A Theory

"Fun times, fun times." Dracul hummed as he made his way through the shadows, fresh off his latest stalking session with Wednesday.

He could tell that whatever desire she had to escape her "captivity" was fading by the minute. Especially after "someone" attempted to squash her with a gargoyle.

His first instinct was to remove the tendons from the little fleas legs and hang him from the rafters as a message to all who would dare to harm his little death, however that was discarded upon remembering who his little death is.

Luckily, his mind moves fast and he was able to divert his hand from digging into the amoeba's chest and digging out his heart like the young Niklaus was so ought to do, before feeding it down his throat. However, that does not mean that the ant is not marked. His death is guaranteed, no matter what. If not by her hand, than by his own.

Anyway, that brings him to his "fun times".

He just recognized the whiny little crybaby from when he first met Wednesday, attempting to flirt with her. Only a fool would remind such a woman of his incredibly inglorious moment of pure Pugsleyism. He honestly forgot all about the coffin kid, now known as Xavier Thorpe. He is no competition. Not that any could be. He is Prince Vlad, even if he goes by Dracul Dresden. Prince Vlad is Prince Vlad, with a capital P.

Now, here he stood, in Wednesday's room, coming up with a handshake with his new buddy Thing, who decided a good hiding spot would be under the covers on the bed. He would not advise Thing on his actions. Live and learn. At the sound of the door being unlocked, Dracul gave Thing a salute, threw the blanket back over it, and fell backwards into the shadows. Then, proceed to just lay there.

Honestly, stalking is not all its cracked up to be. He had come to realize that he needed something to occupy his time other than engaging in his favorite hobby.

The question is, what?

There was a lot that he did not know about the modern world around him.

The outcasts and their weak bloodlines still lingered on the back of his mind.

The vampires walking around the Academy were nothing more than decorative mantlepieces compared to even the weakest of the undead that once fell under his heel.

The werewolves, poodles compared to their ancestors, even though they still engage in their incessant howling. They believe it conveys intent, however he felt they were just being extra. Extra, annoying.

The gorgons require hats in order to control their petrification magic.

The siren require necklaces to control their vocal magic.

Actually, based on what he had seen, none of the lesser versions of their predecessors that roamed the Academy truly understood themselves. They did not understand their bloodlines, and they did not understand their abilities.

Vlad could feel the links that bound them throughout the academy, as well as the links that extended far away. Some signified bloodlines, some signified intent, and some signified servitude. The links were messy, convoluted, and disorganized.

Eventually, he knew he would have to look into the matter. Rulers got to rule and that's Rulers with a capital R. After all he is a Prince, with a capital P. Or maybe, since it is only him left, wouldn't that make him a King....no. Prince sounds better. Sexier. Kings are boring, Princes wear earrings.

He needs to get an earring.

"Hey, Wednesday," Dracul floated himself out of the shadows with his hands under his head and one leg bent at the knee with his foot on the ground and the other with his ankle perched on the bent knee, as he relaxed on his back. He truly believed the wooden floor might have been softer than some of the beds that he slept on in the past, when he was battling all over world. "I wonder what hobbies I should take up when I am not engaging in my stalking. Any ideas?"

Dracul noticed Wednesday tense in reflex once again before she relaxed herself upon recognizing the voice. He smiled at the knowledge that, despite him seemingly appearing out of nowhere, she was still capable of appearing to relax in his presence. As if he could not still see her body tensed.

"I have heard that the easiest way to get rid of boredom, is to redirect ones mind. Focus your mind on something else. Tell me about yourself. Have you noticed the architecture around the academy" Wednesday gave her suggestion that did nothing to help with the situation he proposed to her.

'She thinks I had something to do with the gargoyle?' The thought quickly flitted through his mind.

"Are you by chance attempting to learn about me?" Dracul spoke in a glib tone, radiating mockery at her obvious intentions. He taught her better than that. "I'm not a big fan of talking about myself. Privacy is very important to me, little death." He stated seriously.

If she did not know who was speaking, she might think they truly believed what they were saying, but he knew she knew. He was full of shit.

"Why not learn something new?" Wednesday questioned through gritted teeth as she clenched her fists, seemingly getting annoyed with the casual way that he was just laying on the floor in her room and speaking to her, as if he actually belonged there. She was certain the plant lady said that boys were not allowed, ever.

"Hmmm. That might be a good idea. Perhaps a new language. Which ones do you speak?" Dracul asked, while arching his back and swinging his legs up into a handstand, then smoothly bringing his feet to the ground, all without more than a small shuffle able to be heard.

Then, he was directly behind Wednesday, leaning over her chair, careful not to touch her, taking in her type writer and the story that had yet to unfold.

"I speak a few. Why?" Her blank face threating to slip as she felt his presence directly behind her.

He could see her body tense even more, ready to move at a moments notice.

He wondered what all she was feeling and oh so wanted to check, but he did not. It's more fun this way.

"Well, you can teach me what you know. And, if you teach me, I do not mind teaching you." He spoke nearly resting his chin on top of her head, however stopping just before touching.

He knew she could feel him there. Every time he moved closer, she grew tenser. However, she refused to move. If he did not know her, he would think it was out of fear, but he knew. It was a challenge to her. She felt like if she moved before necessary, she lost. That was the only explanation that he could reach. Wednesday, did not show weakness. Running would be weakness.

"If there were something I needed to learn, I would learn it. I do not need you to teach me." She stated with finality. As if she were stating facts.

He moved his head from above her to the side drawing nearer to her ear as he began to speak.

"Is that so? Even..if I were...to..teach...you...about your visions?" By the end of his question, Dracul's breath was warming her ear with every word.

His body was growing hotter.

He was doing it again.

He could feel himself beginning to transform.

It was then that he realized that he had a slight problem.

Wednesday Addams, for all intents and purposes, gave him the immense desire to try and turn her on. Which, only resulted in him getting turned on in exchange.

It was a brutal cycle, completely the fault of the two braids girl, and he refused to allow himself to be controlled. That is why, he blew once into her ear, and then disappeared into the shadows and headed back to his room to take a cold shower.

Take that, Wednesday Addams.

That little lady death might very well be a succubus. He would need to do his research on the Addams family.

Wednesday: {He knows of my visions.}

"Give me peace, Succubus!!!"

"Wait. Now, I see. The temptress had me fooled from the get go. Thinking I could not control some fickle hormones."

"Give me blood, Succubus!!!"