Even when they finally flew over the humble little town of Trotsylvania, Fluttershy could hardly see it. The sun had set, and the moonlight reflected off the dense fog below with a soft blue glow. She couldn’t make out any streets, nor ponies or other creatures. All that betrayed the existence of this hidden place were the few buildings that poked out into the sky, hinting at the civilization below.
Trotsylvania was smaller than Ponyville, but not by much. It was a refuge for those cast out from society, a place they always knew they could call home, and over the years it had steadily grown as any community does. The only major difference was the massive stone wall that came into view as the carriage dipped down, wrapping around the town and giving its citizens some moderate sense of safety and privacy.
Before she could make out more of the town, though, her view was blocked by the one thing the fog could never hope to cover. Utterly massive, Dracula’s grand castle towered above the trees it hid amongst. The flapping wings of bats and owls and ponies flitted around the ramparts, standing in stark contrast to the moon behind them. The imposing patchwork of stone and wood dwarfed the other castles Fluttershy knew, though it was clear that hadn’t always been the case.
At first, the castle had been no larger than Twilight’s, a humble home for a cruel yet altogether normal stallion. As his lust for power grew, so too did his castle. He ordered the construction of buildings at the slightest whim, and those buildings came to be connected by a labyrinth of halls and courtyards and secret passages. Few ponies truly knew the depths of the castle, and fewer still dared to test that knowledge.
When the throne passed to his daughter, so too did the castle. She had no interest in the level of grandeur her father had insisted upon, and so the designs of the castle began to change. No longer did they raise massive towers as monuments to Dracula’s might, no more did the castle fill with wings made only to instill fear in those who knew of them. Instead, the outer reaches of the castle shifted to the practical.
She built libraries to fill with forbidden and elusive knowledge, armories to hide away those tools that once threatened her subjects. She listened to the needs of the creatures in her care, and did what she could to provide for them. Gardens grew herbs and remedies while also giving shelter to the more vegetative of her subjects, waterways were built for the aquatic. Deep, ever-shifting dungeons were dug out for those few who wished never to be known again, and the yet fewer who could not forego her father’s ways.
For thousands of years, the castle expanded in this way.
Now, as the carriage touched down in a patch of gravel that held several more carts and buggies, Fluttershy could hardly make out the shape of the original castle. It was there, strung up as it was by thin hallways and open walkways, but the rest of the building seemed intent on swallowing it up.
One of the pegasi who had been pulling the carriage helped Dracula down from the carriage, then held out a hoof to do the same for Fluttershy. She hesitated, not used to being treated as so important, but relented and held the mare’s hoof as she hopped out. The gravel crunched under her hooves as she landed, and she sank into it more than the felt she should have.
“Thank you,” she said politely to the mare, who simply nodded and left to put away the carriage.
“Come along,” Dracula commanded. She was already walking away, and Fluttershy had to scramble to catch up to her. “I won’t come help you if you get lost, so I recommend you watch where we’re going carefully.”
She led Fluttershy to a little door tucked away in a corner of the castle, barely noticeable until they were right next to it. Dracula had to duck down to go through it, and even Fluttershy felt like she might hit her head on the low frame.
Inside was dark and musty. The air was stale, the floorboards creaked, and the dim orange lights were so ineffective they almost made the room feel darker. One wall of the long, narrow room they were in was lined with beds, only a few of which had sheets and blankets, while the other side had storage, mirrors, cleaning supplies, and anything one might need where they live.
“These are the servants’ quarters,” Dracula said blandly as they walked along. “You won’t be staying here, but you’ll want to know where they are.”
“You have servants?” Fluttershy asked. She looked over the few occupied beds, spying little things the ponies used to make them their own. A lamp and a book here, a photo of a loved one there. Fluttershy felt a pang of loneliness from taking them in.
“Well, of course we have servants. Do you think this place cleans itself?”
“I guess not…” Fluttershy hesitated before saying more. “Couldn’t they have their own rooms, though?”
“Do you not see the empty beds?” They left the room and stepped out into a long, torchlit hallway. Only one wall had doors, while the other was lined with windows overlooking a courtyard filled with wildflowers. A few of the flowers were glowing brightly in the moonlight, and the fog that had snuck in spread that glow to light up the entire field.
“Some servants simply chose to remain there,” Dracula continued. “Perhaps for the familiarity, or the sense of family they shared. Or maybe they just didn’t want to sleep so far from where they work.”
“If there’s only a few in there, though,” Fluttershy asked, “why not make it nicer for them? You could at least give them more space.”
“They’re free to do as they please,” Dracula said. “It’s not my responsibility to make sure every pony or wolf or ghoul in this town is getting a good night’s sleep.”
“Hm…” Fluttershy decided not to press the subject any further.
They came to an intersection, and Dracula stopped. “That hall,” she said, pointing to the left, “leads to the infirmary. Straight across will bring you to the grand staircase, from which you can reach most of the castle. To the right, you’ll find a dead end.”
Having said this, she led Fluttershy towards the staircase. As they passed through the intersection, Fluttershy took a look down the right hallway to find that, just as Dracula said, it ended almost immediately and had no doors or windows to speak of.
Past the intersection, that wall once again held windows overlooking the courtyard. Fluttershy looked back and, as expected, saw a wall jut out from the side of the building before ending abruptly not even halfway to the other side.
“I’m not going to wait for you,” Dracula said, and Fluttershy realized she’d fallen quite a ways behind. She dashed back up to her, and caught up just as the hallway opened up into the massive foyer that served as the centerpiece for the original castle.
