#and alucard helping him let her go with the realization that a world of darkness and suffering isn’t a world annette would want 😭😭😭

[droltatzuentes]

“No! You’ll kill her, Sehkmet. You’ll kill Annette. I don’t care about the world. I don’t care if we live in eternal fucking darkness. Leave her alone. Leave Annette alone!”

[krewekreep]

After the Night Ends Chapter 1

3K Words. Alucard X OC!Reader. Reader is non binary with a femme body. AU but contains lore from Castlevania & Castlevania: Nocturne. Takes place during the last episode and goes from there

Angst, Estranged Lovers AU, Soulmate AU, Alucard is a reclusive, flirtatious snarky brat. Not 18+ yet but following chapters may and will be properly tagged as such. So indulgent I’m adding a soundtrack. Unknown Mortal Orchestra - Multi Love.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤

Your estranged love materialized out of thin air. A ghost of his former self; a slimmed figure, stark white hair, pearlescent pale skin. His eyes a hollow but peering yellow. Your heart beat beyond sound, a thunderous full body vibration. Although in mid-air piercing his sleek ornate sword through Drolta’s chest, you could do nothing more but falter in stability at his appearance. “Adrian…” you mumbled low. Richter took in your surprise realizing you had not been truthful of your affiliation with Dracula. Or rather, your affiliation was a lot more intimate than you let on. Much of your facade fell as Drolta’s screech and outreached hand towards you gave no fear. Not only because your Adrian was immaculate with his weapon, or the fact he would never let anything happen to you—you could handle yourself beyond compare.

For the sake of achieving your desire of reuniting with your love you found yourself amongst these well-meaning youth of tomorrow. Disguising your age was not difficult at this point in your travels but faking your background became harder as the old world you knew was vastly changed. You had to learn now, with your darker complexion, and couple hundred years from your original background, how to navigate the questions of who you were and where you came from.

The days of knowing the love of your life as Alucard, fighting and joking alongside Trevor and Sypha were long gone. You had already joined them close to the end of their respective voyages latching onto Alucard because of your shared loneliness and troubled background. Admittedly, you wanted to snatch Adrian away into the darkness to confirm he’s the man who’s dangling in the air as if an ethereal marionette. Yet, in a way he was nothing as you remembered. The soft peach of his warm skin, his lively almost rose golden tresses, the breadth of his shoulders—all replaced by a more demure, reclusive, cold countenance. He felt…dead. You were the only one in suspension at this point as Drolta crashed to the ground without a nail reaching you. Her radiant crimson pink embers dwindling with her decaying body catching up to all the time she used. You could admit she had been captivating even if depraved. And as you watched her body wither into the wind a booted foot fell into your eye line. Large, leathered, and desiring acknowledgment.

Now he was on Earth, on land, the same as yours, beckoning you to confront the man you abandoned almost three hundred and something years ago. Your adoration and yearning caught in your throat. How could you apologize to him? Was it actually on you to apologize? How could you explain you missed him but hated him but loved him but ran away? You hadn’t realized you’d fallen to your knees until Richter prompted: “What the fuck is actually going on?” He stood back protective of Annette and Maria, his bulked arm extended as a barrier. You took no notice of him as when the second foot touched Earth you could muster no confidence to face your estranged beloved. “I heard you are in need of assistance,” he spoke directly above you, turning his head stilted to throw “Belmont.” The name fell from his lips in a knowing but wayward tone. “I am the son of Dracula…and I believe you have been looking for me.” Almost a question, hinted with deprived amusement. Everyone’s eyes fell to you who could do nothing more but clutch your chest tightly, wide-eyed. A nervous wreck of emotions. Richter spoke finally “Yes…we need your help,” he was earnest and determined taking in the gaping white of the eclipse centered in the blackened sky. He wavered looking to the ground defeated. “We…dearly need your help.” Richter was the most overtly perturbed. But also the most obviously willing to sacrifice his life to save the world. You knew them all courageous, even poor Eduard you promised Annette to help. It was easy to lie to them at first, everyone was cautious of the other. Yet, fight after fight, you all proved your loyalty and even love for one another. Then, the guilt of deceit weighed on you. You lied to them about everything focused only on your goal of finding your beloved again. And here he was in all his angelic splendor far from how you left him. You were as weak as when you ran away.

Maria joins “We are going to fight against Erzabeth. She has done unspeakable evils…” she weakens to a whimper as the thoughts of her mother hushes the entire group. Richter, now never not scowling, continues: “We are going to kill that Bitch. But it would be helluva lot easier if you join us…” Alucard stood statuesque, as acclaimed a visage as Apollo or Dionysus. A truly remarkable visual that captivated them all. If only they knew how many before them could do nothing more but gawk at his appearance. If only they knew how his skin glowed against the sun, unlike this almost bleached complexion. How his hair fell far beyond his shoulders and bounced with his laugh or his ballerino steps as he sauntered about. 300 years…how alone you had been. How alone he had had to have been. Tears brim but you quickly wipe them away shaking your head. It felt unreal, surreal, a lie.

“Are you…” his voice was soft, loving. “In need of any assistance too? Ma’am?” What? Ma’am? It was sharp and loaded. It was what he referred to you when you arrived appearing as a lost young maiden unbeknownst to him with experience in new identities already. When you arrived in the dark begging for his mercy and somewhere to reprieve. In a long blue ornate dress you stole easily from a paused caravan at the neighboring stop. All you needed to steal was food, medicine, and yeah maybe something to sell. In the unsafe sweep of midnight you saw the torches that lit the garden before the mountainous shadow of castle came into view. You could only make it out as the dark clouds passing peeked moonlight through that reflected off the staggering pointedness of the seemingly alive, angry architecture.

Truly had it not been the dead of night, as a woman (well perceived as such despite your personal desires), and performing the damsel role. You ended up sticking yourself in a situation where you’d need to go back miles the way you came or stick out this con of sorts. You thought to nab a few vegetables but it was so well kept you thought smart of guard dogs or some sort of watcher. Wouldn’t be far fetched someone peers out of the windows of this monstrous abode awaiting a strangers mistake.

You rush past clutching your dress in a hurry. Makes sense to seem distraught, lost, and vulnerable. You knocked softly upon the door which felt immediately futile. How thick and staggering the door was and the real size of the castle sent a cold chill through you. You press your hand to the door because you were sure you felt a pulse, or that rather while you knew it was not flesh—the door felt aware of you. I guess I’ll knock again. You knock much harder this time. Banging actually as you felt foolish becoming annoyed at how hard it was to successfully be weak. But in exchange for your admittedly resounding knocks you lifted your voice to a pitiful, desperate “Please! Hello!!! I’m lost and in dire need of assistance! Any help!! Please!!” Oh how you’d be sure to steal as much as you could. You were about to quit before the hulking door widened by itself. Tired of your persistence the door cracked enough to show a vast gallery with huge winding stairwells on either side. It felt like a library…while life has known these floors there’s a sense that much has happened…but you can’t ignore the cobwebs, floating dusts, and the sense that if someone did live here, they forewent cleaning a good bit of time ago. You shimmied through the doorway as it had not been kind enough to open fully. You stumbled a bit taking it all in.

“Hello?! Apologies, I’ve led myself astray far from those I was traveling with. I can compensate handsomely…” It just didn’t feel like you were talking to no one. Instead of reversing course you were the stubborn, hard headed type. “Please, I…I actually have no one.” You could be somewhat honest you supposed. Becoming genuinely desperate that atleast you weren’t crazy. “I am here in need of food and shelter. Only for a night.” You voice blared across the gallery traveling it’s way into the further darkness of the hallways leading deeper into the abyss of this now increasingly creepy place. Fear, worry, concern crept upon you. Maybe I did choose wrong. “I’m…desperate…but I know an unwelcome guest... I apologize for bothering you…thank you for opening your door if just to bade the weather for a time.” You were sincere. Whatever, whoever this was while maybe not of pure malice or evil was definitely not interested. You turned on your heel quickly about to shimmy back through the door’s crack when a masculine voice of obvious nobility cleared his throat loudly. So much so it stalled your legs leaving you shook to the core. You turned jolted at the sight of a long haired blonde man. A man you could easily claim is 6’3-6’5, dressed in a loose open chested blouse ruffled at the wrists. His broad shoulders, substantial almost bare chest, and his height sent you in a tizzy. You slipped on nothing grabbing at the door with an awkward chuckle. “Hello! Hi! I-uh,” Goddamn he’s attractive. “I’m just here for help. I am in need of food and reprieve, sir.” You clutched your hands to your heart, cleavage corseted against your chest that made your breasts bubble over the arch of the heart shaped hem. You knew how you looked—pathetic, sexy, and in need. You look up at him at a distance that blurs your ability to look him in the eyes. Most men were weak once you looked them in the eyes. Not only would you get what you needed… if he decided you could only take if you gave…you’d consider obliging.

