marlowemuses | Diplomacy and Romance

It was a trait of the young to muster a blush on their skin. It was a reminder that significant age and experience spanned between them, but her words, concepts and thoughts were beyond her current years. It was a rather enlightening mixture, and it kept him on his toes as well, which was an admitted rarity these days. It was easy to think he had seen most that there was to see.

"It is a rare thing for something to slip passed my guard these days, but..." he turned his red eyes on her delicate hands as she reset the chess board. He swirled his wine as if he might even drink it all tonight. "There are some that have accomplished such a feat. You just might be one of them," he admitted softly. "But an enemy, that is unlikely so you will be protected while under my roof."

He gestured with a hand at the board as it was set up, not particularly interested in a game tonight but willing to entertain it if it meant stealing an hour or so more of her time. "Do you fancy a game, or shall we enjoy our wine in peace?"

Lenore blinked in surprise at the statement that she'd slipped past his guard. Her fingers paused, a pawn hovering above the chessboard as her whole mind ground to a halt for a moment and then restarted in a new gear.

She'd slipped past his guard--or 'might' have, he'd buffered the statement with a caveat. What did that imply? He trusted her? Or something more nuanced?

She desperately wanted to learn more, to find out what that meant and make space for herself inside his guard. He felt as unreachable as the stars, lofty and cool, and most of the time she couldn't read any emotion off of him other than 'polite interest'. Who was he, beyond the walls that he put up to keep other people at a distance?

So much of her skills and experience had made her a master at worming her way within emotional defenses, especially with men, and thereby gaining influence and power. She was such an expert that in this case, apparently, she'd done so without meaning to. But she didn't want to manipulate him in that way. And she absolutely didn't want him to suspect that she was manipulating him in that way.

She wanted to step inside his defenses. His comment was the tiniest bit almost like an offer for her to do so. An invitation, even if he hadn't meant to offer it. But she wasn't sure how to seize that opportunity without being ... the Lenore who had been the mistress of vampire kings, who had spent every day making subtle nudgings and coercions in order to keep herself valuable enough to be kept alive, charming enough to be treated with kindness.

There was no safer place than by his side, within his protection, and she valued his company. But she wasn't sure how to keep that place without him eventually suspecting her of being the manipulative courtesan that she had almost always been. A woman who gained and kept power through her sexuality. If two hundred years of habit kicked in and she slipped into that persona, she imagined he'd be ... displeased, to say the least. That made it dangerous to try and move herself closer to his side, to step within his defenses. And even if she tried to be forthright about the possibility--hey, so I might occasionally fall back on seductress habits--that wouldn't preclude him seeing her as manipulative and false if it happened. How would she manage to survive that?

She lowered the pawn into its rightful place on the board, and then returned her hands to her lap, blinking a few times as she came back from the long tangent of her thoughts and down to the crux of the matter. She wanted. She feared.

"What--" She began, eyes lifting back to him, wary and almost shy as she tried to shape her question. "Who are you, past your guard? I know that you're a scientist, a philosopher, driven by knowledge in nearly every capacity, but I haven't been able to read any emotions from you other than the occasional hint of amusement or irritation. What will I find, if I slip past your guard?"

Ah, it had been some time since he had caught her off guard, and he allowed himself a momentary victory to the surprise on her face. Had she not realized that his normal reclusiveness was much worse when she wasn't around? He had sought out moments of conversation knowing that she would bring a perspective that he may not have considered in some time or at all.

The questions paraded across her expression even as she finished setting up the board, but then he noted that she seemed to refrain from too much more. He was curious about what she was thinking about and if it was more than the implication of temptation. He knew her well enough to know what she craved after all.

He wondered if she had considered his own abilities to manipulate a situation for his own gain. The sister queens could be problematic, and securing one of them - their 'weak' link - allowed an easy win into their coalition. He had no interest in such things, but Lenore was smart and capable. She might have a dangerous past but so did he, long ago that it may be.

He raised an eyebrow at her careful question, not surprised by it but intrigued that she decided to set upon that path. He half expected her to take time to consider, to ponder the possibilities. He bought himself a few seconds of ponderance by setting down his wine glass next to the chess board and turned in his seat so that he was half facing her.

