#and in any case arthur would always think him mad and awful and never forgive him for anything

[abrahamvanhelsings]

the hitch in van helsing's words when he says "i beseech you" im going to cry for real this time. it's not even simply that he knows how important it is that he gets arthur to trust him, that he's conscious of their duty to all living souls and lucy herself to do this to her and how difficult this will be physically and emotionally. it's that arthur now distrusts him, cries at him in anger - arthur, the man who looks like his lost son and whom he loves because of it. the man whose love and respect he may now never get back after suggesting mutilating lucy's corpse. he isn't just desperate for all the men in that room to trust him so they can give lucy peace and keep the living safe. that's the sacrifice of his father's heart splitting in two right there. wtf alan burgon.

[magicjesuscup]

How would the KoTR react to Gray from Lord El-Melloi Case Files(don’t answer if you haven’t heard or watched)

I got two of these, so I’m going to delete the other one. I'm also going to say this is after they learn about her past and not them reacting to how she looks. I'm doing it this way because there are so many saber faces I don't think they'd have much of a reaction to a girl who just looks like their king anymore.

I also want to note that I think Gray only ever referred to Waver as "Sir" in the subbed version, so I'll be sticking to that in my response.

Another thing to note: I wrote Arthur/Artoria, Lancer Artoria, and Mordred’s reactions a few days before everyone else’s. So, theirs are kinda in the form of mini fanfiction while the rest are headcanons.

SFW and spoilers for the Lord El-Melloi Case Files.

Arthur/Artoria

Oh. Oh god do they feel guilty about this. The whole reason Gray looked the way she did was because her village was trying to resurrect them!? This poor girl never had a life of her own because she was expected to live as someone else. (No, they don't see this as anything similar to what they experienced when they were alive. They chose to be king; Gray was born into this madness.) They fought so hard so people could live their lives; this isn't what they intended.

"I never would have imagined anyone would rob someone of their life to resurrect me. Forgive me."

Gray shook her head and stared at the ground. "It wasn't all bad. I was able to meet Sir, and because I had Add, I could protect him. And I met a lot of people through him too. Some were strange. Some were kind. But they're all important memories for me, and I wouldn't have them if my childhood had been different."

Hearing that made them feel better. If she wasn't sad over things, why should they be? Still, they were a bit worried about what would happen if her village ever caught up to her.

Lancer Artoria

Artoria looked at Gray with all the confidence and dignity befitting a king. "There are several versions of me running around Chaldea. You are not one of them. The things I left undone and have yet to do are my burden to bear, not yours."

Listening to that calm tone and noting her body language, Gray looked at the floor. She was so shy and timid. "I'm really not like you at all."

"No. You are a failed King Arthur." Artoria put her hand under Gray's chin and tiled her head upward. The look in Artoria's eyes was soft and there was a hint of a smile on her face, "But, you are an exemplary Gray." Artoria dropped her hand. "You need but tend to your own affairs, whatever they may be; I shall handle the rest."

"Pft." A voice under Gray's cloak spoke. "Once and future king my foot!" Gray moved her cloak aside revealing the mystic code, who continued, "Two world wars, Brexit, a handful of pandemics-"

"Rhongomyniad." Artoria's voice was full of authority and her tone carried a warning.

The mystic code fell silent. Gray looked in shock from Add to Artoria. Sheepishly she requested, "I know you'd like me to live for myself, but I'd really like to learn how you did that."

Artoria stifled a chuckle. "I'd be honored to teach you."

"H-Hey!" Add protested. "Don't I get a say in this!?"

Artoria's voice immediately slipped back into its normal deadpan. "No."

Bedivere

Good boy Bedivere is kind, but also acts like the butler she never asked for. She doesn't want to make him feel bad by declining his offers to help her, but it's very strange for her to have someone offering to do things for her. She's kinda used to being the one to run errands and do little tasks. So, instead of accepting his offers, she suggests they do the tasks together instead. They get along well. Bedivere is a people person and conversations come easy to him, which is good since that's not one of Gray's strong suits.

Gawain

Word gets to Gawain that Gray is somehow related to King Arthur. He's kind of excited by this because that means she's his kin too. He's very curious how they're related, but is fairly certain he'll never find out. Documents detailing her family tree either probably don't exist or have been long destroyed. He basically appoints himself her big brother. Of course, he realizes very quickly he can't be rough with her like he was with his brothers/sisters raised to be boys (no wrestling and what not). Luckily, he doesn't have much trouble adapting. He tries to be kind and gentle, but it kinda comes off as weird and creepy?

Gawain: If you ever need a hug, Big Brother Gawain is here. *holds out his arms for emphasis, like he's ready for a hug right now.*

Gray: Oh. Thank you. *is 100% not going to hug him, but appreciates the gesture.*

Lancelot

Okay, so Lancelot had has a body guard crush on Artoria, and this girl is not helping. Sure, he's used to seeing other girls that look like his king running around and acting differently but none of them are this cute(!?). Like, every time Gray's around, he pictures Artoria acting like Gray and then starts smiling like a doofus.

Gray: Sir Tristan, is Sir Lancelot alright? He's had that look on his face for five minutes and he doesn't seem to be aware of anything happening around him.

Tristan: Oh, that's just the face he makes when he's thinking about a pretty girl.

Gray: Are you sure?

Tristan: Yes, he does it a lot; you'll get used to it.

Merlin

Merlin is super torn. Gray is the type that gets flustered pretty easily. People like that are super fun for him to tease, but she also looks too much like Artoria. Every time he looks at her, he's reminded of raising the tiny king until she was five and then popping back in her life to train and advise her. Also, what if he says something lewd to her, she deems him a pervert, and then never speaks to him again!? That would be awful. For now, he'll just treat her the same way he does Saber Lily.

Mordred

Mordred put his hands on his hips. "I don't get why you're bothering with that hood. Do you have any idea how many people here look like father? Nero. Joan of Arc. Okita. Bitch, you ain't special." He noticed Gray turning away from him and decided to switch tactics a bit. "I look just like father too; you think I should hide my face?"

Gray stammered out a, "Well, no-"

"Damn straight I shouldn't." He jerked his thumb towards his face. "This mug is mine. I'm not hiding it anymore, and neither should you."

Gray thought about what Mordred said and slowly removed her hood.

Mordred grinned and slapped her hard on the back a few times. "Look who's balls dropped; good job, kid!"