“You could’ve taken the food in the garden…why disrupt me?” He was actually confused. Yeah you could’ve just stolen the food but there was a role to play and now by his presentation being a princess for tonight was acceptable. “I could’ve but I found it lacking etiquette. At the very least a proper request is well within my rights.” You fold your arms now in coquettish annoyance. Poking your lips out a bit in a pout. “I knew someone lived here by the attention and cleanliness of your land. So I just felt…determined I guess.” You throw a glance at the man still perched atop the stairway balcony. He’s unmoving and establishing his disinterest clearly. “Hmmm.” He looks you over well accustomed to a swindler. You were quite obvious as you only had began to even run in desperation towards the castle after scoping out much of the area. You were right, you had been watched. Unbeknownst to you the master of this home watched you wrestle your dress in frustration, curse along about your hatred for being girly, and your promise to yourself to take extra for your trouble. How dare you push out your chest, lift your voice, and plead as if a real maiden. He was amused but more cautious. Had he not known true violating betrayal he’d have likely bantered you into exposing yourself. He likely would’ve accepted your cleavage as repentance for lying. But, he actually was growing irritated with you. Had your stomach not growled this whole time he’d have a harder time even wanting to feed you.

“You may eat and leave. You cannot stay the night.” He was stoic. You had no real emotion or response to play off of so you leaned more into your attempt at flirtation. “Is that right?” You walked farther in now center of the gallery. You were able to see more of his features in the wafting light of the candlebras and chandelier. He was beyond. And you caught the raise of his brow at your staring. “Why might I not rest until morning?” Why not press the issue? While past midnight that meant you absolutely could stay till morning. A couple hours wouldn’t hurt this guy. “I’m truly alone. I would not ask of this with such persistence if I had somewhere else.” You place your open hand on your chest hoping to appeal to him. “One must know shame so please be aware I recognize how lowly it is of me to ask of you anything. I can maneuver the day very well…night…as someone like me…is just simply a danger I avoid at all costs.” This time you ended with the truth. Whether it be vagrants, vampires, night creatures, or the general evil person you knew and seen things that will always send you seeking shelter before the bars even begin to bustle with evening noise.

He felt your sincerity but cared not as you were already deceptive and up to no good. “A young maiden alone…” he was not one to be made a fool. “In the dead of night…” he began to slowly, eerily descend the stairs. Your wolf clawed through screaming you needed to scram. A bone deep desire to flee overcame you as his physique, face, and mood of pure annoyance actually intimidated you. “In a dress of such quality…bejeweled…clean…” Oh no. You realized what was happening. He knows I’m lying. He caught me. “How might I believe you are hungry…only in need of rest…where did you come from?” He is now at the last step before being equal on the floor with you. You babbled nothing as you had to look up to face him. “You must think me stupid. As if a mere commoner woman, thief…” he says with a certain venom. “Would be able to make a fool of Dracula’s son.” He hissed this time disappearing before closing the door harshly behind you. You leapt away from him colliding with the floor. “Dracula??? He’s dead??!” You screamed. “There’s no way your Dracula’s son. I apologize.” You bend your head to the floor on your knees. “I beg of you spare me.” The despair at your possible end turned you into a proper beggar. Rubbing your hands pitifully together. You were strong, you weren’t necessarily fully human but…this was beyond your comprehension.

“Sir I beg of you. I beg of you. Spare me. I am nothing more than a hungry wanderer. I lied. I lied. I’m sorry. Please do not hurt me.” Your mortal pain did touch this dhamphir before you. He would never kill you…why would you need to die when you are hungry? He could only understand you but a bite rose in his mouth. How he had trusted Trevor, Sypha…those other two…he could only resent himself for how easy he was. But tonight you will not disrupt him or his solitude or his impending desire to end his life. Your eyes pooled with tears as you watched his booted, leathered feet planted firmly in front you.

All you needed was food right? A couple hours sleep? Then leave and never return. His mind has been made up. “I do not consume as you mortals do. The garden is actually for the community. I do not horde what people are in dire need of…” he couldn’t help the disgust he felt at your trembling crying frame robbed of all the confidence you just had. How disgusting he was. Scary, unwanted, and forever cursed with his Father’s resentful countenance and his mother’s wondrous love and consideration. How deprived to sink his eye site in the lapse of fabric your dress caused in this pose. From your face to your lower belly visible as your hunched over figure exposed you. Once he was upon you the dress was so ill fitting to your size he almost laughed aloud at you pretending to be of some wealth and awareness.

Honestly tired of your very mortal woman fear he bent to a knee, offering a hand to you saying. “Ma’am? If you could consider my earlier behavior that of a brute…you may eat as you wish and rest until morning.” You began to protest. “No-No that’s absolutely okay. I will leave and it is as if I never bothered you.” You rose without raising your head. “I will leave as fast as I arrived.” But as you looked up directly into his eyes your stomach twisted and your mouth agape. He was immaculate. Gorgeous. Perfect. Son of Dracula? He huffed a chuckle and an incredibly weak smile. He’s trying, you thought. Caught up in the poke out of his fangs, he closes his mouth self consciously offering “Would you like maybe more comfortable clothes? A beautiful dress completely unsuitable for your stature.” He was judging. “Uh-I mean the dress isn’t actually that bad.” You choke out defending your outfit. “No no it’s not the attire at all…” it seems his eyes wandered too low there. “It’s you in it…” Oh okay ouch? “I have had many a traveler seek here for shelter. The kitchen is through the lower foyer on the right. Whatever is there is what you may use. It will have only what anyone has decided not to take. Do not do anything more than that. First and final warning.” He rose from you without another word ascending the stairs soon disappearing into the blackness of the upper hallway. The moment his aura depleted you could breathe again taking a couple of minutes to collect yourself before heading towards the kitchen. You threw a fearful glance up at the staircase walking under it and through to the expansive ground floor. Unable to get the image of the master of this home out of your mind. Scared of him but weirdly yearning deeply to know more.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

Requests Open

[sonicasura]

It was odd at first for the fused Sleuth and Demidevimon. Being in a world that had Vampires, Werewolfs, Fleamen and everything else that goes Bump in the night. But strangness was easier too get used too for the fused Duo when they deal with it on a daily basis.

Being taken in by who is essentially the King of all Vampires along with his wife and son was defnitely up there on the oddity scale.

Though Myotismon quickly fell into a sorta comfortable rythnm.

After Dracula heard about the attempted excution he was close too going berserk but with Lisa and Alcuard there they were able too calm Dracula down so he could think a bit more clearly. Besides that Dracula took wanting too learn more about Myotismon. Which is how he learned that the odd Vampire did not turn too ash in the light ( though Myotismon could not go all out in the sunlight) and did not feed on blood for nurishment. That caught Dracula attention more than the sunlight thing. Dracula from that point on constantly offered Myotismon blood and told him that it was not healthy for a Vampire too forgo drinking blood. It got worse when Dracula realized Myotismon was just a kid too.

Lisa teased Dracula that she was more perceptive than he was, as she noticed that Myotismon was just a kid on about the 3rd day while it took him a full weak too notice. Also Lisa thankfully convinced Dracula too cool it with blood which Myotismon was definitely graceful for.

