It was a miserable night for a celebration. The heavy clouds that threatened Paris during the day had held out until night before releasing their payloads and dousing the city in cold September rain. There was a brief question of whether the event should be postponed, but she refused. They had just spent the last month and a half pushing her to make it official. She just wanted it to be over with.

Besides, the rain would deter any passersby and keep the less desperate of the news rats from crowding the perimeter of the ceremonial property.

At least, that's what she hoped.

But when had anything in the last year gone right? This time last year, she was starting her junior in high school. She had an amazing, supportive family, a guy she liked—even if her dad didn't approve of him—and her grandfather had a new girlfriend. Her already great life was only getting better!

And then the dragons were attacked. The news that there were more than anyone thought, hadn't impacted her quite as badly as others, because dragons usually kept to their own. Not that time. That time, they dragged her father into a fight he never should have been involved with and left him permanently disabled.

Then, her entire world imploded. As per some ancient, ableist law, her father was passed over for her, and she was named heir to the family. She had to move to the other side of the world to learn what it meant to be a countess. That had been hard. Her friends had quickly dropped out of contact, feeling like she had lied to them by not telling them who she was. But she didn't lie! She didn't even know the title was real! Neither her father nor grandfather had talked about that side of her family. How was she supposed to know it was anything more than a mad man's fiction?

But the shit didn't stop there, because just as she was finally getting used to her new routine, a pissed off werewolf made a single phone call and ripped her life into shreds. Her family, everyone that could be traced through her grandfather's bloodline, were killed in a calculated, simultaneous attack. Countless cousins she had never met, had never even been aware of, all who had the same bright blue eyes that she did, were gone.

Her uncle had been brutally beaten at his work was still healing nearly four months later. Her father had been shot and nearly killed by silver toxicity with her little brother screaming in his arms. The only reason he survived was because his business partner had stopped by the house to drop off some paperwork and smelled the blood. Her aunt... Sybil... had been found dead in her residence in St. Petersburg. Her surveillance system confirmed that her girlfriend had been the one to pull the trigger.

As for her, a horde of blood-starved, pleasure-maddened vampires had taken over the entire castle, hunting one thing and one thing only. Her. They killed everyone in their path. Guards, servants, tourists... even her great grandfather, the Count Dracula himself, fell to the creatures. She was chased her into the woods, and they were ready to kill her when they all suddenly collapsed. At the time, she thought it had been a miracle. She didn't know the devastating cause of their sudden deaths.

Constantine Moureaux was dead. And when he died, so did nearly every vampire who was once human. Nearly. The magical connection between the first and made vampires was broken. Meaning the magic that made them vampires was gone, and they all turned human and rapidly aged. The only ones who still lived were all under the age of sixty total years.

Valentina Joselyn Dracula-Wes stared at her reflection in the window of the car. She barely recognized herself. She was thin and gaunt with dark shadows under her eyes poorly hidden by layers of makeup. Her eyes themselves were still that impossible bright blue—the inheritance of the Wes family line—but they no longer sparkled. She wondered if that was the effect of being forced to grow up so fast. Or maybe that was what happened when everything you loved was destroyed.

A quote from a creepy old video game a friend of hers used to play came to mind. "You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

Yes. Yes, she had.

She couldn't do this. She shouldn't have to do this. She wasn't even eighteen for another few months, how was this okay?! She should have been allowed to say no!

So, why wasn't she fighting harder? Why wasn't her father making a bigger fuss? Why did it have to be her?

The car stopped at the gates of the ceremonial grounds of the vampires. From what she'd been told, it had once been one of Constantine's many properties. When Paris grew larger and larger, and he'd turned it into a garden sanctuary of sorts. It was beautiful. It was a side of Constantine that she doubted many got to see. A side that she, herself, had never seen.

Then again, she'd only met the late king of the vampires twice in her life and had been a baby the first, so she didn't even remember it. The second and last time had been at her naming ceremony, or whatever the other members of the Dracula family had called it. The one where she was named the next Countess Dracula after her great grandfather on her grandmother's side. That meeting had been heavily supervised by both her grandfather and great grandfather, as no one seemed to trust Constantine alone with her.