Tristan

Gray follows Tristan around sometimes, but he doesn't mind. Gawain and Lancelot are acting like complete weirdos, so he's guessing she's just grateful to have found a knight that can act like a normal human being. He's also 100% wrong. Gray is fascinated by Tristan's ability to somehow see with his eyes shut. Her working theory is that he has mystic eyes that let him see through his eyelids and they take such a toll on him they cause him to randomly fall asleep throughout the day. She tags along with him waiting to see some evidence (her experiences with Waver have taught her to always look for proof). Also, Gawain and Lancelot know this, but they're not telling him. Can you blame them? He called them weirdos; they're going to enjoy watching him be wrong!

[pureempress]

Rhaegar and Lyanna fanfic by PureEmpress Rhaegar was said to love his lady Lyanna Stark, but that was not always the case, there was a time before when the two had never set eyes on each other. This all changed during the tourney of Harrenhal, but it was more to it than just Rhaegar seeing the impeccable beauty of Lady Lyanna and falling in love. Oh no, the two were more in love than any of Westeros could imagine, but this would be their downfall and the beginning of a start to a new future. It was the start of the tourney when Lyanna spotted her fathers bannermen getting picked on, this angered the she wolf for the Stark’s believed in morality and kindness, as well as justice. Being the warden of the North, Lyanna had learned a lot from watching her father teach her brothers how to rule over their lands and be Lord’s, her own lord father had taught all of the Stark children the old way, and kept the memory of the First Men alive in them. This was the way of the Starks, the way it would always be. Lyanna had gone around in secretive search for full armor and hatched out a plan to help protect her fathers bannermen from the cruel words of the hedge knight’s. Right before that round had started, Lyanna slipped off from her brothers side to dawn the armor breast plate of a laughing tree, she wore dark cloak so that no colors would give away which house she belonged to. Lyanna was a skilled rider, and often times than not she picked up a sword against her fathers wishes though she was always reigned in before she could get truly into the play, so in case things had not gone as she planned and it would be her that was to be unhorsed no one would ever know it was actually Lady Lyanna under that armor. She wasn’t in this round for the glory or any gold, she was not in it for any titles or gifts, just for the sheer fact alone it was to upstage the men who bullied her fathers bannermen. The horns were blown and the round had begun, it didn’t take long for the horses to take off dust and dirt being kicked up from under their hoofs as they ran quickly at one another. As soon as it had begun it seemed it was over with and the man who once tried to be so bold and proud while pushing around her father’s man, was now laying on the ground. The crowd could not see her face but if they could have, they would have seen the biggest and brightest smile on Lyanna’s face as she glanced back over her shoulder turning her horse back around to the starting line once more as she worked her way up the ladder of names and lords she had to beat. Lyanna had not realized this, but as she rode hard and fiercely knocking down men left and right just to get to the ones that had words with her father’s bannermen, the king and his son had begun to notice her and how good she was on top of that horse. The only one to know, would be her brother in the end, or so she would think. The same way the Knight of the Laughing Tree had appeared, she had disappeared, riding away from the crowd of applause to take off the armor and return to her brother’s and father’s side. Only as she was riding, her brother Ned had been watching as she rode he could tell under all that armor was his sister so as he watched her slip away he followed to see if he was right. Unbeknownst to the two of them, this had caught Rhaegar’s eye and he to had slipped away from the crowd to follow and see who this knight was and offer him a position in the Kings Guard. “A man like that aught to be fighting for his king, don’t you think Ser Dayne?” the prince was met with the reply of any friend and loyal soldier would, only Rhaegar and Arthur had a friendship between the two and a fierce loyalty to his Prince from Ser Dayne. “Could be that this man does not see himself loyal to the mad king?” That statement alone, made both men glance at each other unsurely, if Rhaegar could get more men like the laughing tree knight rallied to his side he could overthrow his father and take the throne by force causing the mad king Aaerys to step down for his son. It was something that Rhaegar had planned to do some time after the tourney at Harrenhal had ended, but it was something that would take time. The love for his people was so strong, he would and could not sit aside idly while his father grew madder each passing day. Aaerys was growing crueler and ordering for fire executions left and right, the people were growing weary of the old king and wanted to see Rhaegar on the throne. With his fathers unpredictability though, Rhaegar had to be cautious in the way he planned this or he to would end up under the flames. Fire can not kill a dragon. The scene in which Rhaegar approached was not one he had anticipated, but the entire notion amused him, but also inspired him. He stayed back and out of sight as he watched and seen for the first time the she-wolf; he had seen her in passing a few times but his eye had never strayed from his wife Elia. Only now had he gotten to see the true beauty and passion beneath the surface of the lady Lyanna Stark, he had to know more about her. As he watched the exchange between Lyanna and Ned, he could hear her scream in protest but he had not heard much volume out of her brother Ned. “Lyanna, you could have been knocked off your horse, hurt and father could have been the laughing stock of Westeros. What were you thinking? If father would have found out…” Lyanna tossed the laughing tree armor breastplate to the ground with a thud as she snapped back at her brother. “I am a better rider than most of those lords out there, I knew what I was doing. Besides, those men were harassing our fathers people, that is not the Stark way and if you are okay with letting those men get away with any type of justice done, then you are not the brother I thought you to be! Just because they are not as highborn does not give anyone the right to…” As Lyanna ranted, Ned sighed shook his head and placed his hand on his sisters forearm to calm her down. “You are right, they deserved to be taught a lesson… I just wish you would have asked me or even Robert to.” Lyanna rolled her eyes and pulled her arm back away from her brother’s touch, and she hated when Robert Baratheon’s name was thrown at her as if he was her savior of sorts. “Why? When I could just as easily have done it myself, and did.” Ned frowned and Lyanna was the one to sigh now, shaking her long flowing dark head of hair. “I know you and father wish for me to take a liking to your storm lord Robert Baratheon, but you can not see what I can already. Robert is kind, and he loves me but… He will grow tired of me and find