Lisa spent time learning a bit more about Myotismon since after Lisa's home was burned down she lost a lot of her Medical Books and notes. After they salvaged what they could Myotismon took too helping Lisa in the Library rebuild and expand upon her Medical research. Which was also the perfect time too learn more about the odd Vampire. She asked if there were others like them, how they transformed into that form, if they had any friends so on and so forth. Myotismon answered the best he could as Sleuth and Demidevimon wanted too wait until they could unfuse as it would be easier too explain.

Alucard and Myotismon took a bit too get used too each other. The odd Vampire and Dhampir were a bit awakward with each other at first. But that cleared up when Alucard and Myotismon started talking about literature and the various sciences. Sleuth had always had a fascination in Computor Sciences and thankfully quite a bit could applied too the other Sciences. Classic Literature was something Sleuth was not all thay familiar with but Alucard was happy too give them a beginners guide too Alucard. The books gave a good pastime for Myotismon and Sleuth and Demidevimon hope they didn't mess up the this worlds timeline in anyway when they built a small rudimentary flashlight that was rechargable.

Though Alucard along with Dracula and Lisa when they found out were very impressed with Myotismon's creation.

Listen it's dark in the Cellars ok!

It had been about 3 weeks at this point when Dracula told everyone that it was that time of year again.

The Annual Council Of Vampires

The Castle would be discussing the affairs and issues of Vampire leaders across the continents and from how Dracula looked when speaking about it, he was definitely not thrilled about this meeting. He asked that everyone wait in a secure part of the Castle as while this meeting was supposed too be civil when your in a room with competing egos and ambitions. You can never be too careful. After which he wanted too have them all come done for the ending Dinner. A tradition too try and end these meetings on a high note.

Dracula figured it would be the best place too properly introduce Alucard and Myotismon. He figured Alucard was now old enough too ayten the Dinner and wanted too at least introduce Myotismon too the other Vampires.

This was going too be a interesting Dinner too say the least...

Extra - After Dracula's Announcement

Mytosimon: Alucard?

Alucard: Hmm...what is it Myotismon?

Myotismon: Can you...teach me proper dinner etiquette?

Alucard let out a soft chuckle at the question while smiling

Alucard: Of course. Now come on than let's start, the sooner the better after all!

One of Sleuth's Digimon has to be Mummymon because the thought about Lisa discussing medicine with someone who's equally interested is stuck in my head. Plus I can see the Ultimate being mistaken for one of the monsters that live in the castle and accidentally gets taken inside. They don't have Sleuth's Digivice but it's a relief to find one missing friend.

Also considering these particular vampires can shapeshift into more monstrous forms, I imagine the very egoistical ones attempt to push Dracula's buttons through Myotismon. Some figure the newcomer is a fledgling thus weak and inexperienced. Normally Sleuth would ignore it but these arses decide to drag Alucard into it for being a dhampir.

What better way to shut them up than the appearance of GranDracmon? Once Sleuth drives their point across about how one should behave in someone else's home, practically scolding the vampires like their misbehaving children, they revert back to Myotismon. Dracula hid the huge grin he had behind his wine glass.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought. 

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️  Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity. 

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.” 

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

--

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician. 

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

 “I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough. 

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

[kkeidawrites]

AHHH idk rlly know if you still do requests but if u still do could u do Adrian tepes x black reader

Where after the battle in season 2 reader initially went with sypha and trevor to help them with whatever they were gonna do but y/n ends missing adrian (and was tired of those to goofing all the time) so in the dead of night y/n takes some supplies and runs back to the castle. And when she sees the castle in sight she throws open the doors and starts looking for alucard

(Fluff)

Ur account is like my safe place I don't find many black readers/ writers so I absolutely love your posts ❤❤

Thank you so much for saying that I do try when I write and I want people to be inspired to write more black reader stories or actually more black leads in stories’ I’m not sure if you wanted the reader to be male/female or gender neutral, so you can decide as you read along! And yes, I am still open to requests!

$$$$$$$$$$$$$&$$$$$$$$$$$$$&$$$$$$$$$$

It was like a breath of fresh air when Y/n saw the looming infamous castle of Walachia. Y/N had made the decision to leave with Trevor and Sypha, thinking it was the best decision. But was it? As the covered wagon rolled down the dirt path leading away from the castle, Y/N felt her heart break.

Y/N could tell as the three of them departed the widowed dhampir, that he did not want them to leave. As Y/N thought about it, after being away for two weeks, that when Dracula’s reign had ended, Trevor and Sypha felt that they needed to leave right after. Y/N thought their abrupt departure was selfish both on their part and on Y/N’s as well.

Y/N still didn’t know what the original plan was in the first place when getting on that wagon with Sypha and Trevor. Y/N felt it was the right thing to do. Was it the right thing to do? The question constantly whispered in Y/N’s head.

The wagon stopped one evening and Trevor suggested that they rest here and continue on to Argeis come morn. Sypha noticed Y/N’s quiet nature that evening, usually when she and Trevor were arguing or playful banter, Y/N would chime in but it seemed that entire week, her playful quips wasn’t heard as much as Sypha thought.

It concerned the Speaker and she questioned if there was anything wrong. Y/N gave off a wavered yes of being alright and told the Speaker that only the thoughts rattling in the mind was all that was wrong.

Sypha didn’t question Y/N anymore and rolled over in the wagon to get some much needed and deserved sleep. Y/N opted to sleep outside to ponder the thoughts plaguing them. Twisting and turning in the sleeping bag, didn’t help at all and Y/N sat up with a huff.

Y/N felt anxious. This wasn’t the life planned out, not like this, not alone. Well, other than Trevor and Sypha’s presence, Y/N felt alone in the Wallachian world.

Where Y/N forlorn, the color of your skin was dark and your hair was kinky and coiled. The heat of the country seemed like second nature and the many animals that roamed and only seen in that country was its own majesty.

Someone completely different than what you saw in Walachia. Y/N was born to a single mother, their father had been killed by those accursed night monsters and since then Y/N had made it their mission to become a strong dual swordsman, studying under the elders of the people under the sun and learning the medicines that would keep them alive in this world.

Y/N and Alucard’s meet was an interesting one. Their initial meeting was when the trio were on their way to Dracula’s castle and night creatures had made their appearance in Gresit where Y/N was vacating after evacuating Lupu.

Y/N was fighting off the monsters in Gresit and saved a couple of children when the trio arrived and made light work of the rest. Y/N didn’t want anyone to know that they existed and made haste to leave in the shadows to avoid the people most importantly the church.

In the past, Y/N’s mother was subjected by the church in Lupu for her darker skin. Believing that such dark skin was the skin of a demon raised from Hell to walk along humans. Y/N’s mother, a spitfire set the priest straight and told him if Devil wanted to have her raise death and destruction on Earth then he would have asked for it already.

It also didn’t help the fact that the priest’s goons would come after Y/N and Y/N’s mother, harassing them all the time and trying to run them out of town. Y/N’s mother always stood strong and fought those goons off whenever they tried to get physical; sending them back to their puppet master with their strings twisted.

So, it was no surprise when Y/N had met the trio by accidentally running into the dhampir while attempting to escape through an alley. His solid figure made Y/N’s hood fall off their head and the coils of their hair is what brought the attention of the trio.

Alucard made a comment, curious about the coils, it was almost childlike when he asked. Y/N was thrown off guard by the question and made haste to leave the area quietly but the speaker stopped Y/N asking if they were familiar with the area and where they could get a covered wagon.

Y/N didn’t answer her question and moved to leave once more only to be stopped once more, by the dhampir again. His calm demeanor and honeyed words brought Y/N’s attention to the man. At first, Y/N mind was not on talking to anyone but, once their eyes found Alucard’s gold ones Y/N was intrigued.

As a help them help you situation, Y/N was persuaded by Sypha to help them end Dracula’s murderous reign and Y/N agreed. Y/N didn’t care if Alucard was the son of Dracula, it was the fact that Y/N’s mother lived in Argeis and the thought of her killed by the creatures of the night didn’t sit right.

