Disappointing Dad

Back at Stokely Castle, Vlad sits atop his bed in the tower room, his father standing across from him, a displeased expression gracing his face.

"I'm disappointed in you son. I mean where's this bad attitude coming from, hmm? The cheeriness, the-the optimism, ugh, the love of the outdoors." The Count asks, distain clear in his voice as he speaks of his sons 'normal' interests.

Vlad, hoping to assuage some of his dad's concerns, attempts to respond. "Dad-"

"And the clothes you wear, why... why the bright colours? Make my eyes hurt." The Count interrupts, gesturing to Vlads apparel as he continues with the interrogation of his son and heir.

During the two week drive to Stokely, Vlad did some research into what normal 'breather' kids wear, what they do for fun, how they act. Hoping to use 'blending in' as an excuse for him to act more normally, Vlad purchased some brighter, less black clothes during their trip. While he had considered getting super vibrant and cheerful clothing, Vlad decided to ere on the side of caution, buying darker, more muted clothes than he had seen online, hoping his father wouldn't notice. However, it seems like even the more dull colours are still too bright for the Count to ignore.

*Insert image of Vlads outfit here*

"It's what kids wear." Vlad defends, mildly annoyed his dad brought up his outfit.

"Well, not my kids." The Count declares, before directing his son to stand in front of the full body mirror in his room. "Vladdy, come stand here."

Following his fathers direction, Vlad moves closer to the mirror, eyes focused on his reflection as it comes into view. Prying his gaze from his mirrored form, Vlad turns to observe his father, watching as his dad grabs the black and red cape hung from the mirrors corner, turning to him.

Walking towards his son, cape in hand, the Count glides behind Vlad in a swift, graceful motion, before placing it over his head, bringing the cape down gently upon his shoulders. It hangs loosely on his form, a heavy chain around his neck holding the cloak to him.

Looking his son in the eyes through his reflection in the mirror, the Count resumes his 'pep talk'. "This is what we are, son. We're vampires, what are we?"

"Vampires." Vlad responds dully, tone that of reluctant resignation.

The Count, not sufficiently appeased by his sons reticent affirmation, persists in his lecture. "There's no escaping that. You know, in a few years you'll come into your full powers, and your reflection, like mine, will disappear. Now, I am going to sort out the food situation."

"Can't we have something normal, like, a hamburger?" Vlad asks, hoping he can at least get that. A small win as consolation for all the days losses, first being that the 'best' room has no electricity, second being his failure to sneak out, and third being the criticism of his new clothes, which he quite likes.

At that, the Count turns to Vlad, voice that of agreement as he fakes misconstruing his sons request. "ah, a person from Hamburg-"

"NO!" Vlad interjects, though irritated by his father's 'misunderstanding', significantly more concerned with the prospect of his dad taking a bite out of someone. Though, as his dad levels him with an amused, smug look, it's made apparent to Vlad that his father is messing with him.

"We're vampires, can't escape it. It's your destiny." The Count looks into Vlads eyes as he speaks, his tone carrying with it an air of reverence and expectation when referring to his sons future, his 'destiny'. Coming to the conclusion that his son has gotten the point, the Count flits out of the room, a *CRACK* sounding out through the air from the speed at which he moved.

Having watched his father just disappear, moving so fast he was even less than a blur, Vlad turns back to the mirror. Standing up slightly straighter, he evaluates his appearance, moving several times to view how he looks in the cloak at different angles. Reaching a verdict, Vlad decides that while he doesn't look half bad, he's not a fan of the dark and gloomy look. Taking off his cloak, he moves, hanging it back on the mirrors corner.

"...You know, you didn't look half bad in that. For a dork, at least." Ingrid supplies from the doorway.

Surprised by his sister's presence, Vlad jumps slightly blackwards, almost knocking both the mirror and cape to the ground, as she had caught him mid-turn. "Ah! Ingrid, when did you get here?!"

"Oh, about halfway through your little fashion show. I'm surprised you didn't notice." Ingrid states jokingly, her voice on the edge of being mocking, but not quite there. Though as she speaks again, her voice becomes softer, the locution with which her words are delivered more sincere. "I was being honest, though. You don't look terrible in a cape."

"Ah, flattery! So, .....what do you want?" Vlad asks, as though her wanting something is the only reason she would ever compliment him. Of course he's pretty much dead right, but still, it's a rude assumption.

Ingrid, irritated that she has to spell it out, especially when he's the one that first brought it up, answers him. "Ugh, what do you mean, what do I want? You said 'later', well, it's later."

At this, Vlad blanks momentarily, before his cheeks turn red, a sheepish grin growing on his face as he scratches the back of his head.

He had completely forgotten his plan to talk with ingrid, in lieu of the recent chewing out he had been given by his father. Besides that, he also hadn't been expecting her to approach him about it, at least not before he approached her, and especially not so quickly. 'I shouldn't be surprised, Ingrids never liked waiting for anything.'

"Now, why do you want to make a deal for the room'?!" She asks, incredulous at the idea her brother would give up the best room so easily.