himself in another’s arms.” Lyanna was not stupid, Robert was a fine young man and many women fell for the charm and looks and many women had bastards even in his young age now, she knew that a man like that would not be happy long in a marriage to one woman. He was as wild as she was, she liked to think, two free spirits unhappy with the thought of settling down. Ned knew better than to argue with his sister when she was like this, so instead he left her alone with these parting words soft as a whisper. “You will learn to be happy.” He turned and walked away leaving his sister to finish taking off her armor piece by piece and slamming it into the dirt angrily, why couldn’t her family just understand she didn’t want to marry Robert? Once Rhaegar seen that there would be no more interruptions he made his way forward to the Lady Lyanna. “So, this is who was under that ridiculous tree armor.” His violet eyes seemed to be smiling down at her as he approached and she turned around quickly. Her blue grey eyes widening once she realized who she was in the presence of and bowed low out of respect. “Forgive me your grace, I only did it…” Rhaegar lifted his hand and shook his head, leaning forward he took her hands into his and helped her stand tall as she was before. “No need to explain, you see I should be the one to apologize I seemed to have ease dropped on you and your brother’s conversation.” Lyanna blushed a deep red against her milky white flesh, “Oh, you heard all of that?” Rhaegar smiled shrugged his shoulders and helped with the remainder of armor she was still suited up in and to her surprise she had let. Her eyes followed the movements of his long slender fingers, swift and accurate; a musician’s hands not a fighter. “I must say, Lady Lyanna that I agree with you on one thing.” Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to the side as she doubtefly asked “And what’s that exactly your grace?” He smiled and stood perfectly straight as he tossed the last of the armor in the pile with the black cloak, “That you are just as good as any of those men I seen riding today.” The compliment alone made her swell up with pride, but even moreso now that it was coming from the Prince himself. “Thank you, your grace.” - “Please, call me Rhaegar.” The two had spent the rest of that evening together, well on through into the dark hours of the night laughing talking singing as if the two had known each other forever. Ser Arthur Dayne had saught out his Prince and found the two together drinking and laughing and it was there that Rhaegar had revealed to his friend Ser Dayne that the one they saught out recruitment for was none other than Lady Lyanna Stark. The three of them had a good laugh about that and a few drinks to go with it, by the end of the night Ser Dayne was nodding off as Rhaegar and Lyanna whispered by the moonlight. “So why do you not wish to marry my cousin? It would be a good match for you do you not think?” Lyanna was forced to be honest about her feelings with the prince in that moment and it sobered her up a bit. “It would be a great match, but awful marriage.” - “How so?” Lyanna looked into Rhaegar’s soft violet eyes and felt comfortable there; safe. “Robert will not be content on just loving me, he likes the attention from the women. Do you think that will stop once he is married? Does that stop other women from trying to win your heart your grace?” Rhaegar laughed and shook his head, “No I suppose not.” - “Robert enjoys that attention and once it is taken away he will not be happy with the musings of one woman the rest of his life.” The two spoke well into the morning hours and once Lyanna noticed that she stood in a panic, “I must return to my father’s camp at once. If anyone sees that I have not been in my bed all night they will send the soldiers out searching for me and I am sure princess Elia would not appreciate to hear her husband spent the night with the she wolf.” She bowed to Rhaegar and as she bent, a lock of dark hair loosened from behind her ear and fell into her face above her eye, with a puff of her own breath she blew the strand off and out the way as she smiled and started to turn. “Thank you for the lovely evening your grace.” Without another word, she left Rhaegar’s quarters and returned to her own bed where she found her brother Ned. “Lyanna where were you, I was worried!?” - “I was with the prince, Rhaegar.” - “Are you mad!? Father would have been furious.” - “Thankfully father does not know.” She kissed her brothers cheek and whispered “nor does he need to. I promise, the prince is kind. We talked and laughed all night.” - “Fine, if you say so.” That day at the tourney, Lyanna had not realized everything had changed, her night spent with Rhaegar turned from admiration to desire and pride for him. Normally the Prince would do all he could to protect his wife Elia and keep her from shame but the night before had clouded his judgment along with the best Dornish wine in Westeros. So when it came time to name the Queen of love and beauty and place the crown of blue flowers on her head, instead of making the choice he should have in his still slightly hazy mind he made the choice of his heart. He rode past his wife Elia Martell, and as he looked around he could see the smiles falling off of the faces of the Ladies and Lords, realizing what he had done he knew it was too late to turn to his wife and he dared not look that Dornish beauty in the eye. Instead, he kept his horse in stride to where Lyanna Stark was seated beside her brothers and father, he then placed the flowered crown on the lap of the Northern beauty and the crowd went silent. He couldn’t bear to look his wife or father in the eyes, nor could he ride off after that so he started the tourney. Not long after the games began for the day, the crowd began to cheer and shout for whoever they were routing for. Lyanna kept her eyes on the fighting games below and never once looked at the Prince, he never took his eyes off of her and Elia had both of them in her sight since neither would look at her, though she noticed her husband was more interested than Lyanna was; even with the few stolen glances she caught from the girl. She could not stand to watch her husband pawning after another so young and so she stood, stating to her court of ladies that she was feeling ill and would retire from the games, but everyone knew the real reason why. Her heart was crushed and she did not wish to display it to the entire world, it was bad enough her own husband shamed her, she refused to help him do so more by making a spectacle of herself in front of Westeros. Once the princess Elia had left there presence, the tension in the air seemed to die down and the whispers had slowed drastically, or perhaps that was just Lyanna blocking out everything. She stood from her seat and whispered to Ned that she was going to water, it was a lie but one that she knew her father would not be able to deny his child. He hadn’t even tried to stop her though, Robert was off to the side, watching his betrothed and eyeing his Targaryen cousin down hard. Once their rounds were played Rhaegar slipped away to meet with his Queen of love and beauty, when he found her on the grounds of Harrenhal he called out to her. “Lyanna, wait.” She turned to see the silver haired prince running up to her, instead of gracing him with a