In the little time the four were together, it seemed that Alucard and Y/N were the first to interact with one another more than Sypha and Trevor. They could relate with one another in a way, both their mothers strong, smart and knowing that helping people no matter the ideas they had or if they didn’t want it, was deserved to anyone.

When his father had died, Y/N was there by his side to shield him from the swirling ashes of hell demons as a way to let him know that it was alright to grieve his father.

Y/N had made her decision. Staying with Trevor and Sypha was fun but, this wasn’t the life Y/N sought for.

Going to the wagon, Y/N swiped a small bag of food, just some cheeses and bread and left behind a quick note to Sypha and a little joke to Trevor’s smell then left to return to the castle.

Presently, Y/N walked up the stone steps to the large double doors of the castle and didn’t care to knock. Pushing open the doors, Y/N marveled the recently cleaned up entrance hall, the furnished red rugs were either burnt or ripped and the statues were all destroyed.

“Alucard?” Y/N calls and makes haste to the twin stairwell.

Now that they were here, Y/N needed to find the dhampir and tell him how sorry they were for leaving him behind. For leaving him alone.

“Alucard!” Y/N made their way up the two flights of stairs, searching for the dhampir.

Where could he have gone? Y/N’s mind scrambled for any explanation or idea as to where he could have gone.

“The Hold!” Y/N exclaimed and rushed down the two flights, hoping that he would not leave in time for Y/N to find him.

However, as soon as Y/N reached the entrance hall, the man of the hour was walking up the right side of the two stairwells and paused on the third step up, his eyes wide from realization of Y/N’s sudden appearance. His right hand gripped the small yellow basket and Y/N’s eyes widened then lowered in relief.

“Alucard…there you are.” Y/N sighed, grateful that he was alright and made their way down the same stairwell to see him closer.

“I was worried something happened to you, you know this castle is big as hell-”

“Y/N.” Alucard’s quiet gasp of their name made Y/N grin as they grew closer to him.

“I think being with Sypha and Trevor for too long has made you forget me, Alucard. That’s not nice. I thought we were friends? You don’t forget your friends-”

Arms wrapped around Y/N’s waist and a warm body hugged their front as Alucard sighed into Y/N’s coily hair, inhaling their scent to make himself sure that they were real and here in his arms.

“I could never forget you, Y/N…never ever.” He told Y/N. Y/N arms wrapped around him just as snug and rubbed their cheek into his bird chest, a smile gracing their lips.

“Will you stay?” His question makes Y/N look up at him and their smile grows wider as they nodded.

“Yes. I will stay.”

[viking-goat-420]

Alucard (smut) form my old account not edited

They say that everyone has a mate, and once you find your mate nothing and no one can take you away from them. I was not a normal human being I was a feral muntin of the cat kind and with my power, I can change into a large cat or a small one it really depended on what I needed.

" (Y/N) I have a need for you to take the wild geese and go and track down the vampire who is draining a town full of people" I looked over at my boss who just so happens to be the one who was the master or monsters and I fit right in with that. I was a monster and I had no problem with that.

"Of course, my Master," I said bowing down to her before walking out of the door It was about 30 years since the blitz in London and they were still waiting for this Alucard guy to show up. I had come to Sir Integra just after that day having saved her life back then and I was the one who helped run things after. I did just about anything she needed me to and with the power I had I could go days without sleep and would be just fine.

"Let's go Pip grab the guys, we got a job to do," I said looking over at my best guy friend as he lit up a cancer stick. In the acatke, on the manner, Pip was wounded so badly and almost died only to bring himself back from death by drinking the blood and becoming a vampire.

"Oi (Y/N) where are we headed?" he said as the guys got into the jeeps

"We're going to cheddar to kill a vampire" I said grinning my fangs on full show Pip smiled back.

(Later)

I walked into the manner after writing up a report and headed down to my room I knew my master was asleep and would give it to her in the morning. I heard the sound of gunshots and ran as fast as my legs would carry me to my master's room where I came face to face with sears and her big ass gun. She kicked open the door flashing everyone when I heard her gasp.

"Master!" She yelled out before lowering her gun I, on the other hand, kept my tense stance.

"What the hell is going on? Master are you alright?" I asked coming to stand close to her as I walked more into the room the scent of this man made me purr out before I could stop myself making My master looked at me with a raised brow.

"Yes, I'm sure you would like to know who this is (Y/N) this is Alucard the one who we have all been waiting to return," she said while sitting on the bed I felt a pull towards this man and was hoping like hell he was not my mate.

"Well if there is no danger than I shall take my leave, good night master," I said not looking over Alucard and walked out of the room. I had no clue what was going to happen now but I had a feeling I was being followed and just as I opened my door Alucard was sitting in my chair.

"So you took my place while I was gone?" he asked with a bored tone I had to give it to him he sure was sexy.

"Somewhat, I'm not really human so I can do things other can't trust me though it's been really boring," I said thinking all of the times I went on hunts only to come up with someone who was not worth even my time to fight.

"Tell me how old are you?" I looked over at him finding that he looked like someone I had met before only I could not put my finger on where i had seen him before.

"Eh, about 300 years old give or take," I said sitting down on my bed he was nice to talk to even if he is prying into my life. Even though I know this I find myself unable to hold back when he asks me things. "If you have nothing else to say I'm gonna get some sleep," I said as I pulled the blankets back so I could get into bed I felt the air around me heat back up and knew that Alucard had left.

(One Month Later)

"You was reckless! If I didn't step in you would have been killed" Alucard growled form everything I knew about him the only one he truly cared about was our master and the police girl.

"Oh please, I can't be killed, trust me I would have been dead a long time ago," I said stripping off my top to show him I was healed I felt his cool body get closer to mine and felt him run his fingers down my back.

"Tell me when do you plan to stop fighting this and give in?" he growled out his face close to my neck inhaling my scent.

"I have no clue what you mean," I said turning around to face him and felt my knees go weak at the look on his face.

"You are my mate, my queen, my fourth bride," he said with each kiss to my lips before deepening the kiss and stealing my breath away. I was lost to his touch and the taste of him I knew what he was saying was true but I was still going to make him fight for it. I was not the type to lay down and give in, I was a fighter.

"Oh really? You think that? Hmm, how about you prove it then" I said holding him close to my body his cool hard body felt wonderful against my hotter body with what I am I ran a little hotter than normal.

"I plan on it" Before I knew it I was laying on my back naked with a very sexy powerful vampire laying on top of me kissing sucking on my neck. I could feel his fangs scrape my neck and turned my head a little more giving him more room to work with. I had a plan to fight him but I didn't say I would not enjoy what he was doing.

While Alucard was working on my neck I tightened the hold on his hips and flipping us over so I was on top and I leaned down to crash his mouth to mine our fangs clashing and our tastes mingled together making me moan. I could feel how hard he was and wanted to taste him badly so I started to kiss down his neck leaving little bites as I went until I was face to face with his manhood. He was the biggest I had ever seen and couldn't wait till he was inside of me.

"Who said you could be on top? I heard him growl out as I licked the tip tasting him I locked my eyes with his before taking him fully into my mouth and down my throat making myself gag on him. I felt him grab onto my hair and held me in place before thrusting up and fucking my mouth while he was doing that I started to rub on his balls making him lose his pace and thrust up into me a little harder.

"Fuck, You suck my cock so well, take all of me I plan to cum down you pretty little throat" Alucard growled out before fucking my throat how he wanted I loved how he was using me even though I was on top he was very much in control and I loved a man who knew what he wanted and could take control of me in the bedroom. I knew he was close and sucked extra hard on him making him jump over the edge and cumming down my throat. I slowly sat up keeping his cock in my mouth as long as I could before I let him go with a loud pop and licked my lips. Before I knew it I was back on my back and he was raging hard again.

Alucard kissed me biting my lip till I opened my mouth to him and our tongues dueled for dominance. He won in the end only because he cheated by playing with my clit. I was dripping wet and was close to begging him to fuck me. I don't even remember the last time I had been fucked good and hard.

"Your dripping already and I have barely even touched you, my queen," he said while speeding up his pace I was a moaning mess by the time I felt his long as fuck tongue plunge into my hot wet cunt fucking me. I arched up and grabbed a fist full of his hair and was pulling him closer to me my claws starching his scalp making him groan.

