Dancing into the Night

The sun had long since set upon yet another fall day, and the nighttime hours were well at hand. For weeks on end there had been generous rainfalls over most of Hungary and Romania, and due to this, the nights had gotten considerably colder. From the hearths of their cottages and businesses, many could see the first tendrils of winter breathing impatiently upon the glass. With miniature fractals of ice forming on the windows and all metals that could be found outside, it was apparent to most that being indoors was far more favorable than being out. Not that Lynara really had much of a say in the matter. . .

It was a brisk wind that grew ever vicious, that met the young woman as she exited from the bright tavern to chop more firewood in the dusky autumn eve. Though most of the guest rooms were still well stocked, the great roaring fireplace that kept all the paying customers warm on the main floor had begun to dwindle. So Lynara had been ordered to fetch some more and to be quick about it. And seeing as she did not wish for a nasty scolding or lashing by the Master of the tavern, she had obediently donned a shawl (that let more cold in then it kept out) and entered into the crisp night air.

The young woman of some 19 odd years took in her surroundings naturally, as she walked towards the wood pile located at the back alleyway of the port-side business. Though it was completely dark out now- save for the glowing light of the full moon over head- she was unafraid. Countless times the girl had been tasked with getting more firewood in the later hours; so she paid the softly howling wind blowing in from the Carpathians no mind, nor the lilted, wordless echoes that seemed to travel from further inland.

Having been a barmaid in Budapest for most of her life, Lynara had heard countless tales of the nightmarish creatures that lived in Transylvania and the deepest recesses of the Carpathian Mountains. But the stories had never bothered her, for the danger wasn't present, and her life had never been threatened by a wolfman or a blood-sucking demon. In fact, there were some days that the maid wished that this wasn't the case; to save her from the stupidity of her own kind. Because for every story she heard of the mythical beasts of the wild Romanian lands, she had several sailors in the tavern make passes at her, or threaten her when she refused them. Most of the men that came into port assumed that one such as her would come with a price, and easily fall into bed with them for a pretty copper piece. The young woman always made the effort to prove these customer's assumptions wrong.

Though Lynara was a barmaid and served in the tavern almost day and night, she had never resorted to selling her body. One might have thought that her title and the extracurricular activities might have been a given benefit, but the young woman had always refused such things. She would have rather starved in the street than be touched by the plague rats that wafted in and out of Budapest, and she had made such information very clear. Luckily, the Master of the Tavern and his wife were willing to let this lapse in conformity slide. The young woman had remained untouched, other than the random bit of groping that couldn't be caught in time, and the drunken hugs that she sometimes received from the regulars.

It was a fact that the girl was a familiar face at the tavern. For years she had been pouring ale, and cleaning up after guests. And though she wasn't by far the prettiest of the barmaids that stayed under the two-story roof, she was definitely the best known. This wasn't to say that Lynara was a favorite by any means, but she had left a positive mark on her home/work and it rightly showed. She was recognized by name for those who had entered the tavern more than once, and was cordial with all who came. And for the most part, the young barmaid could recall the preferred beverages of the proper guests. In the overall scheme of things, this wasn't very impressive or much of a strain, but it had made a world of difference for Lynara.

The young woman now strode over to the chopping block, and quickly lifted the first branch into position. Then she deftly grabbed ahold of the ax that rested beside the pile and took her first swing. It was a clean slice, rushing through the air with a soft rustle against the wind, as the blade of the ax hit the branch directly at its center. Lynara evaded her dark eyes as small wood chips flew skyward, and then determinedly repeated the process. With several more strokes the first log was chopped into manageable pieces, and the maid got another to take its place on the block. And as she began to strike that piece of wood, the girl let her mind wander far into the night. With each swing of the ax, her shoulder and arm muscles tightened and stretched, before they would relax again and wait for the next challenge. Though it was hard and laboring work, the young maid was soothed by it and let her thoughts drift to the dreams she indulged when she was on her own. She looked upon golden futures where she shone like the very stars in the heavens, or moments where she truly mattered. Scenarios where she was able to craft a tale for herself and be freed of her provincial confines. Or fantasies of a world that wasn't covered in filth and forgotten in disrepair. But most of all, Lynara dreamed for a purpose; besidesgettingmen their drinks and scrubbing floors with raw rubbed knees and knuckles. Deep down the young woman knew that she would most likely never escape the life she led, but she also knew that what she had was mediocre and she wished for change.

