Vlad - Opening chapter (partial)
Oct. 24th, 2010 12:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
saitainaAlright, here for you to tear apart, is the partial opening chapter of my novel, Vlad. Some of this you have read before, but this is the first time it's been put together. Now, if you read it, PLEASE comment, say anything, even if you hate it. I really want to get this book finished and published before the characters live another ten years with me (do you know how annoying it is to have perverted brothers in your head?).
Radu looked up at the large wooden doors to the church, swallowing thickly. He had spent centuries avoiding any form of a house of worship, doing his best to continue his faith with meetings outside of churches, but this time, he couldn't avoid stepping inside. It was baby Maria's christening and he hadn't come up with a decent excuse that Lucita would accept.
Taking a deep breath, eager to get out of the sweltering that was bathing Barcelona, Radu opened the heavy door in front of him, lifting his foot to take a step, and then jerking it back, wavering. Did the curse count if you passed the threshold into the Vestibule? Or only if you entered the church proper? Radu didn't know and wasn't eager to burst into flames testing it.
Minutes passed, and with each one, visions of the tantalizing water that could be found inside taunted Radu, teasing him for being so weak. He raised his foot again, allowing it to hover before placing it down, his toes just barely over the threshold. He took another breath, and another step, moving fully into the Vestibule of the church, his breath rushing out of him when he didn't burst into flames.
The sharp sound of his dress shoes against the tiled floor followed him as he entered the Nave, hesitating for a moment at the screen.
"You know, evil doesn't actually burst into flames upon entering a church,"
Radu's head jerked up at the familiar and un-wanted voice, staring at his brother. Vlad was lounging on the alter, his rear end parked squarely between the Chalice and Paten, making shivers run down Radu's spine. His brother was literally sitting between the blood and body of Christ.
"What are you doing here, Vladimir?"
"Same reason you are, I suspect, watching the christening of our last grandchild...to date," With that, he swung down from the alter, a long coat flowing after him. How Vlad could stand to wear a knee length coat in this heat was a mystery Radu didn’t really want to solve...unless it involved ice packs. He could use an ice pack.
"Four hours early? Please tell me the priest is still alive..."
"Unless he had a sudden heart attack, he is," Vlad said with a shrug, circling his brother. "Madrid was good for you, you look healthier."
"No thanks to you," Radu said, still suspicious of Vlad's words. He wouldn't trust that the priest was safe until he saw the man with his own eyes. He moved past his brother, kneeling before the large crucifix, crossing himself before bowing his head in prayer. Centuries past, and he still couldn't get the image of the blood covered cross out of his head. He would wonder if Vlad ever regretted destroying his faith, but he doubted his brother regretted anything.
"I've missed you," Vlad said softly, just barely loud enough to hear before turning, this echoing footsteps telling Radu he was leaving.
Radu's head dipped more, tears sliding down his cheeks. 'I've missed you too, Vladimir," he whispered once his brother was out of range, before raising his head up to stare at the carving of Jesus', who stared silently back.
--
He was a prince, a king, a lover, a demon. He was your every fantasy and your every nightmare. He was a fallen angel, chosen to seduce you into madness and lust. He was the dreams that you could barley remember; yet longed to forget.
He was my prince. My King. My lover. He was my everything. He was my beginning, and my end. He was, above and beyond all, my brother.
Vladimir was born in the year 1431, a cold November night that left him screaming. But Vlad was truly born in 1447, when our father and eldest brother were killed. That was when Vladimir Tepes Dracula, became Vlad the Impaler.
History remembers my brother as an evil man, a cursed man. But I was the one who stood beside him as his world crashed down around him. I am the one who watched the horrors my brother committed. I and I alone, knew the tears my brother cried in the darkness of night.
So now I’m here to tell you his story…our story. I never regret what has happened, or what we have done. I make no apologies. I just wish…I wish that history had given him credit, for who he was.
--
"Prince Vladimir!"
The young prince looked up from where he had been staring into space, turning his attention instead on the young servant who was kneeing before him. "Yes?"
"We found them, your highness!"
Vlad exploded from his chair, gripping the boy's arms and jerking to his feet. "Where?" he demanded and the trembling boy raised his hand, pointing out the door. Vlad dropped the boy and started for the door, his servant chasing after him.
"They're down by the old well, your highness."
