"If I am to be your lawyer, I think it best that I understand more about your past." Renfield commented as he gathered the final few pieces of paperwork required into looking at his clients residency in London.
"You do not need to know anything about my past, Renfield." Hissed a voice that echoed & tumbled down the stairs of the dimly lit, not to mention highly expensive apartment.
"You have all the sufficient paperwork here, just simply work your magic with the solicitors and be done with it. Then I can settle & get down to my business." the latter word hissed on his tongue, almost snakelike in it's sound. Renfield trotted his way to the end of the stair, wistfully looking up to where the voice came.
"My lord, I only see it wise that should your travels be brought up into a conversation, I should require that information." the red haired man gawked up at the empty hallway, waiting for a response from his employer. The silence dragged on for a moment more & caused the lawyer to wonder if the other were even still there with him, until of course, the tall dark haired man prowled out swirling a glass of red liquid, a single hand in one pocket as he stared out into the open to think things over momentarily.  Dark eyes rolled down to meet the lawyer, and the serious expression on his face melted into a soft laugh.
"Fine, Renfield, I will speak of my past. If it helps me achieve what I have set to do, then so be it." he spat, making his way down the stair before showing off his power with the following sequence: the dark haired man moved at a quick pace to an empty seat, a cheeky grin spreading across his face before his hand came up, raising the glass of red liquid to his lips. In one smooth motion, the vampire kicked the chair out opposite him, flicking his eye from the seat up to his obedient Renfield. The lawyer stood at the foot of the stair, clinging to a small cluster of papers, and rolled his head to find his employer seated casually at a long dining table that stretch from main door to window, ironic considering that he didn't eat food. Renfield couldn't deny it, he were in awe of his masters power & only hungered to be just like him, or even have the ounce of respect that he gave his all. With a lick of his lips, and push up of his glasses, the tall, wide eyed lawyer made his way over & eagerly took his seat opposite the vampire. Clearing his throat, Renfield dug into his beige jacket pocket in search of a pen, struggling a little under the watchful gaze of his client before triumphantly finding one, giving a little wiggle in victory, though the vampire kept his still cold stare un-phased entirely. Organising his papers, he pressed the tip of the ink to the sheet, and smiled eagerly to the vampire. "Please, Count Dracula. Tell me your story."
The vampire sat back in his seat, raising his legs to lounge on top of the table, and there he rose his glass a final time, swirling before taking a sip, and of course savouring the vintage, before letting it rest against his belt buckle and replied "Very well."                                                                           

                                                                                March 11th, 1443. 

The sun rose abnormally bright that morning, harsh against the tired eyes of the early risers but a grateful warmth to the chilly morning. The surrounding fields & woodlands of Wallachia sparkled with thick frost, and soft crunches of a small pair of feet crushing the ice on grass & soil. A tiny pair of fingers brushed past leaves, desperately searching for enough kindling, logs, or twigs, anything to get back inside, out of the cold & place his little fingers in front of a burning hot fire. His Mamă wouldn't be happy in the slightest that the wood were tinged with damp, but how could be find dead wood that wasn't completely dry in an ice covered morning? It would surely smoke in the basket, eight year old Omor only hoped that the fire remained hot enough from the night to take off the chill of wood to bring about a fresh burning fire. Using his hip, the boy pushed the door open enough just to squeeze through, fighting against that one stone on the floor that were just that little bit too tall to be near the doorway, but not enough to let the cold of outside reach his newborn sister. Omor remembered the day clearly, it were only last month but the arrival of his baby sister felt like yesterday.
He were ushered out at the time of her birth, an act that men & boys should never be present for, caught lurking behind the small simple table where they ate & prepared dinner, his mother on her bed panting & whining & Omor wondered why this newborn were hurting his Mamă what had she done to deserve being treated like this? A group of women gathered around her, but the considerably older one pressing a wet towel to his Mamă 's  forehead caught Omor's eye & ushered "Exista un baiat, scoate-I!" to a woman of younger years just stood off to the side, hanging up many crosses in any space she could find. Attentively, the girl, around her late teens, followed the midwife's eye & spotted the dark haired child trying to hide behind the table leg. With a gentle smile, she approached the child & swiftly stole his hand "This is no place for young boys, copil." the woman gently chastised before passing his hand into his Tată's own. The pair of them waited inside the small ale house, not really a building designed for travellers, more so for workers of the fields & woods to refresh themselves at the end of a day. Luckily, within a few hours, and just before the sun dropped & brought with it an icy chill, there were news that both mother & child were healthy & that Omor could finally meet his newborn baby sister. Breaking free from his father's grasp, the child ran across the frozen grounds, ducking & diving past people until he reached home, where the elderly woman from earlier grabbed Omor's shoulder & beckoned him to keep quiet. He crossed his heart to make a silent promise before tip toeing across to the bed, seeing his Mamă cradle a small bundle of blankets. 
"Omor," called a weak female voice, one that still held sprinkles of joy & relief. The boy looked up to his Mamă upon her call, then carefully climbed onto the bed with her too mesmerised by the sudden appearance of another tiny human to worry about anything else. She were so fat & pink but all together so tiny. Without looking back, the child heard his Tată finally follow suit in entering their home, walking with heavy footing to the other side of the bed to take a look at his firstborn daughter. "Daciana Dracula." his mother announced softly, a thumb gently stroking her newborns head. Though Omor Dracula could speak, pronouncing his sister's name in the beginning were a little difficult, so he kept her name to 'Da' for short.