smile or anything tender of the sorts she pulled back her hand and smacked him across the face with a smack. “How could you?” Rhaegar rubbed his chin and shook his head, replying back sarcastically, “Thank you, your grace for crowning…” Lyanna shouted at her prince now, had anyone been around they would have expected her to be punished for striking a prince but they were alone and he couldn’t blame her for being angry with him. “Thank you?! Is that what you expect me to say after that? Rhaegar, your grace… Your wife she should have been crowned, not me! I am betrothed to Robert Baratheon, your very own cousin!” For some odd reason, Rhaegar felt he could be as honest with her as he was with his trusted friend Arthur Dayne. “I realize I made a mistake, Lyanna! Seven hells I knew the moment I did it! Do you think me to be daft?!” He looked at her and sighed shaking his head as he explained he had not known what was racing through his mind at the time. “I know it was wrong, Gods my sweet beautiful wife, Elia she did not deserve that. I will soothe things over with my wife and explain to her my reasoning as I am doing so with you now.” Rhaegar turned towards Lyanna and took her hands into his, looking down into her pale grey blue eyes he spoke truthfully. “Lyanna it should be you and I seen that with mine own two eyes. You are the knight of the laughing tree, you fought to defend the honor of your fathers people. You care for the people as I care, I see your inner beauty Lyanna Stark. It shines bright almost too bright and not bright enough.” He was speaking in riddles now she thought, as she felt a pull to him from her soul as she gazed into his beautiful violet eyes. “Rhaegar, I… I do not know what to say.” - “You don’t have to say anything.” When Rhaegar finally made his way back to the chambers Lord Whent had provided him and his Lady wife, Elia was up and waiting for him, had been so since the night before. She allowed for him to enter the room fully and even poor himself a glass of Dornish wine, before she started to question him about Lyanna Stark. “She is but a girl! Do you love her Rhaegar?” Her dark eyes were full of hurt and her cheeks glistened with streaks of tears, when he seen that his glass was placed on the table and he walked over to her and grasped her chin between his finger and thumb. “My sweet wife, I know I have shamed you but I promise it was not meant as a slight. I spent the night with the Stark girl laughing and talking, even a little drinking and I got to see the beauty she holds inside. It was her who fought for the honor of the Connogman. I had followed the laughing knight to recruit him, but when I got to the unarmed so called Knight, it was her.” Elia wanted so desperately to believe in her husband but she had seen the looks that was given to the girl and she was a woman she knew what those looks meant. “You deny that you desire her!?” The princess narrowed her eyes at her husband, waiting for him to lie to her so she could snap back at him with the fierceness she had inside of her to match the snake on her house sigil. Elia did not care about Rhaegar’s fascination, women fought like men in Dorne all the time. Their people did not believe in discrimination against women wearing the crown or mail, so it was not so far from to what she was accustomed to seeing like it was for him she assumed. Rhaegar shook his head as he lifted the brim of his glass to his lips to drink deeply before he answered, he could feel the anger rolling off of his beloved wife. “No, I do not deny it… I would have to be a blind man not to desire a beauty like hers, but I love you and she has only my friendship.” Elia rolled her eyes and turned her head to not look at him any longer as she murmered loud enough so that he could hear. “For now.” Rhaegar knew that he would find no comfort in his wife’s arms any time soon, so he decided he would give her a little space picking up the wine glass and his harp to be among the people. Ser Arthur Dayne fell in behind him once he opened the chamber doors and stepped out. “I see my prince has a need to be with his people, letting them hear his songs!” There was rejoice in Ser Dayne’s voice as he patted his friends back and fell into stride with the Targaryen prince’s step, as they reached the steps outside and the people noticed their Prince with his harp they began to smile and give him attention. Forming a circle around Rhaegar as he sat upon the stone base of the castle, on one of the steps as he began to strum at the strings lightly making beautiful music. The crowd had gotten so big so quickly that it reached all the way to her fathers camp sight on the land, Rhaegar was playing a tune for his people they said. She watched as the crowds of people stopped what they were doing to follow the sounds and other people to crowd around the prince. The entirety of Westeros was all at his feet as he strummed along those strings making them sing so sweetly to their ears, as the prince looked up with his violet eyes he scanned the crowd of people noticing how large it was growing. He had played a total of 6 songs before he spotted Lyanna in the crowd of people listening to him play, she had a smile on her lips as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in his melody. He couldnt help but play for her now, seven hells his wife was right he realized in that moment and felt sad for her, for there was a prophecy foretold; a dragon must have three heads. The words ran through his mind as he played, his music starting to turn melancholy instead of the upbeat goodvibe stuff he had been playing before. Lyanna frowned as she noticed, and started to make her way closer to him in the crowd which wasn’t very hard, once people started to notice the crowned beauty hovering closer they moved right to the side for her as if she would have been an actual Queen. He knew this wouldnt be good for him if his wife had over heard the treatment the Stark girl was getting from the people, it would hurt her more. His music got sadder, Lyanna paused and bit her bottom lip, all while Rhaegar watched her falling more for her by the second as she made her way through the crowd. He continued to play his ballad until the very end, and once it was done he stood and made his way to meet Lyanna in the crowd. Smiling sadly down at her, he whispered in her ear careful not to touch her though. “Let us go somewhere we can speak privately without so many eyes.” Lyanna looked around and instantly her cheeks turned red and she began to feel her body heat rise as she nodded, heart pounding in her chest as she followed beside the prince. “You seemed very sad just then.” She spoke trying to avoid the gazes of the people around her, some of the women envied her giving her even harsher looks than she had ever recieved once it was said she was betrothed to Robert Baratheon. Even more women wished they could be her, it was all too much attention on them, it was starting to get to her head. “I did?” He replied in a sarcastic surprised tone as he grinned at her and winked at his friend Arthur. “Just something a wise woman told me not long ago. It made me realize that not everything lasts, but not everything that ends is ugly it could be the start of something even more beautiful.” Lyanna nodded as she walked alongside of him, “I think that in return makes you a very wise man.” He