Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10241855.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Other
  Fandom:
      Van_Helsing_(2004)
  Relationship:
      Vladislaus_Dracula/Original_Character(s)
  Character:
      Vladislaus_Dracula, Brides_of_Dracula
  Additional Tags:
      Rape, Blood_and_Gore
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-12 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2815
****** The Fourth Bride ******
by heroesinahalfshell91
Summary
     Ileana takes a wrong turn that could mean the end of her life,
     Dracula is there when she does.
Ileana, her thread bare skirts gathered in hand, high about her knees
cautiously picked her way with great care through the muddy and treacherous
marsh the fells had become. Ever had her mother warned her of the dangers that
came with such a sharp and unruly land, but, what, the girl wondered would she
have said of Ileana were she here today? It was likely all well and good that
the woman was dead, for had she not been she would have surely died of fright
at what had become of her daughter.
As a stone bit sharp into one of the young woman's bare soles she couldn't help
but utter a curse upon the land, for her presence in the stagnant Hell. While
Ileana had prided herself in making do with the merger nothing that had been
left her, and what she'd been able to garner through wit and craft, there was
still a perpetual hunger gnawing at her belly, and a constant chill in her
bones.
Pausing she allowed sorrow and self pity to cloud and eventually overcome the
bitterness and anger. Her father she could have quite easily done without all
her life long, the drunkard bastard had been a lout, quick with the rod, and
possessed a strong favor for women and gambling. His death she had been all to
eager to welcome, save for the two coppers a day, mind. Though those two copper
were rarely enough to keep them in bread and fat, never you mind the blessed
and scarcely come upon gift of tea. Only a fortnight after the fiend gave up
the ghost to cholera than did go first the baby, then her mother.
How Ileana missed her mother, and mourned her sister never knowing a true taste
of life. And so it was that she had been turned out by the lord of the land, a
pauper, and woman of the age fourteen, as of the morrow that is, she had been
given two choices: firstly indentured servitude to the lord, or secondly life
on the fells.
The girl snorted, sweeping an auburn lock from before her eyes as she struggled
to see in the twilight which crept eagerly about her, her pride was as ever her
downfall. Even now as she struggled along the rocky five miles to Heatherbrooke
so as to come by the final wares of the eve, it was her pride that kept her
moving.
It had rained all day, and the day before that, and even so far and three days
aback, had it rained. So bad was it that the craggy stone filled landscape had
become, this, a soggy void which sucked at her feet each time she plunged them
down. Prideful and vain, Ileana could just hear her mother chastising her,
still the lass smiled, no amount of rain was going to keep her from getting the
best out of the only penny she had to her name, even if it meant traveling so
far in such unseasonable weather.
At last however the land began to solidify beneath her, and all too suddenly
she stood upon a well worn cart track. Tracing it back with her eyes she could
tell it came from the tilled and farmed plots in the lowlands to the south.
Returning her eyes toward her journey's end however the brunette could see it
trail off into a thick standing of trees. Suppressing a childish shudder as she
banished away images of snarks, and goblins and other nasty things her nursery
had been filled with tale of she squared her shoulders and stared straight on.
Though she never felt mightier as she chased down the fear which lingered in
her mind and willfully extinguished it the young woman had never been more
frail. Silhouetted by the newly risen moon's light Ileana was nothing more than
a slip of a girl. The long weeks spent alone had sapped what fiery spirit the
thirteen year old had left, and the cold nights spent curled with nothing more
than a rag for comfort ate at her flesh as each morn she seemed to awake
thinner, more fragile somehow. The girl's hair had lost its luster and now bore
twigs and straw, her pale skin vied for its former loveliness and now seemed
sickly in its longing for the pink hues now missing. Her eyes contrary to her
otherwise overall metamorphosis were silver and strong, like her mother's, and
remained wholly unchanged.
The trees, however frightening at first soon gave Ileana a strange type of
comfort as she crept in their midst, pausing only to place her tired old shoes
upon her feet, having nearly forgotten them in hand. The world seemed to close
in around her as she walked on. It was strange and beautiful in its own right
and thoughts of calling this land home, as apposed to the opens fells began to
seem more and more illustrious.
Cutting sharp through the night air the scream of a fox caused icy fingers of
fear to trace her spine as she walked. It was clear to her by now that the
journey had been in vain as she would no doubt reach Heatherbrooke in the
middle of the night. Never the less there would be some doorway in which she
could pass the eve surely, and buy her breads in the freshness of the new day.
