Ireland - 1650's A proud and fierce girl, Siobhán would be even prouder and fiercer as Vladimir's second queen. He traveled far and wide as the seeds of his plan begin to take root in his fertile imagination. The wind swept plains of Northern Brittany - a harsh and mysterious land echoed with the cry of the Celtic warriors - the Iron in their blood, stronger than even the iron of Roman swords. Siobhán, the sword maiden and clever adept to the secret druid cults, preferred the mystic trials of the inner quest to the mere tribulation of politics and leadership.

Scorchingly beautiful, and fierce chieftain's daughter, she was often as not the object and promise of barter. Her heart and hand the treasured coin of the realm, and her father played her sparingly -- some say he was loathe to ever lose her at all. He often allowed himself to drown in her affection and he gladly gave her anything she asked. Time was all she ever really wanted. Time to learn, time to explore, time to perfect her ways in the mystical realms.

If her father cherished her, it was the druids who coveted her - her birth prophesised , her schooling molded her destiny woven - she who could talk with wolves - would lead them to freedom once again.

Oh, yes, Siobhán had this gift and many others - but this gift she valued most of all. And word was whispered throughout the emerald isle that it was wolves who protected the Irish clans. And it was a chieftain's princess who's call they would heed.

And though the clans would wrestle and gnash to protect their tribal boundaries they would always allow passing strangers hospitality and warmth. And Vlad would come to know this. He observed their pride and valor, their fierceness and laughter and he lusted for it. Brother who would stand shoulder to shoulder though the odds surely hopeless - would but kill each other for the last mug of ale. Fascinated and beguiled, Vlad watched these Emerald children in wonder - who were these ginger- haired angels born of passion and melancholy, laughter and fire and iron who walked with gods and ghosts? Who danced as though no one watched, and loved as if they'd never been hurt.

And then he saw her - felt her really - an icy stab of awareness between the iron ramparts of her heart. She saw and would be seen - but not by fools, not by the weak not by the arrogant nor the humble. Only the true. She knew the wind. She knew the stars. She called the wolves. She read men's hearts. She would have no lover.

But she might have a King.

And Vlad wanted that. he wanted her service and might allow a chance for her heart but he knew she served the earth... an talamh torhach - and was content to share her with Mother earth...

She could see through his Vampyre cunning, his manly courting his preening and wit. And so he tried something that weaker men would usually have to have stripped from them - the truth.

For she was after all, her father's Princess both in spirit and in practice. Though Ireland was safe on its northern seat - the wars of its southern cousins would strip away its once proud wealth. And her wovles were guardians not raiders - how would her father maintain his control and power when the people cried for food?

And so her heart was woven into the destiny of her people - silent and unadorned, she was their benefactor and angel. And she traded her soul for the Vampyre's kiss. And she no longer called the wolves for she ran with them at will and talked as sister and Queen.

And the fierceness and melancholy, the poetic and raucous and passion and blood of Ireland was his and would bend to his will. The Queen of the Wolf clan would build the strongest of his clans - feroucious and violent and silent and cunning - striking with the force of a north sea storm, the Emerald Isle was awash in the scarlet blood of enemies...

Unlike the fiery love of his first Queen - Siobhán's heart would never be her King's but her head and sword where his as long as he kept vigil over the earth. A simple requirement - as his lust for dominion would always keep earth as a cherished prize.

And so she ruled for her King. And He never wanted for loyalty and respect. And she welcomed him to her bed and her throne. And the mystery of her heart would remain forever that. And he would have to be contented. He threw himself into the building of his army and Nastya's arms to avert his lust - for Siobhán's army was the model of loyalty and discipline.

And She was rewarded for her service in her way. The walls of the mystic crumbled before her will - she walked through her empire and even the Vampyre King would beg her leave to trespass.

And she gave her wolf clan more than immortality - she gave them stewardship and purpose. Two tools that Vlad ignored in his building - unable to fathom how they worked he was content to enjoy Siobhán's offering - never questioning, never meddling. She became his trusted solver - but was aloof in the machinations of the building of his empire - caring not for the expansion and acquisition - she seemed otherworldly - her eyes split between this world and the next learning of the world that the King himself had forgotten.

And so she would always be loyal and lonely to the outside world - a world she pledged to serve well, but would never set foot in...