With slightly glazed over eyes, Lynara observed her handy work- the small pile of chopped logs- and let her mind once more return to the task at hand. With steady hands the young maid hefted the wood into her shawl-draped arms, and turned to go back inside of the tavern . . . but something stopped her.

It was a tingling at the base of her spine; traveling silently up from the soles of her feet, to the tips of her fingers and sensitive scalp that rested beneath her curly head of black hair. The feeling was neither pleasant nor uncomfortable, and yet it gave the maid pause. With unseeing brown eyes she stared off into the evening darkness, feeling a strange panic begin to take hold of her gut; her earlier confidence abandoned.

Someone was watching her.

Lynara didn't know how she knew this with such clarity, but she did. And the young woman immediately began to back away from the shadows, keeping her ears peeled for any sign that the one watching her would try to come nearer. As the maid took a final step, she found her back pressed firmly against the side of the tavern, and quickly shifted her attention to where the glowing side-door was located. With a now shaking hand, she reached for the handle and flung it open as far as it would go. And as the warm light of the inner hearths spread across the alleyway like a purifying wave, Lynara felt her breath catch in her throat. She was afraid of what kind of person she would find in the darkness, lurking . . . waiting for her. . .

But there was nothing . . . not a man or a woman, nor a stray leaf. All was as it should have been, but the feeling still stayed with the wary maid.

With a heart that threatened to beat out of her chest, Lynara shouldered her pile of wood, and with a last glance backwards re-entered the tavern. Though she could have sworn as she kicked the door shut behind her that she could hear someone or something calling out to her . . . laughing.

"Where have you been girl?"

It was the first thing Lynara heard as she quickly placed the logs down and began to feed several into the orange and red tinted flames in the grate. Only moments before the barmaid had rushed back onto the main floor of the bar to fix the fire as had been her original goal. But now she internally cursed as she lifted a wary brown gaze up to regard the man that was towering over her where she currently knelt near the ashes.

The Master of the Tavern was a rotund man with an eternal flushed complexion and a nose redder then a cherry. After years of hitting his own store of liquor this was a given, and was evident to all who beheld the older man. His wife had chided him about it many a time.

Lynara knew she was in trouble by the Masters' tone of voice, but it was positively confirmed when she finally met his beady gaze.

"I had trouble out in the alley." The white lie came out easier than freshly churned butter, and for that the maid was grateful. As a general rule, she was no good at lying. But apparently she still looked shaken from her anxious retreat, for the man seemed to believe her.

"Did some scrapper try to get comfy with ya?" Though it was spoken with little delicacy, Lynara knew that he was genuinely concerned. Though the Master was a rough man, he also protected those who he held in his employ . . . well, from everyone but himself.

"No sir," she said with a blank face. "I was able to frighten him away with the ax. I promise it isn't a problem."

This caused the portly man's eyes to grow exceedingly large. "You did wha?"

"He wasn't a customer. And he was acting strangely. I did what I thought I needed to." The lies were flowing past her lips before she could think better of it, and she instantly wondered at the cause for the sudden yarns. The girl had never been one to fabricate the truth. So why was she doing so now? Though the lie would garner her a far better result than telling him she had lingered due to the fear of someone watching her from the shadows, it was still wrong.

"Well, he won't ever be a customer now that my barmaid has threatened him with a bleeding ax!"

Lynara returned her eyes back to the fire as she set another piece into the mild inferno.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

"Exactly!" His eyes grew even wider than before, bugging out of his head like a fish out of water, as he interrupted her. "You didn't think, girl!"

Lynara was silent as the tirade began, and though she visibly cringed in all the right places for the Master's benefit, she paid no attention to his actual words. It was true that he was usually a fair man when it came to work and pay, but there were also times when he would lose his temper. At such times, he would either yell himself into a stupor of barking plum-faced wrath, or in the rare case, he would deliver a lashing to the person who had angered him. And since most of the help around the tavern were women with nowhere else to go, he went unchallenged in the cruel punishments.

It seemed like such an outcome was well on the way, if the Master's tone was anything to go by. Lynara continued to stare at the flames as she waited for the man to either finish his singular yelling match, or drag her into the back room for a whipping, and felt the fire dancing in the giant fireplace begin to warm her. She would need it for what was to come . . . or at least that was what she thought . . . until the Master's voice died down momentarily. Shocked, the maid once more lifted her eyes to see him. He was still obviously livid, but there seemed to be a semblance of restraint behind his alcohol flushed features.