Ingrid ponders his motivations, suspicious of Vlad. 'There's GOT to be a catch...'

Hopeful that his avoidance of her question would go unnoticed, Vlad responds, trying his best to make it seem like he answered what she had asked. "Well, it's not like it would be free. It's a trade, an exchange, whatever you want to call it. The point is, I would be getting something out of it as well."

The young vampiress, unamused by her brothers amateurish attempt at dancing around her question, prompts him once more. "That doesn't answer my question...."

".....Okay, fine. So, Zoltan can't really..... get up and down the stairs by himself." Vlad discloses slowly in abashment, omitting the other problems with the room so as to not decrease its value in his sisters eyes. Luckily enough, he has no problem selling his lie of omission, the embarrassment he feels at not foreseeing such an obvious issue beforehand leaving his face in a deep blush.

".....Pft... Hahaha!" She laughs, voice sweet and melodious in spite of her mirthful exclamations cutting edge. "You're giving up the best room cause your pet dog can't climb the stairs?"

Vlad, now well aware that Ingrid is misidentifying Zoltan just to get on his nerves, defends his companion once more. "He's a hellhound, and no, i'm not giving it up. I'm trading it. T-RA-DING"

*CLAANNG!*

Both surprised by the sudden knell, Ingrid and Vlad look about the room in an attempt to verify the origin of the sound. As they weren't expecting the interruption, they had paid little attention to where the noise came from, caught unawares as they were.

Briefly turning to her brother, Ingrid poses him a question, tone of peevish demand. "Uh, what was that?"

Vlad, unsure as to the cause of the noise, responds to his sister, his words illuminating his ignorance of the recent auditory anomaly. "I don't know...."

*CLAANNG*

Ringing out again, the metallic reverberation makes itself known once more, as though to announce its location. Turning in the direction of the noise, the pair end up looking out the window. Apprehensively, Vlad begins to move towards the sound, steadily approaching the window.

*CLANK CHING*

Vlad pulls back, wary of the item that flew in through, and hooked onto, his window. After a few moments of inactivity, Vlad begins stalking slowly forwards, mildly reassured by the small lull in movement from the object.

"....Well, What is it?" Ingrid asks, making a conscious effort to keep her tone confident and imposing, so as to conceal her worry.

Vlad, while aware of his sisters underlying emotions, steadfastly resolves not to comment on them, mindful of how uncomfortable Ingrid is when vulnerable. Instead, he squints his eyes, taking a moment to examine the object latched onto the edge of the towers windowsill. Turning to look at Ingrid, Vlad relays his observation. ".... It's a grappling hook, y'know, the type used for rock climbing."

After a moment of silence passes between them, his words floating in the air like a balloon waiting to pop, both of their eyes widen in realization. Dashing to the window, Vlad and Ingrid follow the rope attached to the hook downwards, their eyes contacting with a head of black, bowl-shaped hair.

Pulling away from the window, Vlad looks to Ingrid, face knitted into an expression of alarm and confusion. Whisper yelling, so as to not alert the attempting intruder, Vlad questions Ingrid. "What do we do!?"

"What do you mean, 'what do we do!?', we call dad!" Ingrid declares, the solution seeming not just simple, but obvious.

"NO! If we do that, dad's gonna bite their HEAD OFF! And then we're gonna have the whole village screaming, 'BURN THE VAMPIRES!!!', at the front door!!!" Vlad refutes vehemently, unwilling to go through that EVER again!

*Ugh*, Robin grunts, finally finished climbing the tower. Having begun to hear conversation a small bit back, the boy stayed quiet once he reached the top. Hanging dubiously from the ledge, Robin decides to eavesdrop on as much of the conversation as he can before revealing himself, nosey as he is.

The duo, absorbed as they are in their argument, don't notice the small grunt Robin had accidentally let out, nor the pair of arms gripped tightly onto the windowsill.

Ingrid, also uninterested in another peasant mob, refers to Vlad for a better idea, though she doesn't expect one. "Well, what do you suggest fang face?!"

"I don't know, but if we get dad then we ARE going to be chased out again! And where will we go next, hmm? Maybe we'll move to RUSSIA!!" Vlad proposes, unwilling to move somewhere so cold all year round.

Here, Robin begins to lose strength in his arms, and immediately makes his presence known. "Uh hey! Here's a suggestion, help me up!"

Turning to the boy hanging from the windowsill, their movement simultaneous, both Vlad and Ingrid freeze in confusion. ""HUH?!!""

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Chapter 4: 1828 words, (not including this bit)

Hey! Sorry this one took so long to get out, but... Meh! The late post was due a mixture of family issues, being super busy irl, the time it took to do the accompanying drawings, and difficulty writing due to how much this chapter deviates from the original cannon in comparison to the other chapters.

Anyway, if you enjoyed the chapter, comment! Constructive criticism is always welcome. Stones would be appreciated so that others can see the story and I know that I'm doing an ok job.

💎💎💎