Vlad gave an absent nod, adjusting his walk to take him towards the area indicated by the servant. On the way he passed the carriage road, ignoring the on-coming group of solders and dignitaries, already guessing who was in the covered pallet, but not having time to bother with his younger brother, more important issues on his mind.
“Show them to me,” Vlad ordered his servants who rushed to do as their master bid, leading the young King towards the bodies that were lying in the small cavern that had once housed one of the wells the castle pumped water from. Vlad knelt next to the first body, long fingers gently running over the folds in the velvet coat, shielding a wince as the fine fabric crumbled beneath his hands.
His hand trembled as he raised it to gently brush the air over his brother’s fading hair, strands stirred by the movement, slipping free to the dirt floor beneath the skull. Vlad swallowed thickly as he stood, moving now towards the remains of his father, tears brushing his cheeks as he took in the skeleton that was left behind of a man he both loved and hated with equal passion.
“Your highness?” A soft voice called and Vlad turned, eyeing the teenager who stood in the doorway of the well-house.
“What is it, Jarod?” Vlad asked, rubbing a hand against his forehead, not wishing to be disturbed at this moment.
“I’m sorry, your highness, but Alexandru has sent me to fetch you, your brother’s company is…demanding…your attention,”
“So tell them to wait! This is not Erdine and I answer to no man’s demands. Not anymore,”
“The Princess has also sent me, my lord. She asks that you speak with the men and get them out of her hall before she sets it on fire,”
“Dear lord,” Vlad muttered, gazing skyward as if the answers to his problems would rain from the sky. “Of all the overly dramatic, fluffed up women that I had to marry, why did I pick her?”
“I could not presume to tell you, my lord, but I would guess to her kindliness and beauty as two reasons,”
Vlad reached out as if to cuff the teenager on the head for his remarks, a faint smile crossing his lips as Jarod darted out of range. Jarod was one of the few servants he had taken with him from Erdine, deciding that a handful of market slaves would be easier to endure then a full class of hired servants from Wallachia as he got used to his new role as Lord and Ruler, rather then exiled Prince. The two of those slaves that remained in his employ, Jarod and an elderly man by the name of Alexandru, were the only two people left in the world, which Vlad felt he could truly trust, as the world pressed down on his tiny kingdom.
(The sad fact, within these scenes, you've been introduced to all of the main characters by sight or name).
Radu looked up at the large wooden doors to the church, swallowing thickly. He had spent centuries avoiding any form of a house of worship, doing his best to continue his faith with meetings outside of churches, but this time, he couldn't avoid stepping inside. It was baby Maria's christening and he hadn't come up with a decent excuse that Lucita would accept.
Taking a deep breath, eager to get out of the sweltering that was bathing Barcelona, Radu opened the heavy door in front of him, lifting his foot to take a step, and then jerking it back, wavering. Did the curse count if you passed the threshold into the Vestibule? Or only if you entered the church proper? Radu didn't know and wasn't eager to burst into flames testing it.
Minutes passed, and with each one, visions of the tantalizing water that could be found inside taunted Radu, teasing him for being so weak. He raised his foot again, allowing it to hover before placing it down, his toes just barely over the threshold. He took another breath, and another step, moving fully into the Vestibule of the church, his breath rushing out of him when he didn't burst into flames.
The sharp sound of his dress shoes against the tiled floor followed him as he entered the Nave, hesitating for a moment at the screen.
"You know, evil doesn't actually burst into flames upon entering a church,"
Radu's head jerked up at the familiar and un-wanted voice, staring at his brother. Vlad was lounging on the alter, his rear end parked squarely between the Chalice and Paten, making shivers run down Radu's spine. His brother was literally sitting between the blood and body of Christ.
"What are you doing here, Vladimir?"
"Same reason you are, I suspect, watching the christening of our last grandchild...to date," With that, he swung down from the alter, a long coat flowing after him. How Vlad could stand to wear a knee length coat in this heat was a mystery Radu didn’t really want to solve...unless it involved ice packs. He could use an ice pack.
"Four hours early? Please tell me the priest is still alive..."
"Unless he had a sudden heart attack, he is," Vlad said with a shrug, circling his brother. "Madrid was good for you, you look healthier."