"Fuck! Please don't stop, make me cum on your tongue" I begged while I started to thrust into wet needy cunt on his warm tongue I heard him growl and throw my head back at the feeling, it sent me on my clit. I was so close to coming that when he pinched my clit it sent me over the edge Alucard was making a happy sucking sound as if I was the best thing he has ever tasted in his life.

"Are you ready for me?" Alucard said as he moved his body back up was he was nestled in between my legs I was more than ready for him. I wanted him to fuck me tell I could not move anymore.

"Fuck me, Make me your, Make me forget about anyone else but you" I moaned out while thrusting my hips up into his feeling his hard manhood rubbing on my clit.

"As you wish" was the last thing I heard before my world was crashing down when he plunged into my cunt fucking me right off the bat. Alucard didn't wait to let me adjust he fucked me like he was a man possessed. My nails were digging down into his back drawing blood making him growl out his fangs got longer. I could feel I was losing control of my animal side and flipped us over where I was on top of him. Alucard grabbing my hips and started to thrust upon me as I took control of the speed and rode him how I wanted. I was so fucking close to cumming that I had nothing else On my mind but finding my peak.

"Fuck, Yes, Fuck me just like that! You feel so good inside me" I moaned out I was flipped back onto my back with him on top of me the whole time we were fighting for who was going to be on top. Our fucking was more like a fuck and fight only this time no one would die.

"Who do you belong to" I heard him growl in my neck but I was too far gone to speak and was only able to moan for him. The feeling of his hand around my neck choking me brought me back to myself and I could understand what he had asked me.

"You! I belong to you!" with my words I felt him sink his fangs into my neck drinking my blood I had this uncontrollable urge to bite him as well and did just that. Marking him as my mate for the rest of his undead life. The feeling of him sucking my blood pushed me over the edge and I came screaming his name my nails going down his back drawing blood.

When I finally came back to myself I realized that he was no longer on top of me and that a blanket was over us both. I rolled over and laid my head on his chest where his heart should be beating only to find it wasn't. Alucard's cool body helped to cool me down after our mating.

"Well, That was fun," I said yawning my eyes were getting heavy and knew sleep was not far off

"Agreed" was the last thing I heard before I was pulled into the darkness of the dreamworld.

[tales-unique]

FAULTS OF THE HEART IV

Chapter 4

“It’s healing nicely,” Alucard hums, nimble fingers gently tracing the puckered scar on your shoulder, looking for any problematic signs. “I still get some stiffness in it,” you acknowledge with a small laugh, “but at least I can use my arm again!” It's been a long, tiring road to recovery, but you have finally completed it. Your arm is no longer useless, wrapped up in bandages. Now it’s almost as good as before. You can even use a bow, which means that you are now ready to leave the castle, and Alucard, behind.

A frown darkens your expression at the thought; you’ve become quite fond of him in the time you’ve been there and he seems to have warmed to you too. “Is something wrong?” Alucard’s voice is gentle, his brow furrowed. He’s pulled back his hand, probably assuming that he’s the source of your souring mood. “Oh,” you force a smile, waving your hand dismissively, “no, not really. It’s fine.” Alucard sees through the flimsy lie easily and embarrassment colours your cheeks a dusty pink when he fixes you with a deadpan stare. You tug your sleeve back into place, looking away from him. You press back against the counter top you’re leaning against, distracting yourself by staring at a cracked tile on the wall. Soft afternoon light filters through the kitchen window, painting him in beautiful golden light; it does nothing to help you in that moment. “You know that doesn’t work on me,” he chides, circling around to face you. He’s grown bolder around you as of late, challenging you more often, and though it forces you to confront your emotions you rather like this side of him. He’s healing just as much as you are and you feel content knowing that you’re a part of that process. Rolling your eyes at his remark you cross your arms sulkily over your chest, eyes turning to stare at the floor in one last ditch attempt to make him drop it. It could really use a scrub, you think. It only delays the inevitable as he stands unmoved, shifting in his stance to lean against the counter too. He’s in it for the long haul, so you have no choice but to give in. “What’s wrong?” He asks again when you look at him miserably. “Now that my shoulder is better, there’s no real reason for me to be here anymore,” you murmur wistfully. You knew it would come to this eventually, yet you never seemed to make peace with it. You thought you had, but it turned out to be nothing more than a silly facade to try and hide the fact you didn’t want to leave. Alucard is silent, but the look of shock on his face speaks volumes. He hadn’t even considered the idea that you would leave. Like you, he had fallen into the routine of navigating around you and your ways, as if you had always been there at the castle. It’s just so easy and even when he had tried to fight it he found himself becoming even more compelled by you. “I suppose so,” he answers finally, crestfallen. A lump forms in your throat when you look at him, seeing how dejected he appears. “I’m sorry.” It’s pitiful, but you don’t know what else to say. To impose yourself further on him and his hospitality after he had already saved your life just seemed selfish and yet it felt as equally unkind to simply abandon him. He chuckles, a sad, sardonic sound beneath its silken lilt. “There’s no need to be,” he states, oddly cold despite the softness of his voice, “after all, there’s no reason for you to stay anymore is there?” It hurts. You don’t want it to and you know that you have no right to be but it penetrates deep, twisting and taking root inside. “No,” your whisper, scared your voice will break, “I guess not.” Confused, Alucard regards your drop in mood. He had anticipated that you would be happy to finally be able to continue on with your life, no longer bound to him or the castle for care of your injury. Yet here you stand, trying so hard to keep yourself from breaking. Your eyes glisten and you catch your lip between your teeth; all telltale signs. Alucard realizes with alarming clarity that he’s upset you, because you don’t want to leave. Just like he doesn’t want you to go, either. It was defensive, to lash out, and all it’s done is serve as further reasoning for you to remove yourself from his life. He’s such an idiot. “Wait,” he suddenly says and it breaks his heart, as dead as he had considered it to be, when you look at him with such a forlorn expression. You aren’t sure what to expect but you force yourself not to hope, knowing that it could and most likely would bite you. So you’re pleasantly surprised when it’s not what you anticipated at all. “Do you,” he starts, awkwardly, voice alight with

trepidation, “not want to go?” With wide eyes you regard him, startled. Hearing it out in the open so brazenly has your mind stuttering, your body stiff. Of course it was true, but that wasn’t what had you shocked. It was the fact that, for a brief moment, you saw relief flash in his eyes. But maybe you were wrong. Or maybe he was wrong. You stare at one another in silence, neither able to break the stalemate of truths exposed. In such a relatively short time you’d both grown accustomed to each other's presence and, if you were being completely honest, you were scared to leave the safety of the castle. Out there you were just one woman, no allies, no home, nothing. It’s sobering to know that your situation hadn’t changed since the first time he had asked you about leaving, what you would do and where would you go once you were healed and you’re not quite sure you’re ready to admit how pathetic it made you feel. “No,” you swallow thickly, blinking away stubborn tears, “I don’t.” You remind him of a child, afraid. You’re trying to make yourself as small as you can, no doubt hoping that the ground would open up beneath your feet and swallow you whole. It stirs something in him, the memory of a feeling brought on by your plight; the night that his mother was burned alive and his father turned his back on humanity as a whole. The same feeling he felt when Sumi and Taka betrayed him. Lost. A sorrowful, imploring look flits across Alucard's face and his fingers itch, wanting to offer you comfort. His mother would run her fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words of encouragement to help lift his spirits. “Then you don’t have to go anywhere.” Alucard offers instead, afraid of what such tenderness may invite. Your warmth still set him on edge, but slowly and surely he was coming around to the idea of being as he once was; open and inviting without the need to guard himself. If there was anyone he could see himself opening up to again it would be you. “I have been ignorant to your situation,” he sighs, looking away in shame, “I should have known how difficult it is to pick up the pieces of one's life after they’ve been shattered, especially without help. I’m— I’m sorry.” It’s a quiet admission, shrouded in misery and mystery. He had yet to reveal much about himself, but you could fathom that he had been the receiver of much sorrow in his lifetime so far from the darkness he carried with him like a ball and chain. It tugged at your heart to see him so isolated from the very world itself, threatening to tear it apart. You quickly swipe at your eyes, trying in vain to banish the tears that broke free, warm trails lining your cheeks. “Don’t be, Alucard,” you inhale deeply, trying to ground yourself. You can’t stand the sudden look of guilt on his face for making you cry. “I should have told you about how I felt,” your voice trembles and you scowl at yourself, feeling silly, “I should have been honest instead of hiding it away like an idiot.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest you try to focus on something else, though it’s hard when all you can see blurs with your tears. You angrily wipe at them, frustrated, until your hands are gently taken away by his, the grasp warm and comforting. “I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he murmurs, looking over your face with a gentle expression. Your mouth is slightly parted with shock and your eyes, rimmed red and shimmering, are wide and locked onto him. “I think you’re so very human.” The tenderness in which the words are said, and the endearing meaning behind them, sends your heart soaring and you can’t help the smile that comes to your lips. A soft, breathless laugh passes your lips with ease, the tension leaving your shoulders. Your tears start anew and for a moment Alucard thinks he’s done something wrong, but from the way your laughter mingles with your shaky breaths he knows that isn’t the case. He, too, smiles at the warmth seeping back into you, the dark melancholy that had hung over you like a veil lifting and he lets go of your hands slowly. Neither of you comment on the way