laughed and his eyes almost seemed to glisten and mimick that laughter in themselves, “I suppose that is so. What will you do when you go back to Winterfell?” Now she was sad as she thought about returning home to the cold white winter world she lived in shrugging her shoulders as she meekly replied. “I am not sure. Perhaps I’ll continue riding and get even better.” - “Impossible.” The kind prince smiled down at his lady Lyanna and as she looked back up into his eyes, they had gone far away from anyone now it was just the three of them. Rhaegar, Lyanna, and Ser Dayne he was checking to make sure there was no one lurking nearby to allow a little privacy. Rhaegar reached up to grab her chin gently between his thumb and finger, lifting her face up slightly in the perfect position to give her a kiss but he did not. “Promise me that you will write to me, my queen of love and beauty? Write every day and tell me how your life goes, tell me your thoughts and I shall make them into songs for my people… and you.” Lyanna nodded with her breath caught in her throat whispering her own promises “promise me you will reply?” - “Always.” There was a loud gutteral war cry let out at that very moment, bringing all attentions to the one who had made it by all three stragglers. “RHAEGAR!” Ser Dayne rushed to defend the prince warning Robert to stand down as he rushed his cousin. Lyanna and Rhaegar looked at Robert with surprised looks as she pleaded with her prince to not fight him no matter how much he provoked. She knew that Robert loved to fight and would try to use her as an excuse to do so with the prince. “Tell your guard to stand down and face me like a man, Rhaegar!” Robert demanded as Lyanna grew angry with him and shouted back at her betrothed for the prince, amused Rhaegar placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder to hold him off shaking his head in compliance with his lady. “Robert! You are drunk aren’t you, you smell of it from here!” Her betrothed’s eyes were black to match his black thick hair, and his gaze turned cold a moment as he looked at Lyanna with disgust. “Why are you with him out here all alone?” Lyanna frowned and placed her hands on her hips as she looked at Arthur and Rhaegar then shook her head. “I am not out here alone, I am with my prince AND his kingsguard. I am out here because too many people would assume, just as you are now!” He wanted to argue back with her but knew she was right but only about that, he knew that Rhaegar desired his betrothed just as much as Elia did he could smell it on him. He looked past Lyanna to his cousin Rhaegar, giving him his one and only warning. “Family or not, I will kill you for her, I swear it by the gods. Old new all the fucking gods around that could hear me, if you hurt her I will kill you.” Lyanna pushed him back with all her might and yelled at him to leave, “That is enough, Robert Baratheon. He is your Prince and you are drunk.” Turning towards Rhaegar she bowed and apologized for Robert’s behavior as she made him leave the prince’s presence so he wouldn’t get himself killed by the mad king. Robert glared his cousin down and smirked as he seen it as he was taking his future wife away from the claws of the beast, but in Lyanna’s mind this all confirmed what she had told her brother Ned. She did not wish to marry Lord Robert Baratheon, he could be sweet enough and he was a good looking man but she wanted more than a drunken fool with ten thousand bastards running around she wanted passion and love. The fortnight everyone that had attended the tourney was on their way back to their home lands, Lyanna hadn’t seen the prince since the day she had forced Robert back to the halls of Harrenhal with her. They had feasted, and said their goodbyes while their belongings were being packed up for the long rides home. She longed to see the Prince but knew that her lord father would not make any exceptions for her to stay behind a little longer. She hugged her brother Ned goodbye, and was given a tender kiss of affection from Robert and then they all returned home in three days time there was a Raven that had come from her prince. My Lady Lyanna Queen of Love and Beauty, I write to you with heavy heart and pen. For while we were at Lord Whent’s tourney, I was not completely honest with you. When you asked about my saddness, I pretended to not know what you meant, but I knew all very clear why I was sad. You see, my Lady you have captured me and now I may love you as I love my wife. It made me sad for her, but happy for us and our beginning. I know you wish not to wed Robert, my cousin is a storm of a man it pains me to think of you caught up in that storm, but if you was to tell me you did love him I would tuck my feelings for you deep in my heart and carry you in my songs. I long to hear that sweet voice of yours once again and smell that winter wind perfumed skin. Rhaegar… She had taken her letter up to her room to start composing one back right away while his letter was still fresh in her mind. Picking up the pen she began, My prince Rhaegar, you both honor and flatter me with your words. I thank you now for your honesty now, that is a noble and gallant thing to be sad for, your wife is a blessed woman indeed. You are right I do not wish to marry the stormlord, what a fitting title indeed it is now so even more after reading your letter. Perhaps one day I will ride to you as swiftly as the day I rode as the laughing tree Knight. Until then I will remember you singing to all of Westeros in my dreams. Lyanna" Several days later another letter arrived with the Targaryen seal, she had begged the maester to tend to the birds so she would be the first to see the letters and the only one to see her ravens. My Northern Queen, I am glad that you think of my wife in such a high place. If you do not wish to marry the stormlord, then do not. Travel the world, fill your head with the wonders of the world. Go beyond the wall and then all the way beyond Dorne. Live for yourself, do not live for your father or your king and if you find yourself still wanting to ride to me, then ride south where you will find me waiting with open arms and heart. Rhaegar" There letters continued on in secret for months, they wrote back and forth to each other faithfully learning more and more about each other, the more they wrote each other the more they fell in love, and the more they had these strong feelings the stronger their desire to come together was. Rhaegar knew it would be hectic trying to bring a second wife into the picture the same time he was trying to take the reigns of his throne, and that he shouldn’t bring Lyanna into all that political mess especially with his father and his mental stability failing daily but he honestly hadn’t thought all that through all he knew was that he couldn’t wait to be by Lyanna’s side. What was important to him was the sooner he could be with Lyanna the sooner the prophecy could unwravel, so some time after a few letters back and forth they made plans to meet with each other and ride off into the night under the stars. They would be wed and she would be brought into the court as his second wife, his father would crown him King and Elia Queen but he would love them both equally. It was the Targaryen way, many kings before him had done so with many wives but ruling by the first ones side. To be continued…