As Daciana slept in a wooden cot just next to his Mamă's bedside where she were born, his Mamă were already getting to work on preparing food for the day, despite the fact that it generally were always the same in taste, always some kind of broth with meat & vegetables, sometimes with herbs, sometimes with spices, extra treat days were găluște cu carne, a dumpling served with meat, but mostly the broth were served with a small portion of bread. He knew nothing more in terms of flavour, unless it were a different animal his father were able to hunt but otherwise this were just how life were. Simplicity, survival. Speaking of which, as Omor warmed his hands on the dying embers of the fire wishing the wood he gathered & placed on top would catch a light sometime soon, his Tată came in from the outside carrying his bow & arrow set. He beckoned Omor closer, and the boy obeyed. With a heavy hand, unlike the gentle touch of his mouth, his Tată pressed down on the boy's shoulder. 
"Today, we are going to learn to hunt. You are the oldest child now Omor, it's important you know how we hunt our food. You will need to learn how to feed your family one day." The taller man seemed cheery in his description even though the notion cause the young Dracula to turn pale, feeling sick at the idea of giving chase to an innocent animal & cutting it's life short but he knew better than to disagree with his Tată, and so by swallowing his feelings back, he pulled away from the bigger man to grab his jacket & followed him out into the woods. 

As the frost continued to crush under his feet, he wondered if maybe he could fake an injury or an illness, anything to get out of this horrid situation but somehow Tată's always knew when their child were lying, no matter how convincing or serious the story may be. The woods were unnervingly still, there were no wind blowing on the branches, no leaves dancing in the breeze, there seemed to be nothing out in the wild today. The only problem with being in that frozen world were that,  steadily in the back of Omor's mind, paranoia began to set in. He could feel a pair of eyes tingling along the back of his shoulders, an uneasy feeling of someone watching him closely. He silently prayed that it weren't a pack of animals doing the reverse on him & his Tată, hunting them to provide food for a young cub. As the boy carefully turned around, he saw nothing, nothing more than just endless woodland slowly defrosting from the mornings chill. Once more, he turned around to find his father & yet he were nowhere to be found. Should he call out? Or should he try & find him? He weighed the options in his mind all the while looking round in circles. If he called, he might scare off any animal that his Tată might how found & would result in an arrow to the leg probably. But if he searched further into the wood for him, there were a possibility that he'd either stumble into him or get lost in the woods forever.  There were stories tied to these woods, stories that his Mamă told him regularly, that children who wonder alone in these woods are never to return home, never seen again. But now here he were, lost & alone in the woods that his Mamă had warned him about, no clue of where his Tată were, and a horrid sinking feeling crept up his spine once more as he felt that tingle return along his shoulders. The tingle of being watched but this time, instead of it being paranoia, he felt a warm breath crawl on the back of his neck. Ever so carefully, Omor turned around to face whatever it may be that had crept up behind him, eyes closed to prepare himself, painting a picture of the day his sister were born, a final happy image before the end to keep himself calm as he were sure he were about to meet his death.

