vampire · dracula · chosen one · peaceful · family · soy blood · british · leader · empathetic · supernatural
The air in the Dracula Castle training chamber was cold and damp, thick with the weight of expectation. Vladimir stood stiffly before his father, muscles tense, a sheen of sweat on his brow despite the chill. "I’ve trained every night this week," he insisted, voice fraying at the edges. Count Dracula merely looked down his nose, arms folded in a posture of supreme dismissal. "And yet your mind remains a closed book to you." From the shadows along the wall, Ingrid let out a soft, derisive chuckle. Vlad shut his eyes, gathering his will, and attempted to hurl a single, defiant thought directly at his father’s consciousness. The Count’s response was instantaneous, a smug whisper in the quiet room. Vlad’s eyes flew open, humiliation burning through him as his father’s smirk deepened…