The Count

They had dressed her in warmer clothes, with strategic cuts in the fabric for access. "You're already in a chilly tower," they warned, "and you will feel very cold afterwards. Come down and get warm by the fire, he will leave you just enough energy to do so. There's a fur robe by the door." And they left, and she shivered - but this was her choice, and that gave her a small piece of comfort.

Much later, sitting by the fire, with a warm mug in her hands and being fussed over by the other women, she remembered a little... He was kind, he said nice things to her, he made sure she'd gotten some enjoyment from it. She was a bit sore, both "down there" and at the bite mark, but it was nothing like it was when she'd been attacked a few months back. That one had beaten her, and enjoyed it; the more she cried out, the worse it got. She remembered it like a far distant thing, or something that happened to someone else, and she was told pieces of the story. She remembered fleeing that night, and didn't remember how she'd gotten here. I took the memory from you, His voice had whispered. You were brave, and you survived, but it was an ugly time. He also gently stroked her breasts, her belly. You are pregnant with his child, it is male. If I have you tonight, you will lose the baby, and may possibly never have children again.

The very thought of having his brat make her physically sick, but He somehow stopped her from actually suiting action to gut-wrenching thought. It had given her just enough room to think - no children? Ever? She could feel Him in the back of her mind, listening, but not forcing her to choose. For a so-called monster, He was treating her better than most of the men she could name!

And that decided her. Before she could ask aloud, "Can I stay here with you?” His hands were moving, and she felt His fangs puncture. To her surprise, no pain, but small waves of pleasure spread from the bite. When they built into something that felt very nice, He took her, and yes it was very cold afterwards, but He seemed to care what she was feeling. And He even held her for a little while afterwards.

She didn't remember Him coming into the room, or leaving. Suddenly He was there, and just as suddenly, gone.

Only much later did she learn that her attacker had vanished that night. He was never seen again. There were a lot of men she'd encountered, some kind, some ugly, some in-between, when she traveled from her home to the castle. A lot of men, for it was a long journey. Very much later, in bits and pieces, she learned that all of them had "encounters" that same night, the severity of them in accordance with the way they'd treated her. Some were rewarded, some had painful accidents, but a few had such terrible, bone-twisting injuries, that they could never hurt anyone again, even puppies and butterflies could run from them. Except that first one, the one that started it all. Not even a corpse, just...nothing. And the town soon forgot he'd ever existed, except as a warning to treat all of His women, in all towns and crofts, like spun gold. But that's another fairy tale, isn't it?

***************

Baron Voorhaven stood up in the stirrups, like it would help him see farther. His neighbor, the self-styled "Count," had claimed the land beyond the river - well, the “Count’s” grandsire did anyway, and that was close enough. Once the priests had shown the original map to him, he'd been obsessing on how to reclaim the land. The fact that the "Count's" grandsire had beaten the Baron's grandsire fair and square didn't factor into his decision. You can only expand your territory once a generation with marriage, so he'd been quietly buying up mercenary troops to bulk up....

And then the pussy mercs had abandoned him when they found out which neighbor he was attacking. They'd even warned him - him! - that this was an awful idea. All his advisors had said this was a grand plan! There was unrest within his troops, and he'd had to take several underling's families into protective custody to remedy it. And even though all the spies he'd sent across the border never returned, he'd gathered enough intelligence to know there was no standing army, and nothing but farmlanders would oppose his crossing the river.

After crossing, it would be about three days' travel to the castle. Maybe five. Easy! What could go wrong?

The first night, every horse in his army vanished. They set camp and sent for replacements, and waited.

And waited.

The second night, the "Bloody Trio" vanished - the three lieutenants that had a bad reputation for being too vicious. The rest of his commanders complained of bad dreams, and being tired in the morning.

The third night, a good half of the commanders vanished. The rest had nightmares, and were exhausted. A few were in the medical tent, pale and thirsty. All the perimeter and camp guards were punished, though they swore they saw and heard nothing.

The fourth night, every single guard vanished, and what was left of the commanders were in the medical tent. Most were raving and hallucinating.

By the fifth night they realized there were no hangars-on at the camp fringes. When did they leave? There was no sign, no footprints leaving, and all their tents and provisions were untouched. The commanders were dying in the medical tent. Anyone who was appointed out of the lower ranks refused to take the new commissions, even when money and land were added to sweeten the deal.

The sixth night the Baron himself vanished.

On the seventh, the reinforcements from the Baron's castle had arrived, only to announce there had been a coup the second night. The Baron's family and priests and advisors had also mysteriously vanished, the war was off, and they were going home.

It was another century or three before anyone thought to make war with the Count again.