"Does the endless possibilities of what could be behind polite interest excite you?" He could show her many things beyond what he already had, but the crux of it was how much of themselves were they potentially willing to give into vulnerability? "As for who I am, that is a layered question. Perhaps you'll find a monster. Perhaps you'll find a gentleman. Perhaps nothing more than a man. Or all those and more. Just, as I expect, is the same as you."

That, she felt certain, was flirtation. It calmed her, setting her back into territory that she could deal with more easily--she'd grown comfortable with their philosophical conversations, discussing facets of possibilities, and this shift toward flirtation felt like more of the same, but without the same cordial distance they'd had before.

She felt reassured, too, that he accepted and invited the complexity of her. All people were complicated, often self-contradictory, and yet it was easy to diminish people into just one or two of their traits. To men, she'd been the madonna or the whore, usually both. To her sisters, she was the foolish little girl, the manipulative actress, or the competent-enough secondary administrator of castle affairs when Morana was away. She didn't often get to be a philosopher or a playful prankster. She felt all the more unseen whenever she was melancholy. It didn't fit into how people saw her, no matter how often she was melancholy.

Rising to her feet, she stepped around the chessboard and crossed to him, sitting down lightly across his lap. "All of those and more," she echoed, as confirmation. "You certainly are a gentleman, at least to me. And I do not doubt that you are and have been a monster." Most people, she was certain, had the capacity to be monsters--or to be kind. She thought that at least Dracula would be a more tasteful monster than the ones she'd known before.

Draping a gentle arm over his shoulder, she met his eyes. She still felt afraid, but she still wanted.

It had been a very long time indeed since he can considered a courtship of any kind. It was easy to fill the void of loneliness and absent love with all of his studies, his interests and the reminders of his dead wife that had put him on this path in the first place. Vampires were capable of love no matter what any of them would claim otherwise; it was easier to lean into the monstrous nature but vampirism only enhanced ones base urges.

With their long-lived bodies, courtships could take a very long time, but often they were far too eager to indulge in the thrills of an old life. Most jumped in with both feet to feed their egos and their primal urges. Once the ball was set in motion, vampires tended to lean right in. He was not above that either, though he had learned over the years to be cautious with his reasoning to why he did so.

He moved his arms out of the way as she came over to his chair, guessing correctly on what she might do. As she slid into his lap, he curled an arm loosely around her middle to stabilize her perch and then reached out with his other arm to curl around her knees in order to draw her legs up and also keep her dress hem politely over her ankles so she could rest her feet on the arm of his chair if she wished.

"And I will be a monster again, just as I will be a gentleman," he said simply. They were all many things, and to deny that was to disillusion oneself. There was a rare thrill to be close to someone like this and not be about to make an example of them; he and Lenore had had moments of being physically close as they leaned over an experiment and he explained the finer details of it. This was completely different. "I have no interest stopping you from being who you are, Lenore. The parts you hide or don't feel you can show others are what I find fascinating about you most."

Her enthusiasm for dissecting situations. Her word vomit on histories and other cultures was endearing. She was cautious of him - smart - but it didn't stop her from engaging.

"The question is: what are you hoping to find beyond my guard?"

As he drew her close, Lenore nestled comfortably into the embrace, resting her other hand on his chest and enjoying being held like this. It felt like a surprise that this was really happening. He desired her romantically, and probably physically as well. Having things that way around was new for her. Usually her sexuality was far more appealing to men than her romantic nature.

She considered the question, head tipping slightly to one side and eyes gazing unfocused into space as she thought through it. Did she have any particular hopes? Nothing that she was heretofore invested in. She hadn't speculated on the topic, because it seemed unlikely to be relevant. So she took a few moments to speculate now.

Perhaps he was uninterested in sex, and desired only the romance and companionship she could offer. Their current relationship would change very little, continuing with deeper trust and closer physical proximity, but mostly still just an exchange of words.

Perhaps he was voraciously sexual, with centuries of pent-up desire, favoring an array of kinks that humans could barely imagine. But she thought that she could trust him, even then, and that she would be a collaborator in such things rather than an object.