[readbookywooks]

MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL

23 September. - Jonathan is better after a bad night. I am so glad that he has plenty of work to do, for that keeps his mind off the terrible things, and oh, I am rejoiced that he is not now weighed down with the responsibility of his new position. I knew he would be true to himself, and now how proud I am to see my Jonathan rising to the height of his advancement and keeping pace in all ways with the duties that come upon him. He will be away all day till late, for he said he could not lunch at home. My household work is done, so I shall take his foreign journal, and lock myself up in my room and read it. 24 September. - I hadn't the heart to write last night, that terrible record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have suffered, whether it be true or only imagination. I wonder if there is any truth in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write all those terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose I shall never know, for I dare not open the subject to him. And yet that man we saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him, poor fellow! I suppose it was the funeral upset him and sent his mind back on some train of thought. He believes it all himself. I remember how on our wedding day he said "Unless some solemn duty come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, mad or sane. . ." There seems to be through it all some thread of continuity. That fearful Count was coming to London. If it should be, and he came to London, with its teeming millions. . .There may be a solemn duty, and if it come we must not shrink from it. I shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter this very hour and begin transcribing. Then we shall be ready for other eyes if required. And if it be wanted, then, perhaps, if I am ready, poor Jonathan may not be upset, for I can speak for him and never let him be troubled or worried with it at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets over the nervousness he may want to tell me of it all, and I can ask him questions and find out things, and see how I may comfort him. LETTER, VAN HELSING TO MRS. HARKER 24 September (Confidence) "Dear Madam, "I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend as that I sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra's death. By the kindness of Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read her letters and papers, for I am deeply concerned about certain matters vitally important. In them I find some letters from you, which show how great friends you were and how you love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that love, I implore you, help me. It is for others' good that I ask, to redress great wrong, and to lift much and terrible troubles, that may be more great than you can know. May it be that I see you? You can trust me. I am friend of Dr. John Seward and of Lord Godalming (that was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private for the present from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if you tell me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your pardon, Madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good you are and how your husband suffer. So I pray you, if it may be, enlighten him not, least it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive me. "VAN HELSING" TELEGRAM, MRS. HARKER TO VAN HELSING 25 September. - Come today by quarter past ten train if you can catch it. Can see you any time you call. "WILHELMINA HARKER" MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL 25 September. - I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time draws near for the visit of Dr. Van Helsing, for somehow I expect that it will throw some light upon Jonathan's sad experience, and as he attended poor dear Lucy in her last illness, he can tell me all about her. That is the reason of his coming. It is concerning Lucy and her sleep-walking, and not about Jonathan. Then I shall never know the real truth now! How silly I am. That awful journal gets hold of my imagination and tinges everything with something of its own color. Of course it is about Lucy. That habit came back to the poor dear, and that awful night on the cliff must have made her ill. I had almost forgotten in my own affairs how ill she was afterwards. She must have told him of her sleep-walking adventure on the cliff, and that I knew all about it, and now he wants me to tell him what I know, so that he may understand. I hope I did right in not saying anything of it to Mrs. Westenra. I should never forgive myself if any act of mine, were it even a negative one, brought harm on poor dear Lucy. I hope too, Dr. Van Helsing will not blame me. I have had so much trouble and anxiety of late that I feel I cannot bear more just at present. I suppose a cry does us all good at times, clears the air as other rain does. Perhaps it was reading the journal yesterday that upset me, and then Jonathan went away this morning to stay away from me a whole day and night, the first time we have been parted since our marriage. I do hope the dear fellow will take care of himself, and that nothing will occur to upset him. It is two o'clock, and the doctor will be here soon now. I shall say nothing of Jonathan's journal unless he asks me. I am so glad I have typewritten out my own journal, so that, in case he asks about Lucy, I can hand it to him. It will save much questioning. Later. - He has come and gone. Oh, what a strange meeting, and how it all makes my head whirl round. I feel like one in a dream. Can it be all possible, or even a part of it? If I had not read Jonathan's journal first, I should never have accepted even a possibility. Poor, poor, dear Jonathan! How he must have suffered. Please the good God, all this may not upset him again. I shall try to save him from it. But it may be even a consolation and a help to him, terrible though it be and awful in its consequences, to know for certain that his eyes and ears and brain did not deceive him, and that it is all true. It may be that it is the doubt which haunts him, that when the doubt is removed, no matter which, waking or dreaming, may prove the truth, he will be more satisfied and better able to bear the shock. Dr. Van Helsing must be a good man as well as a clever one if he is Arthur's friend and Dr. Seward's, and if they brought him all the way from Holland to look after Lucy. I feel from having seen him that he is good and kind and of a noble nature. When he comes tomorrow I shall ask him about Jonathan. And then, please God, all this sorrow and anxiety may lead to a good end. I used to think I would like to practice interviewing. Jonathan's friend on "The Exeter News" told him that memory is everything in such work, that you must be able to put down exactly almost every word spoken, even if you had to refine some of it afterwards. Here was a rare interview. I shall try to record it verbatim. It was half-past two o'clock when the knock came. I took my courage a deux mains and waited. In a few minutes Mary opened the door, and announced "Dr. Van Helsing". I rose and bowed, and he came towards me, a man of medium weight, strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The poise of the head strikes me at once as indicative of thought and power. The head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the ears. The face, clean-shaven, shows a hard, square chin, a large resolute, mobile mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with quick, sensitive nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big bushy brows come down and the mouth tightens. The forehead is broad and fine, rising at first almost straight and then sloping back above two bumps or ridges wide apart, such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot possibly tumble over it, but falls naturally back and to the sides. Big, dark blue eyes are set widely apart, and are quick and tender or stern with the man's moods. He said to me, "Mrs. Harker, is it not?" I bowed assent. "That was Miss Mina Murray?" Again I assented. "It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of that poor dear child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account of the dead that I come." "Sir," I said, "you could have no better claim on me than that you were a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra."And I held out my hand. He took it and said tenderly, "Oh, Madam Mina, I know that the friend of that poor little girl must be good, but I had yet to learn. . ." He finished his speech with a courtly bow. I asked him what it was that he wanted to see me about, so he at once began. "I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but I had to begin to inquire somewhere, and there was none to ask. I know that you were with her at Whitby. She sometimes kept a diary, you need not look surprised, Madam Mina. It was begun after you had left, and was an imitation of you, and in that diary she traces by inference certain things to a sleep-walking in which she puts down that you saved her. In great perplexity then I come to you, and ask you out of your so much kindness to tell me all of it that you can remember." "I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it." "Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details? It is not always so with young ladies." "No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can show it to you if you like." "Oh, Madam Mina, I well be grateful. You will do me much favor." I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit, I suppose it is some taste of the original apple that remains still in our mouths, so I handed him the shorthand diary. He took it with a grateful bow, and said, "May I read it?" "If you wish," I answered as demurely as I could. He opened it, and for an instant his face fell. Then he stood up and bowed. "Oh, you so clever woman!" he said. "I knew long that Mr. Jonathan was a man of much thankfulness, but see, his wife have all the good things. And will you not so much honor me and so help me as to read it for me? Alas! I know not the shorthand." By this time my little joke was over, and I was almost ashamed. So I took the typewritten copy from my work basket and handed it to him. "Forgive me," I said. "I could not help it, but I had been thinking that it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so that you might not have time to wait, not on my account, but because I know your time must be precious, I have written it out on the typewriter for you." He took it and his eyes glistened. "You are so good," he said. "And may I read it now? I may want to ask you some things when I have read." "By all means," I said. "read it over whilst I order lunch, and then you can ask me questions whilst we eat." He bowed and settled