"I'd give ya a proper beating right now and be done with it," he said gruffly. "If our high class guest didn't wish for your company."

Lynara's expression immediately turned to one of confusion. Why would a guest be asking for her? Especially when Claudria, the other barmaid working that evening, was so willing to flash glimpses of her bodily virtues at anyone who crossed her path. And furthermore, why would the Master agree to such a thing when he had always honored her wish of remaining untouched?

"I don't visit the men." It was spoken as a reminder, though Lynara knew with a sickening feeling that the Master had not forgotten at all. "Claudria and Lexya are here, and they are far more beautiful than me."

"True," the Master agreed. "But our guest asked for you. And even you can't deny a nobleman what he wants."

A nobleman? She thought, startled. Though it quickly turned to anger.

"I am not cattle to be bartered with! He is mistaken."

"Do you think a gentleman of bloody ranking class would make such a stupid mistake, girl? He asked for you, and he will get you!" With this, he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her from the floor, causing her to cry out in both pain and shock. "You will not ruin my tavern by displeasing a Lord! He could buy or destroy my livelihood without blinking a sodding eyelash!"

Lynara felt cold hard panic begin to clamp down on her, and knew that her voice was rising anxiously. "I won't become a whore for you!"

"Then I'll dump you on the bloody quay and let the sailors have their way with you!" He snapped, dragging Lynara along with him towards the staircase that led up to the private rooms. "You either do as our guest asks of you, or you do as the dock rats would please. Now, what will it be?"

Lynara knew that tears of loathing were clouding the corners of her dark eyes, but she couldn't stop them. She had been offered two impossible choices, and there was no third option. She wasn't strong enough to physically fight the Master, nor was she fast enough to outrun the rabid men that the docks produced. If she refused she would be homeless and without a proper income. And if this noble decided to make the Master pay for the slight, all of the other women that lived in the Tavern would be turned out on the streets of Budapest, to wander aimlessly at the desolate cuff of the Adriatic . . . Her own problems she might have managed, but the maid couldn't purposely cause others harm on her behalf. Lynara was trapped and her morals were about to be horrendously compromised.

There had been times when the young woman had hated the Master for his temper and cruelties, but in that moment, as he made her choose, she truly despised him. If she had been able to hurt him right then, she would have. But she couldn't, so the maid hung her head in shame and let the ghastly Tavern keeper drag her towards the best room at the end of the hall. She despaired in her predicament and instantly felt her blood grow cold in her veins, as the portly man knocked on the door, and then upon hearing a simple command to enter, cracked the door and shoved her in. She didn't have time to see the Master's flushed red face as the door quickly slammed behind her, but she knew even then that the detestable man was smiling.

As the door closed firmly behind her, Lynara felt her heart jump into her throat as she was thrown into the room. For a second, she could only submit to the reckless thumping of her heartbeat and the cold sweat that had begun to form on her neck and chest. But then, she stopped herself and fought to regain her composure.

The room was truly the grandest that the tavern had to offer, with flattering deep red drapes and furnishings, and the best of bobbles that befitted a humble parlor or sitting room. The fact that this area was being used at all was surprising. Only the finest visitors were granted free access to this chamber, and most of the customers of the establishment were poor men who merely came in to get some ale. . .

The sitting room was currently only lit by candles; a very soft and dim light compared to that of the main floor- and Lynara was initially limited by it. For several moments her vision refused to aid her, as she fought to locate the guest that would ruin her. But then as the seconds ticked by the young maid grew accustomed to the mellower light of the chamber. In the darkness the red decor almost looked black, and the window curtain billowed slightly in the chilly autumn air. Someone had opened the window, and Lynara shivered with both cold and uncertainty.

"Would you prefer for the window to be closed, my dear?"

Lynara's eyes snapped to the corner where the drinking table and chairs had been placed, and had her breath catch in her throat. Though she had known that she wasn't alone in the room, it was startling to actually hear the voice. Though as she stared at the figure sitting at the table, illuminated by the candles' glow, she felt the nudges of recognition begin to tickle at her mind.