Slowly his eyes opened. In front of him were the largest pair of black eyes he'd ever seen, glassy & sparkling in the morning light, almost crazed like with a chest covered in untamed, wild fur, and a mass of horns. With a few blinks, deep breaths, and certainly a little sniffling, the boy discovered that the creature that were  stalking him through the forest weren't a demonic creature from hell, but instead a rather curious Deer. Omor gave out a gentle laugh of relief, laughing & sniffling as the panic washed away from him & found there was nothing for him to be afraid of in the first place. Carefully, he reached cold fingers up to the warm fur of the animals cheek, which in turn gave a small jolt in surprise but it's curiosity in the boys smell intrigued it further. Just as the deer were about to lean in Omor's hair, a sharp squelch & soft choke flew to his ears before a thud & rustling. His eyes followed down as he watched the creature crash to the ground, where an arrow tore through it's throat & began to slowly bleed out but with enough life to kick its, legs to run in terror despite having no ground to go on. The Deer looked up to the young boy, it's large glassy eyes looking at him in plea, in mercy. Dracula's breath were caught in his throat, just like the animals, as he stood & watched it on the ground. His Tată came across then, beaming with pride at his prize catch.
"Good, now, you learn to put it out of it's misery." as he thrust a knife against his son's chest. Omor sloppily reached up to the blade but he couldn't take his eyes off that Deer. "Come on, Omor." his Tată demanded, giving the boy a shove that he fell on his knees. Omor's lip began to tremble. How could he do it?
"I... I can't." the small voice shivered in the cold. With a groan of annoyance, his Tată joined the boy on his knees, snatching away the blade & slicing swiftly through the animals neck. Omor Dracula gasped out in horror at how swiftly the whole event had happened, turning his head away to the side where a few tears of shock escaped him.
"It is better to put the creature out of it's misery, than to let it suffer, Omor." his Tată explained & whilst that did make sense, it were still a horrible sequence of events leading up to it. The boy noticed the bloodied knife on the ground as his Father worked on getting the arrow removed from the deer's neck, and lightly picked up the blade. Something stirred within him as he eyed the instrument, just as his Father heaved the dead animal over his shoulder, carrying it back in the direction toward home. As the moment replayed back to him at a faster pace, something stirred within in the boy that just made him stand up, square his legs, and with a swift flick, Omor Dracula threw the knife at his Tată. What purpose it served, he didn't know. He just knew he had to do it, like it were some kind of revenge from the animal. His father gave out a roar in agony as the blade met his upper left thigh. Hobbling down slowly to take the weight off the pain, his father yelled back "Why would you do that?!".
"I don't know." Omor answered honestly, eyes dropping from his fathers to the dead deer's. "I was aiming for the deer." he tried the excuse on for size.
"The deer is dead, Omor. You had your chance to prove yourself a man, men don't kill what is already dead. Only fools do." he whined as he pulled the knife out easily, eyeing the blade. Thankfully his son was only young, not strong enough to do any real damage. But the real fool here were his Father. Small wounds could do damage. If unspoken of, if untreated, wounds can become infected, and if not treated quickly or properly, can bring death. That's exactly what happened. Over the coming weeks, Omor Dracula's father began to deteriorate, faltering, mood swings, were to name a few. They hadn't known what had brought on such sudden illness, nor did the boy, but it wasn't long after this his Tată's soul had departed.

"Why did you throw the the blade, Count?" Renfield asked, breaking Dracula out of his thoughts. The red haired man rest the tip of the pen, ink side up, inside his mouth as he waited for his master to reply. Count Dracula looked off to the side as if the answer lay there, eyes scanning back & forth on a small space on the floor.
"Hmm? Oh. I suppose I were angry. This one moment in my life, the one time I felt safe and with a wild creature too, and my Tată ripped it away from me in front of my very eyes. The Deer deserved revenge & I felt it were up to me to hand it to him with the same blade that took it's life. I just didn't expect it to also take my Father." a long finger stroked at the rim of his glass in short scratches. 
"Forgive me, Dracula." Renfield placed his pen down neatly onto the table, folding his hands on top of the paper as he leaned in "But this moment in the woods, you say it as though that one moment with that animal was the happiest you'd ever been, but you've been around for centuries. Surely this wasn't the only moment in life where you felt happiness & at peace?"
Dracula's eyes scanned away from Renfields aging face as he searched his brain for another memory, where a smile caused him to drop his head.
"Of course not. But with peace & happiness, comes turmoil & tragedy. One can't exist without the other, that is the simple balance of life."

                                                                                    July 1452