The thought of warm bread comforted the girl and filled her with a hopeful
longing. She was so preoccupied by the thought so familiar and dear that she
failed to hear the tromp of boots as they fell into pace behind her. She had
gone on some ways still without taking notice, until a scarcely muffled laugh
rumbled behind her. Ileana daren't look, rather she quickened her pace, sensing
the looming presence of a man just a step behind her. She'd only begun to
contemplating running when a shadow passed before her blocking the path from
view.
"Well, well." came a fierce and dunken slurred voice from the figure barring
her way causing her to stop dead in her tracks. Ileana closed her eyes tightly
in fear, her nose wrinkling in response to his stench. Then the girl's eyes
flashed open in panic as a large calloused hand brushed her cheek and flowed
down her throat.
"No!" the lass protested, all imagery of bread, and the hope of a warm full
belly fleeing from her as she thought now only of taking flight from these men
who were stalking the roads so late in the even times.
"She doesn't like ye!" laughed the other as the girl retreating from the first
backed into the second.
The men regarded her with cruel, hungry eyes for a long moment as they closed
in on her, their hands tracing slow tracks along her form. One hand running
down the length of her arm causing her to jerk away, his counterpart caressing
the small of Ileana's back and lower, making the child yelp and jump away in
surprise.
"Please," Ileana whispered in a frantic rush. Her heart hammered in a
thunderous din, each pump of blood coursing her through with a fear made cold
and lingering by the adrenaline which wetted her veins. "Please, I- I beg you,
let me pass."
"And where would you be off to at such an hour?" the brute before her laughed
tracing his hand along the side of her face, leaving more dirt behind than had
been there prior. He was tall and bore a thick filthy beard, an ale sodden
thing which was a fine fit for the ragged tunic and breeches he wore.
"Particularly when you are so very alone?" the second and younger of the vile
pair asked. He was shorter, clean shaven, and less inebriated. He seemed softer
to the frightened girl who turned to address him, only to be chilled by the
hot, hungry light she found flickering in his eyes.
In desperation Ileana took to her heels, trying vainly to flee from the pair.
One of them seized her, flinging just off the cart track, and into the damp,
mildewing leaf litter. In an instant they were a top her, like hounds set upon
a fox vying for power and control arguing and fighting amongst themselves,
heedless of the battered body they came to fight over. First one grabbed hold,
splaying her legs with hands that would bruise, then the other, the letures,
tearing at clothes, laughing as the haggard young woman screamed and fought
them as best she could, feeble before their might.
"Help me!" she wailed as her assailants, mouthed, bit, and molested her.
"Please, someone!"
A weight came upon Ileana then, terrible and crushing as they toyed with her.
The pain of a stolen maidenhead was at first sharp as the elder thrust himself
inside of her, greedy, and lusting he wasted little precious time in prolonging
the ordeal. As he bore down upon her, rock and stone cut her back the pain
between her legs becoming a raging inferno, the virginal blood doing little to
ease the friction, his girth tearing her further as the girl thrashed about in
a frenzied manner.
Ileana screamed and prayed, calling out to God above for salvation, as she
tried to fend them away. Her fight doubled when the men changed positions,
their first coming to hold her down whilst the second had his turn. Lashing out
mightily Ileana managed to unbalance one of her rapists, wrenching her arms
away from the other. There was a moment of confusion, and disarray as she
scrambled on hands and knees through the turf, snarled roots and throny
underbrush clawing at the young woman, and impeding her progress.
A hand about one ankle brought her back into place, dragging her ruthlessly
over the damp earth. She kicked out like a mule, with the other, catching one
of them somewhere soft. They remarked between themselves, and the young man
laughed merrily. It was a high, glittering sort of laugh which gave the
impression of a song bird. Unreasonably this have Ileana hope.
"My lord," she shrieked when they rolled her over. "I beseech thee, do not do
this."
It was all for not, he ignored the plea, and did as he would, reducing the
utterly spent child to a fit of broken tears. Disillusioned with life, with
humanity, and unable go on her vain endeavor for freedom, floundering at best
she found herself languishing in despair with little else to do, but wait for
it to all be over. After what seemed like years, trapped in this stagnant abyss
of fear, torture, and self-loathing it finally was, and they stood, redressing,
watching as she curled in of herself choking on tears. Wallowing in shame the
child wished then that the cholera had taken her also, wasting her away until
dehydration and fever fueled seizures stole her from the world she never knew
could be so cruel, just as it had her family.
Scarcely aware of their murmuring she wept as the men whispered amongst
themselves, the conversation became briefly heated when finally the youth
turned his attention back to Ileana and with a rough hand rolled her over. She
couldn't face him, and turned her visage away, hiding in the cloying leaves,
smoothing her sorrows. Had the child the fortitude to look on her oppressor she
would have seem how he brandished the knife, skillfully, eagerly.