you long for the contact to return; the simple, fragile bond inspiring a sense of yearning. “Are you alright?” He asks once you seem to have regained control of yourself, your tears having stopped and your gentle peels of laughter melting away. “I am,” you hum, looking at him with an intense fondness that he had seldom seen before. You are so bright in that moment, all because he has given you a place to belong, and it gives him hope. If only his father could have had such a chance, perhaps things may have turned out differently for him.

[antihero-writings]

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch7)

(^^ Art commissioned from Junki Sakuraba on instagram and deviantart!!)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too. The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Notes: Hey all! I am SO sorry this chapter took so long to come out. My perfectionism really got the best of me with this chapter. But I saw that S4 was on its way and that really lit a fire under my butt because I really do want to post my season 3 chapter before s4 comes out. I’m highly doubt I’ll accomplish it as it almost always takes me longer than I have to get a chapter out, let alone two, but I'll try, at least.

I really really hope you enjoy it!! If you enjoy this chapter, please please consider commenting. I assure you it’ll be more likely I’ll post the next chapter faster the more people comment on this showing you still enjoy this fic. Each comment is a little shot of energy and motivation for me.

Important! This chapter is meant to have aesthetic indentation in some places. So if you want to read it as-intended, please look it at on Archiveofourown at I_prefer_the_term_antihero on your computer or tablet!!

If you get here and are thinking “Wait, what was this fic about? What were the main themes?” then this would be a good time to reread/skim back through the earlier chapters. This is the climax of the fic and will (hopefully) be more impactful the more you remember about the rest of the fic and its many themes.

Chapter Summary:

"Go back whence you came! Trouble the soul of my Mother no more!" "How? How—How is it that I've been so defeated?" "You have been doomed ever since you lost the ability to love." "Ha—Ah... Sarcasm. 'For what profit is it to a man if he gains the world, and loses his own soul?' Matthew 16:26, I believe. "Tell me. What—What were Lisa's last words?" "She said 'Do not hate humans. If you cannot live with them, then at least do them no harm. For theirs is already a hard lot'. She also said to tell you that she would love you for all of eternity." "Lisa, forgive me. Farewell my son."

Chapter 7: “Heart”

Hey there, Sunshine, the Room adds with a smile.

The Room forgot the sweet tang of breath. How gentle, how vicious. Like honey, like relief, like a cozy blanket and a fireplace. It came in great, gulping gasps, and living was painful after such long breathlessness, but hurt far less than being half dead.

The Room rushes to Castlevania, shaking it, saying, Open your eyes! Open your eyes! It’s Adrian. It’s our boy. My master. My sunlight. And Castlevania limply flickers open its eyes, for it cannot help but obey.

Obey to see the golden man standing in its doorway.

And it feels a jolt of warmth in its broken chest.

Alucard has returned home. He arrives at the doorstep with resolve in his closed fists and a sword on his tongue. The threat to the war they all knew he would be, and the Room promised it would rear him to be.

But he isn’t alone this time.

There are two humans by his side. One with fire in her fists—quite literally—the other with a barbed tongue at his hip.

Castlevania recognizes a crest on the clothing of one of them, gold and proud: The Belmonts. The ones who came with whips and scourges to defeat its master long ago. The ones whom Dracula and his Castle were bound together against in their undead war. The ones whom Dracula trusted his Castle to protect him from. The owner of the hold now beneath Castlevania. He has come to defeat its master like the rest…but this time the boy is by his side, and for that reason, the Castlevania is unsure how this will end.

“I terrify them,” the Belmont explains the plan, “Sypha disorients them, Alucard goes over the top and we support him.”

“Yes.” The Speaker confirms.

Alucard holds his sword out horizontally in front of him, unsheathes it, and speaks:

“Begin.”

Alucard is with the Belmont.

And Castlevania knows when it sees them, the fire in their eyes, that they are the intent that brought it here. That they have indeed come to kill its master once and for all. It had wished when the boy returned, it would be with the promise of hope. But there is no promise of life and the sparing of it this time.

They bring death inside with them; the war room is filled with war, blood and burns on its floors, but it is different this time, because this is not an ambiance, a continuation, a fact of life, it is a swift and fatal kiss—the end they said he would bring, once. The blood is rotten on the floors, but it doesn’t itch or burn. And the boy uses those techniques his father taught him on brighter nights about turning into things with teeth, and the ones his mother once taught him on sunnier days about how to make metal listen.

They did not bring life inside this time, not life of the same kind at least. The war, the death, has followed and swallowed them too, but not in the same way it has its master. They are not bloodthirsty. The cold the dark and the death are merely clothes they wear, they have not reached the deepest parts of them; there are still light-starved Rooms in their hearts waiting to breathe.

There is a song at their heels as they dance in rings of fire, with the wind and the moon, upon the blood and water Castlevania isn’t sure will come out of the carpet. It is a song that is all too familiar. It has been played here before, when other, more, less, holy Belmonts barged in long ago. A song of blood and tears.

Bloody tears its master cried once, for his wife when he realized they had taken something that could not be borrowed, bartered, or souled.

They’re bringing an end to the strife, and all the undead lives that facilitated it, and vice versa. They are cutting the puppet strings, and not all puppets can live without them.

Isaac fights the nameless soldiers on the staircase for its master…until he sees someone who is far from nameless.

Isaac’s reddened eyes meet Alucard’s golden ones. Alucard’s sword aims at him, but it hits the deadened flesh of the nameless instead.

Isaac runs to tell its master—Dracula, busy ripping out the heart of a nameless—who’s here; that his sun has returned, and at his side is magic and might.

Dracula knows the prophecy.

He’s willing to die—Issac. He stands before Dracula, his form barely able to shield three-quarters of Dracula’s, willing to give his feeble human life for Dracula’s indefinite undead one. He believes knowledge and will are more important than the blood of a good man. He believes in love, and loyalty is love of a sort. And it is Castlevania’s understanding that when someone is willing to live for something, they are also willing to die for it. This is the noblest of causes.

“You are the greatest of your people, Isaac. You have a soul, I think.” As Dracula says the words, he raises his hand, and the mirror shards behind them begin to rise. “Perhaps that is more valuable to the world to come than a dusty collection of books and apparatus.”

Lisa looks on from the portrait, and Castlevania thinks it is a look of pride. She always did stand for saving human lives rather than destroying them. Isn’t it funny that in what will perhaps be the deciding battle of this war, the one where his goals should possess him stronger than ever, it is the human who he values more than himself?

“Or perhaps you simply deserve a better fate than to die instead of me.”

“I choose my death, as I chose my life.” The words are stronger than iron.

“Then I regret only that I have taken a choice for you.” A hand at his shoulder.

