Acceptance

"I do not like this."

A voice could be heard in the dim dark room that was the meeting place of the Nightshade society.

The voice somehow echoed throughout its surroundings, filling the already monochrome space with a touch of melancholy.

Seated in a singular chair in the middle of the room was one Wednesday Addams.

A Wednesday Addams who, at that moment, was incredibly peeved.

Wednesday believed that the most skilled individuals were the ones who were capable of adapting to their circumstances and grasping everything that a situation had to offer. She wanted to be the one holding all the cards in her hand. That is why, when she was presented with the possibility that she would be on the receiving end of the machinations of another, no matter how much she trusted that one, she still sought to take control of the situation.

That was her reasoning.

Her reasoning behind her attempted escape away from his clutches.

An attempted escape that ended so abruptly that by the time she was finished blinking she was already tied and bound to a chair in the club room of her mother's former society. And if that weren't worse enough, she literally found herself staring directly at the picture of her mother's proud face, in all her beauty.

'Kill me', was the only thought that she could muster as she sat there and released a heavy sigh.

In hindsight, she knew it was a foolish endeavor.

Pulling one over on Vlad seemed to be nearly impossible.

The man just seemed to be capable of doing absolutely anything and everything that he wanted.

She had heard of the ancients. The ones who came before those who have the "honor" of being called outcasts in today's society.

Her family was an old one. They had records going back several hundreds of years. However, they were not old enough. Not old enough to have detailed knowledge about what came before. Only bits and pieces that added up to enough to speculate and possibly get a lead on acquiring said information. Her Uncle Fester spent a large amount of his time doing just that. Exploring the world, getting up to one devious scheme after another, learning all he could and seeing all he can about a time when gods were believed to roam the world. Gods who shared many similarities to outcasts, only far more powerful.

She had never had proof that they existed. Nor was she going to believe such. Not at least until she was able to acquire her own evidence on the matter.

When she first came across Vlad, in his crypt, she knew something was different about him.

Her research, no matter where she looked, gave her any information nor knowledge on any beings that could communicate across such distances, access the minds of others in the way he could, and seemingly bring his resting place in and out of existence the way he seemed to do.

She had seen it.

The way the crypt faded in and out of her sight, in the beginning.

And then, how no one ever seemed to see it when she visited later.

Only her.

When she asked Vlad about it, he told her that only she was allowed to see, because only she could feel.

They were connected.

It made her feel...special.

She had never believed herself to be special.

She knew she was driven, focused, and goal-oriented. But those did not make her feel special. Only capable.

What made her feel special, was the fact that she had a friend. A friend that only she could know. Not her parents, nor Pugsley, or anyone else. Only her. She wanted it to stay that way. It was only after coming to Nevermore and missing the fact that his presence seemed to be silenced in her mind in a way it only was when he went into his "deep sleeps". If she had noticed, she would have believed it was because she had monsters to slay.

However, she had not noticed.

That was unlike her.

She always noticed his absence when he slept, and always noticed when he woke.

A sense of warmth, always accompanied his presence.

A warmth that, instead of taking away from the coldness of her heart, only seemed to envelop it. Like a hug. Without the unnecessary touching.

However, she had not noticed.

It was only when she understood who Dracul was, that she realized why she truly did not notice.

It was because, instead of him being asleep or his presence being absent, it was still there. Only in a different way. A way that brought on a different feeling. A new feeling.

The first time she saw Dracul, it was like a sword swept straight through her neck, leaving nothing above the shoulders but empty space. Her mind went blank. His presence enveloped dominated wherever he stood.

She had dreaded her arrival at Nevermore, and looked forward to her escape. He had complicated everything with his words alone. "from this moment forth, I will be your stalker," was what he said, and by all the ghouls that haunt the world if she did not find the idea completely welcome. However, even then, she did not notice.

Her stalker brought a warmth that enveloped every inch of her being that she did not notice.

His voice brought a feeling in her dreary heart, that she did not notice.

The people around her felt a fear and attraction in equal measure that she did notice and yet they never seemed to be able to fully approach him or even acknowledge his presence unless he willed, which she also noticed, however she seemed to be the only one who could perceive him when he was there, which she did not notice.

Everything about him said that he was different.

That he was something that she had never seen nor known, just like her only friend, but despite that, her mind...no her heart would not make the connection. The obvious connection.

She did not know why.

She felt good whenever Dracul was around. Whole. Complete.

It was off putting, in the beginning.

He was a stranger and yet he was stabbing his way into parts of her that he should not have been able to touch.

Then, with every time that they met, his knife dug deeper. Further penetrating places that had never been touched. Giving her something that she did not know she needed and had always denied wanting.

With time, denial went, and all that remained was acceptance. An acceptance that came in the form of an individual that could be touched by no one. No one, but her.

As Wednesday sat in her seat, cycling through all the stages of grief, she could not help but focus on the picture of her mother.

So many times, her mother had offered her advice. Knowledge.

And so many times, she had denied the offer.

If she felt regret, it may have made an appearance, but regret was unnecessary. She did not need regret. She needed knowledge. And knowledge meant action.

Wednesday felt the ties that bound her. Flexed her wrists, readjusted her thumbs, and pulled her hands free.

Then, she got up from the chair, made her way upstairs, and to her room.

Once there, she sat at her desk, moved the crystal ball in front of her and sent out the call.

"Hello, mother."

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(A/N: Additional chaps on patreon.com/TheGreatestHunter check it out.)