Her mind caught there, and she was surprised to find that it took effort to consider the question beyond the topic of sexual desire.

Perhaps he would be maudlin, lost in the sorrows of the past and the things he loved that were now centuries gone. Perhaps he would be playful, with a love of pranks and wicked jests.

She already knew him to be observant, thoughtful, respectful of her space, her body, her identity. Those things would not change. Would he be attentive and doting, showering her with little gifts, or distracted and distant, keeping their romance carefully compartmentalized away from other matters?

That. Her heart snagged there. The other possibilities she could give or take, accepting whatever she found. But she didn't think she could bear being kept at arm's length by a lover who had so many more important things to distract his mind. Still, to ask for such a thing seemed absurdly bold. All the words that came to mind made her feel grasping--I want to be the most important thing in your life. I want you to ache for me if we're apart.

Start smaller. The way she'd first thought of it: attentive and doting.

"Affection," she said at last, returning his gaze to his. "Warmth--as in a tendency toward romantic gestures, even just small ones. I think ... I would be disappointed if I found that the man beyond your guard was cool, aloof, or forgetful. Anything else that comes to my mind, I think I will be content with whatever I learn of your nature. But I suppose I do hope that you are ... sweet."

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes dropped away as she finished this little speech. If his nature was contrary to her hope, she would feel foolish--and maybe a little selfish.

Who would dare snuggling into his broad chest and make themselves so comfortable? He expected anyone that might be on that list were long dead, and his brief flings were a good century or more old. They were incapable of producing their own body heat unless they made an active sacrifice to do so, but the weight of her body against his own was oddly welcome.

As he thought, she didn't push either, didn't take a risk to see what it was that he could offer now that he had let her in his physical space like this. She was as polite as he expected her to be, and he appreciated that; his tolerance for blatant hunger and frantic expressions of lust were admittedly low. This slow coming together was something he enjoyed. It showed him a respect that he always hoped to show her in return. She was not flesh to satisfy but an intellect to engage with on multiple levels.

He did not urge her with any gesture or noise for an answer. That she took her time to consider earned more of his respect. Lenore was a romantic at heart; he knew that. She had explicitly told him that her sisters didn't take her seriously on such topics, but he found the innocent want to be cared for to be valid. Was she taking her time to formulate an answer that expressed some of those vulnerabilities again?

And her eventual answer didn't displease him. That she felt she could be honest meant that they had built a trust. He had considered that she could be manipulating him, but he expected that she had already considered that. "There will be times when I am consumed by my interests, but it would be entirely unintentional. It has been well over a century since I considered entertaining a courtship," he remarked truthfully. That's what this was, wasn't it? A courtship.

He made a noise in his throat at her last word, amused and not unkindly. He moved his hand from cupping her ankles lightly to taking one of her hand so he could bring the back of it to his lips for a gentlemanly kiss. "There is no one living who would call me sweet. Perhaps you shall have that opportunity."

He looked at her over the curve of her own wrist. "Will you accept a courtship, Lenore?" He was asking to respect her right to choose as a women if this was what she wanted, but also to remind them both of the risk it would be. Politically and emotionally.

Her cheeks stayed flushed as he kissed her hand, pleasure coursing through her. It was so flattering to be considered in this way, to be valued for her wit and personality above her other traits, and to be the center of attention for someone so powerful.

She was obligated to consider the implications, and her debts and vows to her sworn sisters. She would still be available to them as needed, especially with Dracula's ability to transport her, and this alliance would only further increase their influence and their safety. Carmilla would tease her about seducing Dracula, and assume that she'd done it for the power and luxury. Morana would think that Lenore's head had been turned by the romance of it, a fairy-tale princess wanting a handsome and charismatic king. Striga would assume that Lenore wanted the safety. Each version made her feel ... small. But no matter her decision, they would only see a small version of her, a little sister, easily dismissed.

Nodding, her fingers curled inwards, gripping his hand in a little display of both nerves and yearning rather than simply allowing her hand to be held. "Yes," she whispered, feeling reckless and impulsive despite also having absolute confidence in her decision.