Dracula throws him halfway across the world, to the kind of place Isaac was born in, and the kind of place Isaac least wants to die in.

Isaac believes in love. And it is for this reason, this belief, that Vlad saves his life, Castlevania knows. Saves his life, by denying the choice he so desperately wanted to make—perhaps his whole life—and had no regrets or apprehensions about making, rather a lot more in being kept alive.

And when the mirror shatters and falls, his son is standing there, like he did a year ago, though this time he is not backed by sunlight. The only light in the room is the fire glinting in his eyes.

A pause. To remember the dead.

“Father.”

A word. To remember the living.

“Son.”

This should be a reunion, perhaps. Better people would think they should happily hug each other, and say they missed each other, and that they love each other all the same. Better people would say that the sunlight should plead with the dark to come back into its embrace. All the sinners know there was no chance of that the moment Dracula scrawled fate on his son’s skin with his own claws.

Instead, there is nothing but bitter, fighting words:

“Your war is over.”

Dracula tilts his head to the side. “Because you say so?”

“It ends.” Alucard looks at his sword, the one she taught him how to use. “In the name of my mother.”

Dracula looks at his son, the one she gave him. “It endures in the name of your mother.”

“I told you before I won’t let you do it.” Alucard’s voice is so soft, yet solid and unwavering. There is no anger, but he will not step aside. Not this time. Even when the claws come. “I grieve with you…but I won’t let you commit genocide.”

“You couldn’t stop me before.” Dark assurance in soft words.

Footsteps. A cue to the magic and the hunt behind the curtain, who step out on either side of him.

“I was alone before.”

And Castlevania understands. Understands that they are not here to talk things out. Understands that they are not here to save Dracula, to appeal to the good in him, as Lisa once had, and the Room once thought. Castlevania itself even hoped, when the boy returned, the song would be a bit more inspirational. But, beaten and broken and bloody, Castlevania understands now, if Alucard stands with the intent, if Alucard brought a Belmont—

Then they do not believe there is a chance. They are not here then, to talk him out of it. They are here to halt this war in its tracks, make it rear up, lose its balance, and fall.

—(And Castlevania knows, deep down, that to do this… they must end something else)—

Alucard is bringing back the sunlight. But there is only one way he can do that, and goodnight is not quiet.

And make no mistake he does intend to bring the full, the warm, the life, and the light back, just like Castlevania and the Room wanted. But there is too much cold, dark, death, and emptiness here to do this quietly. They are here to kill Dracula—the master now puppeteered by Death’s strings rather than his own soul.

The Speaker raises her fingers to her lips as if to say a prayer, or perhaps take a heavenly name in vain for the sake of a little silence. The Belmont’s whip clinks in his hand. Alucard’s sword sings as he raises it.

Alucard drives it towards his father: a bolt of golden lightning through the room, pinning him against the fireplace as books fall to the floor. Castlevania, wincing at the pain, knows that will bruise in the morning.

The picture of his mother cracks and falls, as if she has to close her eyes for this.

Alucard, growling with fierce resolve, pushing the sword into him with all his might. But Dracula has the sword in his hand, rather than his heart. He steps calmly forward, barely having to use any of his strength to combat so much of his son’s, as if he’s about to tell him to put the toy away.

A glint of golden eyes. Alucard pulls back the sword. A slash. Two. Three.

Dracula raises his arm as if to knock the sword from his shoulder.

Instead he bashes his son’s head into the fireplace—and Castlevania cries out at the feeling, feeling its stomach burn.

The Speaker and the Belmont ready for a fight. The floor splinters—(Castlevania grimaces, tasting blood)—as Dracula flashes through the room, and pins the Belmont into the hall, against the wall, sending his sword out of his hand. He keels over onto his hands to cough up blood, the puddle crawling on Castlevania’s skin.

Castlevania never had any qualms with the blood of Belmonts on its floors before, so this hurts less, but this is different, and Castlevania still wonders if Dracula could be a little gentler with his Castle.

A flash of light at his side. He raises his cloak as the Speaker sends tongues and teeth of fire at him.

“Speaker magician!” Its master realizes.

He rushes at her, knocking her hand out of position. She creates an ice shard before her with the other.

He scratches up with a claw, sending her flying with the broken pieces towards the ceiling, and angry gashes appear on her arm as she rolls along the floor.

“Sypha!” The Belmont calls.

He must love her in some way, because in a fit of some sort of emotion—instead of picking up his sword—the Belmont uses his fists. They probably haven’t failed him before. But this is Dracula, and his punches don’t cause the king to so much as flinch.

“You must be the Belmont.”

Castlevania laughs a little at the words; it too thought the method was rather common of his line.

It’s Dracula’s turn, and his punch doesn’t just cause the Belmont to flinch, the sound is as if he hit rock, sending him into the air with the force. He doesn’t give him a second to breathe, rather reaches his claw is around the human’s neck, holding him there.

He raises his other claw level—a blade, more trustworthy than any.

“The end of your line.”

Before he can make these words true, another blade stops him: his son’s, driving itself through both his arms.

While he is pinned the Speaker, knowing this is an opportunity she will not get again, rushes forward—still bleeding, mind—a bead of fire between her fingers. Dracula cannot move to protect himself, and the magician, knowing this, lets the fire loose to lick his face raw.

Dracula drops the Belmont, attempting to get away, deciding his own life takes precedence, but it is hard to get away when your hands are tied together with metal.

The Speaker, seeing that her fire is about to hit Alucard, falters. And in that moment Dracula wrenches his arm off of the blade and uses it to knock her down, before sending his other fist into his son, who goes flying along with his sword hitting the wall. This one may not be so hard as to bruise, but, with everything aching and breaking, the smallest tap hurts Castlevania.

The Belmont pulls a blade of bone from his back-belt, and as Dracula turns he drives it into his chest.

It’s not close enough to his heart, but red distaste fills Dracula’s eyes. He thought this was a game, but they have some amount of ability, and he may have underestimated them. As Alucard and the magician get up he attempts to grab at the Belmont in quick motions, but he has some skill in dodging.

The Speaker rips off her shirt and cauterizes her wound as the Belmont and Dracula dance in the hallway, neither weapon hitting flesh.

Dracula sees the Speaker’s intent over his shoulder, and as the Belmont lunges at him grabs his arm and throws him into her, stopping both their attacks. An effective move, if Castlevania does say so itself.

Alucard sees his opening and rushes forward, pinning his father to the wall, which shatters behind them with a painful lurch.

Dracula puts his hands together and brings them down over his son’s head with such force the floor cracks.

And Castlevania coughs blood.

Alucard pushes his arms away and slaps both sides of his face, getting a grunt this time. Dracula sends him back with such force it almost seems like a shockwave, creating wind and smoke curling around them all.

The Speaker roots him in place by sending ice spears into his leg. The Belmont clears the smoke by spinning his whip, before creating more by sending that whip—the one he fed the vampires that didn’t agree with their compositions—sizzling into Dracula’s chest. There’s an explosion to be sure—a rather big one—but after the smoke dissipates, and a wait with bated breath, Dracula is still standing just as he was before—as Castlevania knew he would—like all he threw at him were words.

…At least at first, to show he isn’t taken down so easily. He does fall to his hands thereafter.

“The Morningstar whip.” The words are scratches in the carpet. “Well played, Belmont. But I am no ordinary vampire to be killed by your human magics.” The words sizzle on his tongue. “I am Vlad Dracula Tepes,” he crosses his arms with purpose. “and I have had ENOUGH!”

His voice is a shockwave of its own across the sea of stone and bone. He sweeps his hands to the sides, his cloak rising like wings as he floats into the air, and creates a ball of magma: the cheat that will end the game. He was going easy on them until now.

It rumbles towards them, eating the carpet as it goes—and Castlevania can feel the burning in its chest. The Belmont’s eyes widen with fear at last. The Speaker rises to the occasion without hesitation, and holds out her hands to stop it with the force of her magic. It’s a force to be reckoned with, for sure: at first she succeeds, but, though it may be slowing, it isn’t stopping, and her feet are slipping. The Belmont puts his back to hers, as any good friend and comrade would. Alucard phases in front of them, the burning wind rushing against his face. He calls his sword, which sings as it reaches his hand, poises it, and drives the point into the magma ball.