himself in a chair with his back to the light, and became so absorbed in the papers, whilst I went to see after lunch chiefly in order that he might not be disturbed. When I came back, I found him walking hurriedly up and down the room, his face all ablaze with excitement. He rushed up to me and took me by both hands. "Oh, Madam Mina," he said, "how can I say what I owe to you? This paper is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am dazed, I am dazzled, with so much light, and yet clouds roll in behind the light every time. But that you do not, cannot comprehend. Oh, but I am grateful to you, you so clever woman. Madame," he said this very solemnly, "if ever Abraham Van Helsing can do anything for you or yours, I trust you will let me know. It will be pleasure and delight if I may serve you as a friend, as a friend, but all I have ever learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you and those you love. There are darknesses in life, and there are lights. You are one of the lights. You will have a happy life and a good life, and your husband will be blessed in you." "But, doctor, you praise me too much, and you do not know me." "Not know you, I, who am old, and who have studied all my life men and women, I who have made my specialty the brain and all that belongs to him and all that follow from him! And I have read your diary that you have so goodly written for me, and which breathes out truth in every line. I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor Lucy of your marriage and your trust, not know you! Oh, Madam Mina, good women tell all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that angels can read. And we men who wish to know have in us something of angels' eyes. Your husband is noble nature, and you are noble too, for you trust, and trust cannot be where there is mean nature. And your husband, tell me of him. Is he quite well? Is all that fever gone, and is he strong and hearty?" I saw here an opening to ask him about Jonathan, so I said, "He was almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset by Mr. Hawkins death." He interrupted, "Oh, yes. I know. I know. I have read your last two letters." I went on, "I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on Thursday last he had a sort of shock." "A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That is not good. What kind of shock was it?" "He thought he saw some one who recalled something terrible, something which led to his brain fever." And here the whole thing seemed to overwhelm me in a rush. The pity for Jonathan, the horror which he experienced, the whole fearful mystery of his diary, and the fear that has been brooding over me ever since, all came in a tumult. I suppose I was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and held up my hands to him, and implored him to make my husband well again. He took my hands and raised me up, and made me sit on the sofa, and sat by me. He held my hand in his, and said to me with, oh, such infinite sweetness, "My life is a barren and lonely one, and so full of work that I have not had much time for friendships, but since I have been summoned to here by my friend John Seward I have known so many good people and seen such nobility that I feel more than ever, and it has grown with my advancing years, the loneliness of my life. Believe me, then, that I come here full of respect for you, and you have given me hope, hope, not in what I am seeking of, but that there are good women still left to make life happy, good women, whose lives and whose truths may make good lesson for the children that are to be. I am glad, glad, that I may here be of some use to you. For if your husband suffer, he suffer within the range of my study and experience. I promise you that I will gladly do all for him that I can, all to make his life strong and manly, and your life a happy one. Now you must eat. You are overwrought and perhaps over-anxious. Husband Jonathan would not like to see you so pale, and what he like not where he love, is not to his good. Therefore for his sake you must eat and smile. You have told me about Lucy, and so now we shall not speak of it, lest it distress. I shall stay in Exeter tonight, for I want to think much over what you have told me, and when I have thought I will ask you questions, if I may. And then too, you will tell me of husband Jonathan's trouble so far as you can, but not yet. You must eat now, afterwards you shall tell me all." After lunch, when we went back to the drawing room, he said to me, "And now tell me all about him." When it came to speaking to this great learned man, I began to fear that he would think me a weak fool, and Jonathan a madman, that journal is all so strange, and I hesitated to go on. But he was so sweet and kind, and he had promised to help, and I trusted him, so I said, "Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that you must not laugh at me or at my husband. I have been since yesterday in a sort of fever of doubt. You must be kind to me, and not think me foolish that I have even half believed some very strange things." He reassured me by his manner as well as his words when he said, "Oh, my dear, if you only know how strange is the matter regarding which I am here, it is you who would laugh. I have learned not to think little of any one's belief, no matter how strange it may be. I have tried to keep an open mind, and it is not the ordinary things of life that could close it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, the things that make one doubt if they be mad or sane." "Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You have taken a weight off my mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is long, but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and Jonathan's. It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that happened. I dare not say anything of it. You will read for yourself and judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind and tell me what you think." "I promise," he said as I gave him the papers. "I shall in the morning, as soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I may." "Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven, and you must come to lunch with us and see him then. You could catch the quick 3:34 train, which will leave you at Paddington before eight." He was surprised at my knowledge of the trains offhand, but he does not know that I have made up all the trains to and from Exeter, so that I may help Jonathan in case he is in a hurry. So he took the papers with him and went away, and I sit here thinking, thinking I don't know what. LETTER (by hand), VAN HELSING TO MRS. HARKER 25 September, 6 o'clock "Dear Madam Mina, "I have read your husband's so wonderful diary. You may sleep without doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is true! I will pledge my life on it. It may be worse for others, but for him and you there is no dread. He is a noble fellow, and let me tell you from experience of men, that one who would do as he did in going down that wall and to that room, aye, and going a second time, is not one to be injured in permanence by a shock. His brain and his heart are all right, this I swear, before I have even seen him, so be at rest. I shall have much to ask him of other things. I am blessed that today I come to see you, for I have learn all at once so much that again I am dazzled, dazzled more than ever, and I must think. "Yours the most faithful, "Abraham Van Helsing." LETTER, MRS. HARKER TO VAN HELSING 25 September, 6:30 P.M. "My dear Dr. Van Helsing, "A thousand thanks for your kind letter, which has taken a great weight off my mind. And yet, if it be true, what terrible things there are in the world, and what an awful thing if that man, that monster, be really in London! I fear to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a wire from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25 tonight from Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall have no fear tonight. Will you, therefore, instead of lunching with us, please come to breakfast at eight o'clock, if this be not too early for you? You can get away, if you are in a hurry, by the 10:30 train, which will bring you to Paddington by 2:35. Do not answer this, as I shall take it that, if I do not hear, you will come to breakfast. "Believe me, "Your faithful and grateful friend, "Mina Harker." JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL 26 September. - I thought never to write in this diary again, but the time has come. When I got home last night Mina had supper ready, and when we had supped she told me of Van Helsing's visit, and of her having given him the two diaries copied out, and of how anxious she has been about me. She showed me in the doctor's letter that all I wrote down was true. It seems to have made a new man of me. It was the doubt as to the reality of the whole thing that knocked me over. I felt impotent, and in the dark, and distrustful. But, now that I know, I am not afraid, even of the Count. He has succeeded after all, then, in his design in getting to London, and it was he I saw. He has got younger, and how? Van Helsing is the man to unmask him and hunt him out, if he is anything like what Mina says. We sat late, and talked it over. Mina is dressing, and I shall call at the hotel in a few minutes and bring him over. He was, I think, surprised to see me. When I came into the room whee he was, and introduced myself, he took me by the shoulder, and turned my face round to the light, and said, after a sharp scrutiny, "But Madam Mina told me you were ill, that you had had a shock." It was so funny to hear my wife called `Madam Mina' by this kindly, strong-faced old man. I smiled, and said, "I was ill, I have had a shock, but you have cured me already." "And how?" "By your letter to Mina last night. I was in doubt, and then everything took a hue of unreality, and I did not know what to trust, even the evidence of my own senses. Not knowing what to trust, I did not know what to do, and so had only to keep on working in what had hitherto been the groove of my life. The groove ceased to avail me, and I mistrusted myself. Doctor, you don't know what it is to doubt everything, even yourself. No, you don't, you couldn't with eyebrows like yours." He seemed pleased, and laughed as he said, "So! You are a physiognomist. I learn more here with each hour. I am with so much pleasure coming to you to breakfast, and, oh, sir, you will pardon praise from an old man, but you are blessed in your wife." I would listen to him go on praising Mina for a day, so I simply nodded and stood silent. "She is one of God's women, fashioned by His own hand to show us men and other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its light can be here on earth. So true, so sweet, so noble, so little