Vlad also was obligated to consider the implications of possible favourtism among those who were in his court. It would be the first or the last vampire union, but there could be ramifications for other vampire lords and ladies to feel threatened or intrigued or disgusted. He cared little for the gossip of it, aware it would keep tongues wagging long into the nights and even some days.

He found his need to consider the sister queens. They were not a coalition to trifle with for most, and he had no doubt that Carmilla would attempt to take advantage of the increase of status that his favour brought. Morana and Striga would be far more tactical, likely expecting that this matter would be short-lived; they would likely keep to themselves given the rumours of their own romantic attachments to each other.

His clawed fingers closed around her fingers in a return gesture. He continued to watch from as he added a second kiss to the back of her hand. "Then it seems we are in agreement on such a matter. Do you wish secrecy or would it suit you to allow others to know either as they come by the information or witness us together?" Her answer would change how he treated her during court gatherings of course, and it also meant he may or may not need to silence maidservants.

She considers briefly, always taking his questions seriously and often finding them unexpected, things that no one has ever asked her about. But in this case she's certain of her answer quickly. "I'd prefer to be able to live honestly," she states. Though she assumes that he prefers the same, she does feel nervous at the thought of him wanting to be more secretive about this new complication, which some will interpret as a weakness. Many of the others may not know about her past before Carmilla, since none of the vampire lords whose courts she was in previously are still alive. But those who do know might suspect that she's looking to take a similar position now, as mistress to a vampire lord, with all the more power.

She doesn't doubt that this will draw negative attention to her and make her a target, but she feels confident that she can deal with that. Dracula will prevent any physical harm to her, and she can absolutely deal with courtly politics.

He nodded his head, accepting the answer without protest. He had no reason for such secrets himself, but she was the negotiator in many political situations and it was unclear how her association with him might alter outcomes. "Very well, we have no reason to hide such a courtship, and so we will not. It will give others something to gossip about for some time anyway. It's been some time since I stirred gossip circles that I'm aware of." And he frankly did not care for the opinions of most; it was just important to respect him or fear him.

Thankfully, there were very few that would openly move again him or anyone under his protection. He offered a small squeeze of her hand and lightly stroked her back with his other hand. "I shall arrange for a special meal to treat you with, shall I?"

"I'd like that," Lenore confirms, though she does wonder whether he means a meal of food or of blood. She doesn't question it, trusting that whatever he provides will be pleasing for her.

Leaning in, she presses a soft kiss to his cheek, sweet and chaste. As much as she desires him, she doesn't want to rush into anything. The prospect of being courted sounds lovely, and she wonders what it will entail. "Shall I start calling you Vlad now, instead of 'my lord'?" There's a slightly teasing note to the question, and she thinks that she perfectly well might still call him 'my lord' from time to time just to be playful.

He nodded his head, and he already had a meal in mind that they could share that both would surely enjoy. It would have to remain a surprise for now, of course. Strategizing - even for meals - could bring him pleasure when he decided it was worth the consideration, and given the tilt of their relationship, he considered it a worthwhile endeavor. Courtship was meant to be a romantic affair after all; they had no reason to use it for strengthening alliances like humans of course.

He wasn't surprised by the kiss to his cheek, but he had to admit that he was unexpectedly pleasant. He could be charming and charismatic after all, and he also recognized that Lenore could rival him potentially in that. Her affection filled a tiny bit of the old repressed loneliness. The corner of his lips pulled in a smile at her question. "You may call me as you like. Vlad, Dracula, my lord... as it suits you," he replied truthfully. "In this courtship and whatever else may come, we are equals."

Her chin ducked again, shy with pleasure at being asked to be his equal in this courtship. It felt like so much being offered to her. More than she felt she was worth, even though she had spent so much of her life ensuring that she was valued more highly than any other jewel that a vampire warlord or king might own. She'd still, in those courts, always been a thing to be owned. Now, she had a place at the side of the most powerful of any of the vampire lords she'd known, and he wanted her to be his equal.

But her chin didn't stay down for long. She wanted to focus on the pleasure of his company, rather than her own nerves.

