Dracula ponders over each request. He replies to them in turn.
First it's Claudia's.
"Yours is by far the easiest, child. Your scepter shall be given fine treatment in accordance with the value of your service. Gold and jewels of power shall be added to it. All you need do is speak with one of my blacksmiths - Death will guide you as soon as we're done."
Silva is next.
"Likewise, your dedication is more than moving, young angel. I indeed have a solution, though this might be a touch more... involved, and drastic. I do not expect vanity to be one of your defects, but all the same..."
As he says this, an eye sprouts out of a stalk from Dracula's palm. He places it upon a bowl and makes it float towards Silva.
"This graft, born of my own body, should give you the power to see past many falsehoods. As your power grows, so too will its strength, in time. It should prove invaluable in your future endeavors. An appropriate eyepatch shall be provided to you as well to make control over it easier.
Your weapon shall be tempered with a mix of mine and your blood. It will not fail you. But be forewarned, as it may thirst after your own blood thereafter."
Elizabeth's request is met with a quizzical expression.
"Why do you request of me something that you could easily obtain yourself? Furthermore, why a gift so frail? If it is sustenance you fear for, one of the alchemists under my employ has discovered the secret to the creation of a special kind of homunculus that should more than cover your needs, though it is not much good for anything else.
It would also make for a paltry reward. Thus, I offer you in addition three droplets of my own blood. As father of vampirekind, no doubt you understand how much this would increase your abilities. Think on it a moment."
Maeve's request is left for last.
"Clearly you have taken great pains to so much as utter the words. The pride of the fey is legendary. The pride of a queen, even moreso.
Maeve, you severely underestimate the respect I hold for you, as opposed to the contempt I hold for many of your kind. Not once since you chose to work for me did I mean to deny that which you seek now. Of course you understand that I cannot return the full extent of your power to you now - you are far too weak as it is, and that would kill you, defeating the purpose. And you understand as well that even should you choose to repeat that sorry incident, I would not be so lenient a second time.
With that said, I do not expect you to continue serving me once you have recovered your glory in all its plenitude. Nor will I ask you to. But I promise I will do my utmost to keep my lips sealed regarding how you are come to recover. Otherwise word would spread, and no fey who once swore fealty to you would respect you again.
I can return your power. But to regain your dignity... that is something only you can reclaim."
With this said, Dracula holds up his hand. A pristine icicle forms upon his palm, floating in midair.
"Likewise, there is no delicate way to do this."
Dracula flings the icicle with a flick of his wrist. which shoots unerringly towards Maeve. It impales her through the heart and sends her flying backwards where she ends up nailed to a nearby wall. Her body seems to lay lifeless for a moment as her blood slowly drips to the edge of the icicle. It freezes midstream, and then begins to recede. With a sound of shattering crystal, the icicle steadily decomposes into light and the light is reabsorbed into Maeve's body. As the power becomes one with her again, an ear-splitting scream urges forth from Maeve's body as her skin takes on a pale blue tone, her eyes growing fully white, her fingernails taking on a frostbitten darker blue hue. And finally, she falls to the ground, on one knee, as she reasserts dominance over her stolen clout. Whether she will return to her previous appearance remains to be seen, but it is certainly within her purview to do so.