"No thanks to you," Radu said, still suspicious of Vlad's words. He wouldn't trust that the priest was safe until he saw the man with his own eyes. He moved past his brother, kneeling before the large crucifix, crossing himself before bowing his head in prayer. Centuries past, and he still couldn't get the image of the blood covered cross out of his head. He would wonder if Vlad ever regretted destroying his faith, but he doubted his brother regretted anything.
"I've missed you," Vlad said softly, just barely loud enough to hear before turning, this echoing footsteps telling Radu he was leaving.
Radu's head dipped more, tears sliding down his cheeks. 'I've missed you too, Vladimir," he whispered once his brother was out of range, before raising his head up to stare at the carving of Jesus', who stared silently back.
--
He was a prince, a king, a lover, a demon. He was your every fantasy and your every nightmare. He was a fallen angel, chosen to seduce you into madness and lust. He was the dreams that you could barley remember; yet longed to forget.
He was my prince. My King. My lover. He was my everything. He was my beginning, and my end. He was, above and beyond all, my brother.
Vladimir was born in the year 1431, a cold November night that left him screaming. But Vlad was truly born in 1447, when our father and eldest brother were killed. That was when Vladimir Tepes Dracula, became Vlad the Impaler.
History remembers my brother as an evil man, a cursed man. But I was the one who stood beside him as his world crashed down around him. I am the one who watched the horrors my brother committed. I and I alone, knew the tears my brother cried in the darkness of night.
So now I’m here to tell you his story…our story. I never regret what has happened, or what we have done. I make no apologies. I just wish…I wish that history had given him credit, for who he was.
--
"Prince Vladimir!"
The young prince looked up from where he had been staring into space, turning his attention instead on the young servant who was kneeing before him. "Yes?"
"We found them, your highness!"
Vlad exploded from his chair, gripping the boy's arms and jerking to his feet. "Where?" he demanded and the trembling boy raised his hand, pointing out the door. Vlad dropped the boy and started for the door, his servant chasing after him.
"They're down by the old well, your highness."
Vlad gave an absent nod, adjusting his walk to take him towards the area indicated by the servant. On the way he passed the carriage road, ignoring the on-coming group of solders and dignitaries, already guessing who was in the covered pallet, but not having time to bother with his younger brother, more important issues on his mind.
“Show them to me,” Vlad ordered his servants who rushed to do as their master bid, leading the young King towards the bodies that were lying in the small cavern that had once housed one of the wells the castle pumped water from. Vlad knelt next to the first body, long fingers gently running over the folds in the velvet coat, shielding a wince as the fine fabric crumbled beneath his hands.
His hand trembled as he raised it to gently brush the air over his brother’s fading hair, strands stirred by the movement, slipping free to the dirt floor beneath the skull. Vlad swallowed thickly as he stood, moving now towards the remains of his father, tears brushing his cheeks as he took in the skeleton that was left behind of a man he both loved and hated with equal passion.
“Your highness?” A soft voice called and Vlad turned, eyeing the teenager who stood in the doorway of the well-house.
“What is it, Jarod?” Vlad asked, rubbing a hand against his forehead, not wishing to be disturbed at this moment.
“I’m sorry, your highness, but Alexandru has sent me to fetch you, your brother’s company is…demanding…your attention,”
“So tell them to wait! This is not Erdine and I answer to no man’s demands. Not anymore,”
“The Princess has also sent me, my lord. She asks that you speak with the men and get them out of her hall before she sets it on fire,”
“Dear lord,” Vlad muttered, gazing skyward as if the answers to his problems would rain from the sky. “Of all the overly dramatic, fluffed up women that I had to marry, why did I pick her?”
“I could not presume to tell you, my lord, but I would guess to her kindliness and beauty as two reasons,”
Vlad reached out as if to cuff the teenager on the head for his remarks, a faint smile crossing his lips as Jarod darted out of range. Jarod was one of the few servants he had taken with him from Erdine, deciding that a handful of market slaves would be easier to endure then a full class of hired servants from Wallachia as he got used to his new role as Lord and Ruler, rather then exiled Prince. The two of those slaves that remained in his employ, Jarod and an elderly man by the name of Alexandru, were the only two people left in the world, which Vlad felt he could truly trust, as the world pressed down on his tiny kingdom.
(The sad fact, within these scenes, you've been introduced to all of the main characters by sight or name).