"I like the sound of that," she murmured softly. Tucking close, she pillowed her head on his shoulder. Even though there was no warmth to him, the comfort of being held like this soothed a deep instinctual need inside of her. "Will you tell me about some of the science you've been working on while I've been away?" She wanted no more talk of politics and diplomacy for the night. She wanted to simply be in his presence, whether to read or to talk of anything at all. His experiments were a reliable topic to get him to talk, filling the time so that she wouldn't feel that she had lingered too long in his lap.

He relaxed into his large chair when she settled in against him, and he was pleased when she rested her head to his shoulder. One hand moved from her leg to cup her dainty feet, stroking the top with a thumb as he enjoyed her company. His arm tightened around her shoulders to hold her close against him where they were cuddling. He could sit with her in silence or in conversation for many hours.

He made a soft noise at her request, tipping his head back against the chair as he considered the numerous theories he had in the works that he was trying to validate with evidence. He had shown her a few experiments, and she had been politely interested in what he worked on and how he set up his projects.

"I'm currently continuing my work with fungi and their medical implications. Drying out their fruiting bodies and boiling or breathing the fumes is the most current curative methods, but I suspect that there are other methods that can extract their properties." He dropped his head so that his chin rested on the top of her head. "Distill? Mix with certain herbs? I haven't found the correct combination for afflictions."

He then took a moment to launch in the details of each of his current experiments, laying each out and walking through how he had come up with the theory and which elements were successes or which were not the providing evidence to his theory. All the while, he stroked the top of her feet with his thumb.

She loved hearing him talk, on this or any other topic. It was true, however, that his experiments held her attention less than the other subjects they discussed. Comfortable as she was in his lap, with his arms safe around her and his hand gently caressing at her foot, she let her eyes close as she focused on the pleasure of his grasp and his voice.

Inevitable, then, that after a few minutes her mind drifted away, sinking into a slumber. Her hand slipped from where she'd left it resting against his chest, falling into her lap like a cherry blossom drifting down from a tree.

He continued to explain to the most minute detail the current experience, including the pH of the water, the microelements as he was aware of them and the application of heat or humidity over all. He was aware of her relaxing against him further, and he knew the moment that she fell asleep against his shoulder. That she was tucked against his body and all the danger that he could be and fell asleep was telling.

For a few minutes, he simply kept talking, but his red eyes dropped to study her sleeping face. His fingers continued to stroke her foot through the fabric of her dress, and he let his head lean back against his chair for a moment of consideration. How long had it been since someone slept on or near him? Longer than he cared to admit.

Slowly, his voice trailed off to silence, only the crackling of the fire providing background noise. After watching her sleep for some minutes, he made the decision and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering against that soft pale skin for half a minute before he gathered her up carefully in his arms and rose from his chair to take her to her bed chambers.

Lenore gave a soft sound as she was picked up, shifting a little in his arms. She was dimly aware of what was happening, but felt safe and trusting enough that her mind found no reason to try and wake up properly. She felt so cozy and safe, content in the knowledge that he would care for her. He was sweet, in his own way, and she was increasingly getting to see that, which was a lovely treat.

Nestling her cheek against his shoulder, Lenore made another sleepy noise and curled her fingers around the front of his shirt.

While standing, he waited for her to settle into his arms or potentially wake. When she remained peacefully asleep and even nestled her face to his shoulder, he tightened his grip on her as he turned to ease from the room. He abandoned games, wine and the hearth to travel through the castle depths to the guest quarters where he had intended Lenore and her waiting staff to have plenty of room and privacy for their own business.

Of course, making the journey with her in his arms, it did seem a rather long distance to travel. He didn't consider it terribly though as it allowed him to continue to hold her, monopolizing time he might otherwise lose on a hand off with the maid servants. In fact, he made a concerted effort in the corridors to avoid them.

He arrived to her bed chambers. It would be considered rude to admit himself to a lady's chambers without invitation first. Yet, he shouldered in knowing he could be breaking her confidence and trust, all so he could be the one to set her gently upon her bedding. He did so slowly in an attempt to not disturb her sleep, even going so far as to use his index finger to move some of her red hair back to be behind her pointed ear.

"Sleep well, my dear," he whispered softly.

Diplomacy and Romance

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