The keen bladed weapon slid into her abdomen thrice with ease before the girl's
mind could comprehend the meaning of this new and sudden torment. Her breathing
ragged she watched in horror at the blood slowly seeping from her now porous
stomach, a dull ache imbedding itself into her bones, iron lacing her tongue as
from a punctured lung she sputtered miserably condemned breaths.
"That's enough!" the breaded man snarled yanking the other away. He watched the
life ebbing out of the girl whose hands washed in confused, jerking motions
over the wounds as she tried to staunch what bleeding she could. Where he had
only moments ago taken his pleasure out of the girl's flesh, there now held a
hint of remorse in his eyes. "You didn't have to do it, not a soul would give a
damn who'd broke the waif in." he sighed shaking his head solemnly at the loss
of life, before motioning his companion to follow, spitting with displeasure
upon the ground.
Left alone with only the fine evening mist clinging to the sound of retreating
footfalls for company, Ileana felt the cold steal away within her bones. Her
fingers numbly tracing over her stomach, and the life seeped out of her,
darkness clouding her vision...
Although he could not deny that the scene brought to him a certain amount of
arousal, any more than he could deny his own vampiric nature, it did give the
Count Vladislaus Dracula pause. The young maiden lying just to the side of the
path bloodied and broken by the savages of man, her pale breasts draped in a
moonlit glow, blood pooling around her, legs splayed exposing the crushed rose
that was her ruined womanhood. He felt the heat of the moment swell within him,
excitement and hunger growing beyond his control.
The vampire had been hunting for answers just as much as he had been prey. His
brides forlorn, languishing in the guilt and regret that was their horrid,
undead brood, creatures only mothers could love, and abominations no deity in
either Heaven or Hell saw fit to breathe life into. There was hope, however
frail, a promising young scientist but doubt still clung to Dracula with a
cruel oppression and caused him to seek the solitude of midnight. So this
morsal was a welcomed find.
Approaching the wretch a smile etched itself upon the immortal's face the slow
minuet of her fading heartbeat reaching his ears. Moved by the subtle tempo,
now dancing towards the girl with an inhuman grace the son of the devil fell
upon her, tasting the stolen virginal blood between her legs. She whimpered, a
hand finding the crown of his head she pushed away weakly but it made the
vampire's lusty hunger grow, he loved it best when they fought, especially when
there was nothing left to fight for. His fangs peaking he bit savagely into the
tender, bruised flesh earning a little scream from the dying young woman.
Dracula laughed, a low wicked sound as he gave in to animalistic side, forcing
her legs open side as he savored the moment, tongue tracing circles in ruined
flesh with excitement as she tried pushing away once more. Moving upwards, his
mouth was still greedy, tongue tracing and entering the knife wounds, eliciting
small cries and tears from his victim, as he playfully explored the newly made
wounds. He fingered and enjoyed the bloody holes carved in her, before sending
her end nearing Dracula a different pleasure. Finding her throat the man closed
his hand around it, playing the cat to her mouse Dracula missed kissed her
roughly.
Lost in the ecstasy of his life and death game animal hunger clashing with a
man's needs Dracula thrust inside of the ruined girl, relishing the warmth of a
living woman around him. Rocking violently within the cradle of her loins
pressure built, feral light coming to the undead creature's eyes. Throwing his
head back with a snarl Dracula fought the pressure and the exhilieration until
it began to turn into a throbbing pain yet still he fought becoming more
frenzied in his assault, back arching as he forced his way deeper and deeper
inside. When the moment finally arrived the vampire lunged forward fangs
sinking into the supple flesh that only thinly veiled the child's arteries the
thick, iron tang of blood filling his mouth and sliding down his throat. By the
time he had finished the young woman was fading quickly, sobbing with only a
half consciousness as the life within her ebbed away.
Dracula stalled for only a moment more, but a moment was long enough for the
idea to take hold, as a flicker of his former humanity rose to the surface in a
brief spark of remorse. It took only a small amount of his black blood to begin
the tranformation. It was a waste truly, the convulsions wracking her form as
blood containing the fires of Hell corrupted her body.
Stooping down a retrieved the girl and took flight...
"Will this little whore really become your new bride my lord?" Verona asked
despise dripping from her lips like venom, though one look from her master had
her recoiling in fear and subjugation.
"If she survives the change." he said evenly. Taking his leave the Count left
Ileana in capable, though begrudging care of the three brides that had come
before her.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!