The man who sat at the table was truly handsome, with fair skin and capturing blue eyes that currently shone in a deeper shade. His hair was long and darker than a starless midnight; pulled becomingly into a ponytail held by a beautiful golden clasp, with several stray wisps flying loose to frame his uniquely sculpted face. In his ears he wore small golden circlets; matching the ornament that held his hair with such care. He was dressed in black clothing that fitted his form flatteringly- the dress of a lord without a doubt. But it wasn't his clothing that defined his birth status, but rather his poise and elegant stature. One would have had to have been blind to mistake him for anything but a nobleman . . . nor ever forget the strange aura that wafted around him like a second skin.

The woman instantly remembered him.

This gentleman had visited the tavern several times in the last handful of months. He always left generous tips, ordered the finest wine that could be offered, and nursed it from a private corner of the bar. . . Though the barmaid had noticed the last time, after he had left, that his cup was still completely full- as if he hadn't so much as taken a sip.

He had seemed cordial enough, from what the young woman had seen, but she had never actually spoken to him other than simple greetings and given things such as, 'enjoy' or 'thank you for coming sir'. . . So, Lynara was even more confused than before.

"I am fine, sir," she said, in answer to his inquiry.

He studied her for a moment before he spoke again. "Do you remember me?"

His voice was deep and rich, with a full Romanian accent- making the words seem almost lyrical as they floated in the candlelit chamber. Lynara found it somewhat distracting, but internally pushed off the miniature stupor as she nodded in the affirmative. Yes, she recalled him well, though she had never learned his name or who he actually was.

After a second to center herself, the maid prompted apprehensively. "The Master of this Tavern says that you wanted to speak with me, sir?"

From where he sat, the man chuckled softly; a closed-mouthed smile growing on his lips as he watched her with an unwavering gaze. "Does such a prospect frighten you?"

Yet again he answered her with a question of his own; a strange tactic indeed.

"Only if it entails something questionable." Lynara had said this before she could think better of it, and she immediately regretted her blunt words. But to her relief the strange nobleman seemed to take no offence from the statement. Instead he continued to look at her with intent blue eyes, fingering a glass that sat upon the table top.

"Won't you sit, my dear? You cannot possibly be comfortable standing there indefinitely."

Lynara shook her head nervously. "I'd rather stay where I am if it's all the same to you."

At this the man lifted a single eyebrow, his gaze both amused and challenging. "You needn't fear on my account, little one. I don't bite. . . Often."

"I-Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"No," he answered truthfully, before gesturing with his right hand to the seat across from him at the table. When he showed no signs of saying more or accepting her refusal, Lynara begrudgingly moved towards the proffered chair. She never took her eyes away from him as she slowly eased into the chair, but she noted that he looked pleased when she was finally in her seat.

When she was settled he inclined his head to her ever so slightly.

"Allow me to introduce myself: I am Count Vladislaus Dracula." The power behind the title made the barmaid's hair stand up on the back of her neck.

"Lynara," she returned hesitantly, internally hating the fact that she had had to tell him.

His blue eyes twinkled with an unreadable spark as the shadows danced against the handsome plains of his face. "Lynara: a beautiful name well suited for a beautiful woman."

Despite her best efforts, the young woman blushed- coloring her darker skin in a splattering of pinkish brown. "I wouldn't go that far, sir."

He gave her a pleasant and uncanny smile. "I would."

A/N: Hey guys! ^^ I feel like I need to do a bit of explaining for this. . . So as some of you may know, I have been a huge Van Helsing (film) fan since it came out in 2004, as well as a Dracula buff. I love the father vampire in all his forms and interpretations. And Richard Roxburgh's performance is by far one of my favorites.

I realized that I have never written a story for any version of Dracula, and quickly decided to remedy that.

Originally I had thought that this story would be 4 to 5 parts long, but the plot keeps growing in my mind. So know that I know what I'm doing, but have no idea how much work it will take or how long it'll take to reach a conclusion.

This story will differ from the canon events of Van Helsing, and Lynara very special to me. ^^

Anyway, I'm seriously nervous about posting this one. . . It's personal and I really am afraid of not doing Dracula justice. O_O He's the bae and I wouldn't want to do anything but my best as a tribute. lols

What do you guys think? Did I do alright? Are you enjoying the story/writing thus far? Any ideas for why Dracula wants to speak with Lynara? XD