Chapter Text
"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you.
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you."
-"The Music of the Night," from Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera
*****
Mina retreated to her room in confused dread, the Priest's words coming to her in echoes. His explanations, once whole, had twisted and become fractured in her mind, broken glass puncturing her sense of faith and understanding.
Vampire...blood...Maria...victims...elixir...the Count.
Maria. The Count.
Good God.
The two most exciting and intriguing people she'd ever known, who'd both just given her one of the most memorable nights of her life, being described to her as monsters, cut the deepest, threatening to let lose the painful sobs she now struggled to hold back, lest she disturb her fellow houseguests.
Mina reached her door. Where only a mere half an hour ago she had closed it behind her as if to hide, leaning against it in shrinking ecstasy, with the pleasure of a secret she felt like she couldn't tell anyone else, she now shut it with force, as if to keep the truth from following in with her. She felt as if she'd suffered a great loss, like she'd been told Maria and the Count were in a terrible accident on their way home and she'd never see them again.
But there was no accident, and they weren't dead. According to the Priest, they were never even alive. Like she'd spent the whole evening communing and reveling with ghosts.
Mina had always loved a good story, tales of magic and destiny and creations of old. But it wasn't so fun to suddenly be living in one herself.
Sniffling, she tried distracting herself by unloading her parcel and removing her gloves, to retire for the night like she normally would. But as she did, she was quickly made to recall the Count's strange gift, hiding amongst the cloth. As she uncovered the music box, she sighed quietly, noting how its untarnished golden sheen quickly caught the room's light, taunting her now with its content of origin.
Or was it inviting her?
Mina pursed her lips together. It was strange to consider, but perhaps the recent weeks' events had all been preordained in some way. If not by God, then perhaps by whatever sorcery had produced the vampires. First, she felt as if her engagement to Jonathan came as a bad omen. Then she'd met and befriended Maria, who made her feel seen in a way she'd never been before, and like they could've and should've been friends for far longer than just a few days. When Mina had come calling after her "condition," which she now understood had been related to Maria's apparent vampirism, the Priest and Dr. Dumont encouraged her to speak her truth, to confess to feelings she once thought delirious, blasphemous even, then offered no judgment for them, the Priest even acknowledging her to be no ordinary woman. Which, for a doctor and a priest, seemed highly unusual to her, but it appeared they too were not of the ordinary. Then Maria showed up at her door feigning wellness and promising her a meeting with the Count, who just so happened to be in town as all of this was happening.
How naive she was to ignore that gut feeling of uncertainty she had at the coincidental timing of his arrival.
But at the same time, how could she not, though? When Mina and Maria had gone to meet him at the Grand Hotel foyer, and Mina had locked eyes with him from across the room, it'd been so satisfying then, like fitting that final missing piece into a puzzle, completing the image. She hadn't yet known this was the Count but found herself hoping he would be. He looked at her with the same sort of astonishment and recognition as Maria had, only his was tinged with another indiscernible emotion, one she sensed he was struggling to hold back once they'd finally come face-to-face with each other.
"I have the strangest feeling that we have known each other for a long time," he'd said to her in that charming, low-toned accent, his voice hinting like he knew something she didn't yet. His propensity for such strange, romantic words brought upon flashes. Thoughts like deja vu in her head when he kissed her hand or assisted her at the target game, along with the prickling heat of surrender that came with his body being so close to hers. Was it true that she once knew this man?
Then there was the music box, its lilting little tune clearly aiming to awaken some long-dormant part of her as the flashes became more insistent, more prevalent. An item which the Count, Vlad, seemed all too accepting of parting onto her despite its inherent sentimental value. Monetary too, for that matter.
Mina winced, caressing the cool metal beneath her fingertips. She'd attributed his odd behavior to grief, and although unfamiliar with the feeling herself, she knew enough about it to know it had a powerful effect on people, especially between married couples or parents of young children. Surely, the fact that she reminded him so of his late wife couldn't be helped. Could it?
Open me and find out, the music box seemed to say, its reflective surface blurrily exposing the confusion and wonderment in Mina's eyes.
Feeling her hands move as if of their own accord, Mina gently plucked it off the table, cradling it as its coolness sent shivers through her arms. Strange how it could withstand so much time, see so much history, but appear as though not a day had gone by since its glory period. Not unlike Vlad himself.
She could hear Jonathan wincing from downstairs and the stern words of the house matron reminding his party to quiet down, but she paid them no mind.
She inhaled softly as she opened the lid, the music box following her command as its mechanics began to twinkle and sing, its notes as familiar and comforting to her like the birds and trees she'd hear upon the wind. More manufactured, yes, but no less beautiful.
And almost soon as its song had begun, the flashes started coming to her again in quick succession. A woman dancing. Sweeps of flowing, unrestrained blonde hair turning about the room; so unlike Mina's hair, sleek and dark and always structured to perfection inside her up-do. Laughter. Intimacy. Freedom. Along with that same feeling of surrender she felt from standing near Vlad. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes as the pure beauty of these emotions practically begged her to indulge in them.
Safely tucked away in her room, away from propriety and modesty, she didn't resist it this time.
And with her acceptance, it was like everything slowed down. What started out as flashes had now become a full scene, like motion picture playing on a projector.
The blonde woman wore Mina's face but seemed entirely different to her as well. The finest material covered her body, with even her hair adorned with jewels; the large fireplace, candelabras, and bay windows surrounding her suggested a room of luxury, perhaps intended for royalty. But the woman cared not for any of it, merely an extension of her existence as she danced about the room, lost in the music as Mina was. Her movements were of a graceful and carefree nature, her closed eyes of concentration indicating she hadn't been allowed to embrace it very often, so when she did, it mattered to her, serving as a reminder of her truest self.
Already, Mina could understand this woman.
As the woman's head lulled about in her dance, Mina felt hers go simultaneously, the music surrounding her in its strangely warm and familiar embrace. And only then did she start to recognize that another presence had entered the room. A man, most likely the woman's husband, observing her as she danced. The woman kept her arm raised in a gesture of offering, and his hand reached through the blurred edges of the scene to close over it. Ah, the way she looked at him then! The way they both looked at him. The love in their eyes and smile as their gazes met his and he moved forward to join them at their side. Like him being there was enough to convince them that everything would be okay. Like amidst this room full of riches, he was its truest treasure.
It occurred to Mina she'd never once looked at Jonathan that way. And she envied this woman for it.
No, not woman. Princess. And this man was her Prince. Her King. Her life.
She felt hands cup her face at the same time the Prince did so for the Princess, and Mina smiled, his touch as dear to her as the music.
She couldn't tell if she was even conscious anymore, locked inside a dream or not, but she swore she could hear Vlad's spellbinding words from earlier reach her ears again.
In your heart, in your skin. In your soul. You feel me, Elisabeta.
I do, unable to tell if she actually thought or said it. The giddiness made her almost unsteady on her feet, like she was drunk. Drunk with pleasure. Or was it relief?
Mina...Elisabeta...goodness, she wasn't even sure what her true name was now. But whomever she was, she couldn't stand it anymore. She had to know if this was real.
Through half-shut eyes she could make out the face of the Prince, smiling softly at her. But as her vision cleared, she no longer saw the Prince. She saw the Count.
The Count. In her room at the hotel. Holding her face.
She gasped in horror, shoving his hands away and leaping backwards towards the wall, all at once frightened and modest and offended at his sudden infiltration.
She was only vaguely aware she was no longer holding the music box, and that its song had long ceased.
*****