an egoist, and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so sceptical and selfish. And you, sir. . . I have read all the letters to poor Miss Lucy, and some of them speak of you, so I know you since some days from the knowing of others, but I have seen your true self since last night. You will give me your hand, will you not? And let us be friends for all our lives." We shook hands, and he was so earnest and so kind that it made me quite choky. "and now," he said, "may I ask you for some more help? I have a great task to do, and at the beginning it is to know. You can help me here. Can you tell me what went before your going to Transylvania? Later on I may ask more help, and of a different kind, but at first this will do." "Look here, Sir," I said, "does what you have to do concern the Count?" "It does," he said solemnly." "Then I am with you heart and soul. As you go by the 10:30 train, you will not have time to read them, but I shall get the bundle of papers. You can take them with you and read them in the train." After breakfast I saw him to the station. When we were parting he said, "Perhaps you will come to town if I send for you, and take Madam Mina too." "We shall both come when you will," I said. I had got him the morning papers and the London papers of the previous night, and while we were talking at the carriage window, waiting for the train to start, he was turning them over. His eyes suddenly seemed to catch something in one of them, "The Westminster Gazette", I knew it by the color, and he grew quite white. He read something intently, groaning to himself, "Mein Gott! Mein Gott! So soon! So soon!" I do not think he remembered me at the moment. Just then the whistle blew, and the train moved off. This recalled him to himself, and he leaned out of the window and waved his hand, calling out, "Love to Madam Mina. I shall write so soon as ever I can." DR. SEWARD'S DIARY 26 September. - Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week since I said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again, or rather going on with the record. Until this afternoon I had no cause to think of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as he ever was. He was already well ahead with his fly business, and he had just started in the spider line also, so he had not been of any trouble to me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sunday, and from it I gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey Morris is with him, and that is much of a help, for he himself is a bubbling well of good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear that Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy, so as to them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was settling down to my work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for it, so that I might fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy left on me was becoming cicatrised. Everything is, however, now reopened, and what is to be the end God only knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows, too, but he will only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He went to Exeter yesterday, and stayed there all night. Today he came back, and almost bounded into the room at about half-past five o'clock, and thrust last night's "Westminster Gazette" into my hand. "What do you think of that?" he asked as he stood back and folded his arms. I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant, but he took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being decoyed away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I reached a passage where it described small puncture wounds on their throats. An idea struck me, and I looked up. "Well?" he said. "It is like poor Lucy's." "And what do you make of it?" "Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that injured her has injured them." I did not quite understand his answer. "That is true indirectly, but not directly." "How do you mean, Professor?" I asked. I was a little inclined to take his seriousness lightly, for, after all, four days of rest and freedom from burning, harrowing, anxiety does help to restore one's spirits, but when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our despair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern. "Tell me!" I said. "I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture." "Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no suspicion as to what poor Lucy died of, not after all the hints given, not only by events, but by me?" "Of nervous prostration following a great loss or waste of blood." "And how was the blood lost or wasted?" I shook my head. He stepped over and sat down beside me, and went on, "You are a clever man, friend John. You reason well, and your wit is bold, but you are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are, that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplated by men's eyes, because they know, or think they know, some things which other men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all, and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain. But yet we see around us every day the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves new, and which are yet but the old, which pretend to be young, like the fine ladies at the opera. I suppose now you do not believe in corporeal transference. No? Nor in materialization. No? Nor in astral bodies. No? Nor in the reading of thought. No? Nor in hypnotism. . ." "Yes," I said. "Charcot has proved that pretty well." He smiled as he went on, "Then you are satisfied as to it. Yes? And of course then you understand how it act, and can follow the mind of the great Charcot, alas that he is no more, into the very soul of the patient that he influence. No? Then, friend John, am I to take it that you simply accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to conclusion be a blank? No? Then tell me, for I am a student of the brain, how you accept hypnotism and reject the thought reading. Let me tell you, my friend, that there are things done today in electrical science which would have been deemed unholy by the very man who discovered electricity, who would themselves not so long before been burned as wizards. There are always mysteries in life. Why was it that Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and `Old Parr'one hundred and sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men's blood in her poor veins, could not live even one day? For, had she live one more day, we could save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and death? Do you know the altogether of comparative anatomy and can say wherefore the qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others? Can you tell me why, when other spiders die small and soon, that one great spider lived for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish church and grew and grew, till, on descending, he could drink the oil of all the church lamps? Can you tell me why in the Pampas, ay and elsewhere, there are bats that come out at night and open the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their veins, how in some islands of the Western seas there are bats which hang on the trees all day, and those who have seen describe as like giant nuts or pods, and that when the sailors sleep on the deck, because that it is hot, flit down on them and then, and then in the morning are found dead men, white as even Miss Lucy was?" "Good God, Professor!" I said, starting up. "Do you mean to tell me that Lucy was bitten by such a bat, and that such a thing is here in London in the nineteenth century?" He waved his hand for silence, and went on, "Can you tell me why the tortoise lives more long than generations of men, why the elephant goes on and on till he have sees dynasties, and why the parrot never die only of bite of cat of dog or other complaint? Can you tell me why men believe in all ages and places that there are men and women who cannot die? We all know, because science has vouched for the fact, that there have been toads shut up in rocks for thousands of years, shut in one so small hole that only hold him since the youth of the world. Can you tell me how the Indian fakir can make himself to die and have been buried, and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, and the corn reaped and be cut and sown and reaped and cut again, and then men come and take away the unbroken seal and that there lie the Indian fakir, not dead, but that rise up and walk amongst them as before?" Here I interrupted him. I was getting bewildered. He so crowded on my mind his list of nature's eccentricities and possible impossibilities that my imagination was getting fired. I had a dim idea that he was teaching me some lesson, as long ago he used to do in his study at Amsterdam. But he used them to tell me the thing, so that I could have the object of thought in mind all the time. But now I was without his help, yet I wanted to follow him, so I said, "Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the thesis, so that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At present I am going in my mind from point to point as a madman, and not a sane one, follows an idea. I feel like a novice lumbering through a bog in a midst, jumping from one tussock to another in the mere blind effort to move on without knowing where I am going." "That is a good image," he said. "Well, I shall tell you. My thesis is this, I want you to believe." "To believe what?" "To believe in things that you cannot. Let me illustrate. I heard once of an American who so defined faith, `that faculty which enables us to believe things which we know to be untrue.' For one, I follow that man. He meant that we shall have an open mind, and not let a little bit of truth check the rush of the big truth, like a small rock does a railway truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep him, and we value him, but all the same we must not let him think himself all the truth in the universe." "Then you want me not to let some previous conviction inure the receptivity of my mind with regard to some strange matter. Do I read your lesson aright?" "Ah, you are my favorite pupil still. It is worth to teach you. Now that you are willing to understand, you have taken the first step to understand. You think then that those so small holes in the children's throats were made by the same that made the holes in Miss Lucy?" "I suppose so." He stood up and said solemnly, "Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were so! But alas! No. It is worse, far, far worse." "In God's name, Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?" I cried. He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and placed his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he spoke. "They were made by Miss Lucy!"