Now she wished they had. Even for a few minutes. Despite everything they had told her, at that moment, Constantine had not come off as arrogant or cruel. He had been quiet, contemplative. And he looked at her as if she were a book he could not read. He scared her, of course, no one was foolish enough to stand before Constantine Moureaux and not be afraid. But she had actually been looking forward to the day she got to speak to him one on one. Now that would never happen.

The car door opened, and she was greeted by the soldier assigned to lead her personal guard. Everyone told her it was important to have someone experienced and easy to get along with, as they would be around each other nearly constantly. But she hadn't expected him to be so young. His file had been too complex and confusing to read as a whole, but she had noticed his age. Only twenty-five and, before the great tragedy, he'd been a lieutenant.

Taking his hand, she let him help her out of the car and under the protection of a large umbrella. "Thank you, Major Sassarman," she said quietly, fussing with her skirt. How many times had she told the stuffy old seamstress that the dress should have been cut off at her ankles? It was the twenty-first century, there was no need for the fussy layers of silk that made up the dress that were now just going to get soaked in water and caked in mud.

"It is my pleasure, your grace."

Val looked up at the man. She had seen several photos of him, but this was the first time actually seeing him. As expected, he was wearing his formal uniform, rank strips on the arm and medals of honor decorating his chest. He was a few inches taller that her five foot ten, which was nice. She'd always been a bit self-conscious of her height. He stood straight backed, and his eyes skimmed the area, as if ready for them to be attacked at any moment.

She felt nervous just looking at him. Not because of his age, experience, and military training. She had gotten used to being around people older, stronger, and wiser than she. What made so intimidating to be around was that she could see that he came from money. It was something she had always been able to pick up on, having grown up in California and then living amongst royals in Romania.

Jake Sassarman was not new-money, American celebrity kind of rich. He wasn't the American version of old money, where his great grandfather struck oil or gold, either. He was true, blue-blood aristocracy. Someone who was born into greatness, raised on a pedestal, and expected to meet and exceed the reputation of his family name at every turn.

Pretty much the exact opposite of her comparatively humble upbringing. On top of keeping the truth of what it meant to be related to the Count Dracula, Val's father had never let her know how much money they really had. They had a house, which was a privilege in Los Angeles, especially for a single parent, but it wasn't anything like her grandfather's. She went to a good school, but far from the best. She was never lacking for the things she needed, but if she ever wanted something, he made her work for it. He taught her the value of money without letting it get to her head. She had not been ready for the literal millions in inheritances that were now in her name.

Sassarman was the cherry on the top of a teetering cake of revelations she had been forced to accept in the last year. She had foolishly thought herself grown up and ready for the world. And now, more than anything, she wanted to crawl under her bed with her stuffed animals and cry.

"We should get going, your grace," he said. "Everyone is waiting for you."

He looked back down at her and, seeing that she was already staring, the corner of his mouth twitched up. A blush burned on her cheeks, and Val looked away again.

On his part, Jake couldn't believe his eyes or his luck. When he was told he would be the head of a personal guard for a child, he'd said a silent prayer for the death of his career. He'd forgotten that 'child' to the elders was anyone under the age of fifty. He was a child to the elders. Valentina was a grown woman, on the cusp of legal adulthood. The elders mockingly called her a child, but she was the most important vampire in the entire coalition right now.

The resemblance to her grandfather was incredible. Jake had considered it an honor to meet the Nolan Wes himself several times during his career and had admired him his entire life. People always said you would know a Wes by their eyes. Every single one of them had the same, bright, sapphire eyes, and the proof stood right before him. Though hers were empty of the icy authority of her grandfather's.

Hers were wide, betraying her fear and apprehension. Her hands twisted together, playing with the gold ring on her index finger of her right hand as they walked through the garden towards the tall hedges of the ceremonial grounds. She stood close to keep under the umbrella he held, but he imagined that if the skies were clear she would have been just as close. All in all, she was the complete opposite of what he had been expecting. He was still considering if that was a good or bad thing.

A few feet away from the opening of the hedges, Val hesitated and stopped. She started shaking and chewing on the inside of her cheek. The reality was starting to sink in. She didn't want to do this. She couldn't do this! She was too young. Too inexperienced. Too naïve.

But it was the king's will. So, it all fell on her.

"Your grace," he said slowly, and she looked up. He looked as worried and nervous as she was. "Before we go out there, may I confess to you without being judged as a coward?"

"Of... of course, Major. What is it?"