The room was gargantuan. The steeply-angled ceiling was easily five stories up from them, and the three inner walls were pockmarked with doors. There seemed to be no structure to the placement of the upper floors, no consistency between the heights the doors stood at, and as such the grand staircase, such as it was, became a disorganized, confusing maze after just the second floor. Walkways and balconies were placed seemingly at random, stretching between doors several floors apart or passing by doors they could have easily reached. Just looking up at it was dizzying.
The first two floors, at least, were more grounded. Two wide sets of stairs sat on either side of the room, and more doors could be seen tucked away behind them. The second floor was all level, all connected by a single ornate balcony, and the walls between each door were lined with books in stark contrast to the bare white walls above.
Dominating all of this, sitting in the middle of the room and stretching far past the second floor balcony, was a fountain. Carved intricately out of crude, gray stone, three massive gargoyles sat atop a wide column with a pool of red liquid at the bottom. Only one gargoyle, the one facing the door, had its mouth open, dropping an endless stream of red. To its left, a waterfall streamed as tears from the gargoyle’s eyes, and to its right, the final gargoyle held its chest open to provide its share.
From the way it made her mouth water, Fluttershy had no doubt as to what filled the pool.
“I think I’ll let you find out where all this goes on your own,” Dracula said. She lifted Fluttershy’s head up and away from the fountain as she walked past her. “Come, let’s go to the throne room.”
Fluttershy blinked and shook her head. “O-Of course,” she muttered, and did her best not to look at the fountain as they walked around it. Behind it stood a tall double door made of dark wood and held together with thick bars of metal. Each door was decorated with a silhouette of a vampire, cast in iron, standing vigilantly with crossed spears.
The doors swung open silently as Dracula approached, revealing the dark abyss within. It swallowed Dracula as she walked inside, and when Fluttershy followed with shaky steps the world disappeared around her when she crossed the threshold.
She turned around, but could no longer see the bright room they’d come from. Even if she strained her eyes, which normally could pierce the darkest nights, all she saw was inky black.
Then the doors slammed shut.
Fluttershy wheeled around, disoriented, and tried to listen for where Dracula was. She heard nothing. No footsteps, no breathing, not even a heartbeat. She could hear heartbeats outside perfectly well, but as far as she could tell, the room was empty.
“M-My Lady?” Fluttershy called out. Her voice cracked as she did. “Are you still there?”
“I can see in here, you know.” Dracula’s voice was distant and echoed around her. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. “How can you expect to defeat me if you can’t even see in the dark?”
“I don’t want to defeat you,” Fluttershy said. “I’m sure there’s a better way.”
“There isn’t. I will not give up this seat freely.”
“I don’t even want to be Dracula,” Fluttershy said. “What if I just go home?”
“You could certainly do that, but the title will be passed down. I’ve done all I can. Whether our future is one of harmony with the ponies of the day, or one of destruction by their doing, I intend to bring us into a new age.”
“But that’s not fair! You can’t lay that blame on me when you could just wait for somepony else.”
“How many lifetimes must I wait? How many generations must we watch from the shadows, forever unsure if this will be the one that decides to end us? No. The time for waiting has passed. Tomorrow must come.”
“But…” Fluttershy clenched her eyes shut. “But I can’t. I’m not a leader, I’m not like you. I could never handle being responsible for so many lives. It’s just… Too much.”
“Which is why you are here. I will harden you against the harshness of the world. I will be ruthless, and you will have to fight to keep the softness within you alive. Nopony else could withstand what I mean to thrust at you without losing themselves to it. This is why it must be you.”
Fluttershy looked down and covered her mouth. She was starting to feel sick, but not in fear of what Dracula might do. What sickened her was the fear that she was going to agree to it.
“How…” Fluttershy took a deep breath. “How sure are you that it has to be me?”
“That depends entirely on what you do from here.”
“I don’t understand,” Fluttershy said.
“You’re at a crossroads, Fluttershy. You have two roads ahead of you. On one, you go home. I accept that I was wrong, and begin my search for an heir anew. On the other, knowing full well what is to come, you agree to try. At that point, there will not be a doubt in my mind that you are the correct choice.”
Fluttershy rubbed one of her legs as she thought. “What if I fail?”
“You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
“Then I send you home and hope I did not cause lasting damage. That won’t happen, though. There will be no damage, because if you say yes, you will succeed.”
Fluttershy gave a conflicted hum. “Can I have some time to think?”
“No. You must decide now.”
Fluttershy tapped a hoof on the floor rapidly. “I don’t know… I just…”
“Now.”
Fluttershy swallowed hard and, before she could stop herself, said “I’ll do it.” Immediately she covered her mouth, both in shock and from the rising feeling of sickness, but she let the words linger in the air.
There was a long, quiet pause. The only sounds bouncing around the room were the noise of Fluttershy’s rapid, heavy breathing.
“Good. We’ll begin tomorrow.”
Fluttershy nodded slowly. Her legs were shaking. “So… Now what?”
“Now you find your room. There’s a plaque on the door with your cutie mark.”
“Where is it?” Fluttershy asked.
There was another long pause.
“I’m feeling generous. I suppose I can give you some direction.”
“I’d really appreciate it,” Fluttershy said.
“It’s not on the first floor.”
Suddenly there was a loud whoosh as a gust of air blew through the room. It blasted past Fluttershy, messing up her mane as it did, and started swirling some ways in front of her. Then, as quickly as it came, the wind disappeared, and once more the room was silent.
“Um… My Lady?”
Fluttershy’s voice echoed throughout the wide, empty room.
“C-Could you turn on the lights?”
Only silence answered her.
“Or at least… Open the door?”
Again, silence.