"I have never done this before," A sheepish grin of embarrassment spread across his handsome face. All of a sudden, she was blushing so hard, she felt like steam was coming out of her ears. "I'm scared as hell. Would you mind holding onto my arm, so I don't make a fool of myself?"

For the first time in what felt like decades, Val started giggling uncontrollably. His smile grew wider as she desperately tried to get a hold of herself and blinked rapidly so her tears of laughter wouldn't ruin her makeup. "Only on the condition that you don't let me fall on my face," she finally responded, and he was delighted to hear the confidence in her voice this time.

Her hand slipped around his forearm around his elbow, and she took the chance to squeeze the powerful muscles appreciatively. "Oh, come on," he teased gently, starting towards the opening of the hedges again. "If I screw up, I get fired and disowned from my family. You have the easy job. You just need to think of this as practice for your wedding day."

She made a very unladylike snort. "I'm pretty sure my father is supposed to walk me up the aisle for that."

"My bad. I'll just have to wait for you on the other side of the church then."

Val slowly turned her gaze up at him again, her lips slightly parted in a mix of shock and amusement. "You are bold, Major. Do you really think it's appropriate to flirt with me now? Right before I'm-"

Suddenly Jake's head snapped up, and in a smooth, well-practiced move, he twisted himself to plant himself between her and the stranger following them down the path. He still held the umbrella but looked ready to drop it at any second. "I will give you one opportunity," the stranger said in a low, heavily accented growl. "Get out of my way."

"You have a lot of nerve, showing your face here of all places," Jake spat back.

In a second, twenty more vampires surrounded Val, pulling her back and putting more separation between her and the stranger. They didn't get far as a thick wall of people surrounded them in the garden, and a chorus of harsh snarling rose through the night. Their eyes glowed red, but she knew they weren't vampires. Which meant they could only be the lycanthrope.

Whirling around again, she looked past Jake to see the man everyone had been talking about since she'd arrived in Paris. The high-resolution surveillance photos did not do him justice. Aarón Guerrero was a tank of a creature. A heavy frame carried powerful muscles and his face was twisted into an expression of pure rage. This was the man that killed her grandfather. The man that killed so many of her distant relatives.

"There does not need to be any more unnecessary death," Aarón spoke calmly despite the gravel in his tone. "You do not need to die tonight. Move."

With a jolt of terror, she realized who he was here for. Her. The final remnants of Nolan Wes's bloodline. He was here to finish the job. He, and all the other werewolves were ready to kill anyone who got in their way to do it. "S-stand down," she said in a tiny voice.

"Get her out of here," Cameron was snarling at the soldiers that surrounded her. "Now! Get her to-"

"I said stand down!" she shouted over all the noise, and everyone looked at her. She was shaking from head to toe but managed to step towards Jake and the Alpha King. "Step aside, Major."

"Val," her father barked, pushing people aside to get through. "Get away from him!"

"Your grace, back away!" Jake snapped at her.

"Anyone who disobeys will be tried for treason!" she desperately wished she felt as calm as her voice sounded.

The garden went silent, and, after a moment of hesitation, Jake took a tiny step to the side. Twisting the ring around her finger, a treasure Nolan had given her when she was thirteen, she took another step towards the much, much larger male. He looked down his nose at her, glowing red eyes narrowed in consideration and suspicion. "You are far more accepting of your fate than your grandfather," he said coolly. "That's good. I do not wish to bring you a painful death. It's best we get this over with."

"W-why?" She tried to keep her voice from shaking, but it was impossible with everyone's eyes on her, and the very cause of so much death right in front of her.

His eyes narrowed further. "Why what?"

"Why are we fighting each other?"

His lip curled, and his snarl made her flinch back. Jake edged closer to her again but did not disobey his orders by getting between them again. "Typical," he snapped. "I should have known your kind wouldn't even teach the history our breeds share. Tell me, girl, what have your masters told you? That the lycanthrope are jealous of your greatness?"

The jeering of the werewolves grew once again, and the vampire guard hissed in response. "N-no," Val silently cursed. She never stammered like this. "I know our side of the story; that your ancestor threatened the stability of the vampiric kingdom. And... and I've heard your side. That my grandfather nearly wiped out your breed on a whim."

Now the hissing was aimed at her, and she winced, knowing she was going to get a lecture for speaking about him that way.

"But... why are we fighting? Why are you, Aarón Guerrero, and I, Valentina Wes, fighting? Nothing you do will bring your ancestors back. Nothing I do can change what my grandfather did."

"I promised Nolan Wes that his family would face the same devastation he did to mine! I do not expect you to understand, nor do I need to explain it to you."

"Yes, you do!" Finally, the stubbornness famous of both the Dracula and Wes lines kicked into gear. "If you're going to kill me, then the least you can do is tell my why. If you're going to kill my father, my uncle, my little brother... you owe me an explanation."

She looked over her shoulder, tears brimming her eyes, to look at her father, the edges of his body fraying as he struggled to hold back his shade. Next to him was her uncle Bastian, leaning into his cane with one hand and holding Ethan with the other. Her brother was anxiously sucking his thumb and staring wide-eyed at the strangers surrounding them. Swallowing hard, she looked back to Aarón, who was still giving her the same, contemplative glower.

"Nolan Wes is dead," she continued. "All but four of his descendants are dead. Thousands of vampires have died with the loss of our king. Are we not devastated enough to sate the blood lust of your ancestors? What good does it do to continue this cycle of hate and violence?"

"It has nothing to do with good or evil, you child. It has everything to do with what is right. Your grandfather hunted my people like dogs. The Counsel would not hold him accountable for his actions, even as he continued to beat my breed into the ground. He is single-handedly responsible for the state my people are in!"

"And now he's dead. He is not here to witness you kill me or his sons or grandson. He is not here to decide what path we take or judge how we move forward. I may be a child, but I have long since given up on dreams that get me nowhere. I... I beg you to consider what can be done for us to break off the path my grandfather has set us both on. Because this... us fighting... me following in his footsteps and continuing the hunt... that's what he would want."

A long pause stretched out between them. The red in Aarón's eyes started to fade, revealing dark, chocolate brown irises. "What, then," she almost didn't recognize how easily he went from aggressive snarling to calm diplomacy. "Do you want, little vampira?"

"I... I don't know. All I do know is that I will never live up to my grandfather's legacy, good or bad. I can never fill the vacuum left by him and Constantine. So..." she took a shuddering breath, set her shoulders back, and looked up at the werewolf with all the confidence she did not have. "So, I'm not going to try. I will walk my own path. I would rather walk beside my sibling breed than continue this fight."

Another long pause as Aarón considered her. Then, his lip curled in a placating smile, and she was relieved to see that his fangs were flattening back to regular, human-shaped teeth. "Very well, Valentina Wes," he almost hissed her last name. "Let's see if you truly can break away from your grandfather's murderous tendencies."

He turned his back on her and took a step back towards the exit of the gardens. Panic flooded Val's system again as a horrific thought clicked into place. "W-wait," she called after him, hoping she didn't sound as scared as she really was. "As a sign of good faith, I would ask you to stay."

More hissing from the vampires behind her, and she wanted so badly to tell them to shut up. Aarón also started growling again. "I have offered enough good faith by not killing you where you stand, girl. Don't push your luck."

He didn't know. He didn't understand. Shit, she had to make him stay. "Then... then consider this an official invitation," she continued to ignore the warning hissing at her back. "To show that I am ready to put in the work so that our people may walk side by side, Aarón Guerrero, King of the Lycanthrope, I formally invite you to attend the coronation of the next Queen of the Vampires; Valentina Dracula-Wes. You and... and all you have brought with you are welcome to attend."

Aarón's shoulders and chest expanded on a heavy inhale, and the breath came out in a huff. "Fine," he hissed. "Lead on, princess."

She was so relieved, she could have fainted. Instead, she groped for Jake's arm again and leaned heavily into him as he walked her back to the ceremony. She could feel the disgusted looks from the rest of the vampires, even the look from her own father. So, she looked to Bastian. As she hoped, his face was neutral, and his blue eyes gave nothing away. It was neither approval nor disagreement of her choice. All he did was nod. That was enough to get her through this.

Val knelt before the magistrate, not even caring that the skirt of her dress was soaked in mere seconds, even though Jake continued to hold the umbrella over her head. She felt numb to the core, and later she would barely remember the oaths and promises they walked her through.

At the end of the ceremony, she stood and turned to face the attending vampires. As they knelt before their young queen, the werewolves looking on without a fraction of emotion, it took every ounce of her strength not to collapse under the weight of the crown now placed on her head.

~