They each fight with all their might, the Belmont and the speaker begins to grunt with the weight of it. The ball gives a falter their way, and Castlevania is sure even three cannot match Dracula’s strength, but the Speaker gives a final push, which gives Alucard just the right amount of momentum to drive it back toward his father, who is as caught off guard by the display as Castlevania is. He needs no sword or magic to stop it, however, and puts his hands out to hold it. Gold and red push against each other, until Alucard gives a deciding motion, then another, another, each chipping away at the ball until the sword goes flying and it’s just Alucard’s arm against Dracula’s throat, and their momentum creates a sizzling tunnel in the wall.

Castlevania may not know what guns are, but it knows what it feels like to be shot.

The two burst into the library, shattering the already shattered mirror.

It was so quiet in here. Must they sully the silence with the sound of strife? They read here, once. Sometimes alone, sometimes to each other. Whispered to each other of history and mystery.

Dracula lands on the floor and Alucard floats above him in the room in which he once stood on his level and told his father calmly he wouldn’t stand for genocide.

There’s anger in his eyes now.

Dracula hisses, then gives a war cry, and the two allow their hungry fists to attempt to devour each other as best they can in the air, red and gold flashing.

The Belmont picks up a sword in the other room and, deciding it’d be best not to follow them through the tunnel—(Castlevania is glad for that decision. The wound is still raw and would more than likely sting tremendously if they walked on it)—he and the Speaker run up the stairs to follow them.

They’re on the floor now and their punches fly like starlings—their duel reflected in the shards of mirror fluttering, jittering about, ever awaiting their command, as if attempting to tap their shoulders and ask what they should do, and why they are hurting each other—until they are hitting the bookshelves they once were gentle with—lest the pages rip and the silence tear—the ones they once smiled and discussed philosophy beside.

Castlevania’s head aches, nausea in the back of its throat.

A smiling boy and his father handing him another book, saying if he liked the first he’d like the second too, are all but gone now.

Dracula throws Alucard into the ceiling, and enters the room above with an unearthly sound, in an unearthly way: only his cloak is visible, moving like slime. As his hungry footsteps lick the floor behind him, Alucard is heaving on his side that same floor, his hair falling across his face. He turns around, fear coating the sound he makes as he, without his sword, grabs the nearest block of wood that happens to have a point on the end.

Dracula laughs, like they’re playing a game—(they did once, do they remember? Humans and monsters. Sometimes there were princes, and knights, or pirates. Even a princess or two. And the wolves and the bats were free in the night wind)—and stops.

“You mean to stake me?”

“You want me to.” Alucard murmurs, turning around with some difficulty.

“What?” Dracula chuckles, still with that put-the-toys-away intonation.

“You didn’t kill me before.” Alucard breathes. “You’re not going to kill me now. You want this to end as much as I do.” The look in his eyes is almost crazed.

“DO I?!” The tone is almost crazed in response, the nonchalant edge gone, the words resounding with power and grief.

Alucard scrambles away like an animal, causing Dracula to punch the floor instead of his head—Castlevania’s body lurches. It feels a gentle touch at its chin, someone trying to wipe the blood off perhaps.

“You died when my mother died. You know you did.” He reasons as Dracula’s breathing gains weight. “This entire catastrophe has been nothing but history’s longest suicide note.”

Castlevania jerks its head up, eyes wide at these words.

And Castlevania understands.

The cold, the dark, the empty, the death. They all make sense now.

Alucard rushes at him, Dracula knocks the stake out of Alucard’s hand with ease, but, in a moment of extreme dexterity, Alucard manages to grab it from the air and drive it into his chest still. The look in his eyes is almost pleading, like he’s going to ask “Daddy did I do a good job? Did I do it right? I’ve gotten better at fighting haven’t I?”

“Not quite close enough.” There is a gurgling quality to Dracula’s enunciation.

No more playing.

He shoves Alucard so hard its into the next room.

Castlevania keels over onto the floor, it’s stomach aching and prickling.

Dracula pulls the stake out and heaves before rushing after.

Floors below the magician and the Belmont can hear them, and are trying their best to catch up, to have a say in this fight.

But Castlevania isn’t sure they have much chance of that, as they are flashing through the halls now, Alucard, a foot off the ground, zig-zagging between the walls in the narrow hall as Dracula keeps punching bloodless stone—

—(The stone may be bloodless, but god this hurts)—

Until Alucard punches him back, sending them into a room, a bedroom—(but not that one)—and the room is a pile of rubble with just that. And Castlevania can feel the splinters. That furniture was nice.

Dracula grabs Alucard’s face and shoves him into the dining room, pinning him to the table like he’ll eat him too if they’re not careful, and those chairs were perfectly nice too—

And Castlevania sees a little boy waiting at the table for his birthday surprise, and his father pulling out a burned cake, and his mother laughing. There was no fear then. Though its master was a creature of blood it never thirsted for theirs, and they knew this full well. Can they see it too? Why would they destroy this room if they did? Why would they destroy each other if they did? Are they even the same creatures as those in the memory?

At this point Castlevania is pretty sure they broke a few of its ribs.

Alucard kicks his face and gets on the table on all fours, rushing him into the next room still.

Castlevania’s bleeding, broken heart skips a beat. Surely they must have broken a few ribs, for how else could they get into Castlevania’s heart? The control room, where its gears still lie dripping, glowing as orange as a brand, once beating organs now blazing stalactites.

They punch each other along the platform, Dracula’s cloak whipping about, like a cat’s fur trying to make him look bigger and scarier.

They are framed in the paneless window—those bones have been all but broken too now. The frame where the picture—that is to say, the die—no longer sits. For Castlevania’s heart didn’t just break, it was destroyed when they brought it to this place, the place where its enemies once lived, and still stand today.

—(So why can Castlevania still feel it beat?)—

In the frame now is moon drunk on blood, a night soaked in tears—and the wind whispers to their cloaks, bidding them to whip around them.

Dracula draws in a hissing breath.

Alucard stands tall, his eyes aglow, gold melting into something new in this forge, his hair whipping about him as he raises his fist yet again.

They are getting tired. Their snarls have a weakened quality to them now.

—Can they see the father and son in this room, the father teaching his son that his Castle is special?—

But instead of just punching him, Alucard teleports beside his father, hitting his shoulder, sending a gust of wind to his face, then teleports around the room to send his fist into him over and over, from every possible angle, and some of his kick-offs create cracks in the already breaking bindings of the room.

It feels like pins and needles, but it’s okay. It’s okay.

Why?

Dracula’s grits his teeth, sharp as ever, his eyes alight with bloody determination, his hair playing about this gaze. To end it, on the next hit he grabs his face, shoving him by it onto the stone platform. He shoves him once, twice, a third, the metal cracking, the metal creaking—

Castlevania’s gut lurches, and it can taste bile and iron at the back of its throat, and it’s hard to breathe.

Then its master raises Alucard back up, holds him by the face in the air a moment, and punches him with such force he is blown across the length of the platform and through the thick stone wall into the next room—

And Castlevania vomits blood.

Dracula bolts after him, the dust creating patterns in his wake—and Castlevania could gaze in the clouds if it weren’t for whoever’s trying to slap it awake.

Alucard coughs, and it sounded deep.

Its master is nothing human now. There’s a growl in his throat as he marches towards him, and another cough in Alucard’s as he struggles to stand.

Another punch, but this one is not fast like the rest, nor is it blocked. Alucard tries to stand up, to rush towards him, but he is getting tired, and Dracula hits him again. Another growl. Alucard takes a single step back, soft against the floors. An exhale. Another of both, and as Dracula raises his fist the murmur—plea?—on his son’s lips sounds a lot like “Father,” as if he’s reached his limit, and has to stop the game.

It’s too late to hit quit now.

The vampire king doesn’t grant the plea—or perhaps even hear it; with a belabored punch he sends him into the next Room, rolling this time, instead of flying, the contents of the Room staying in tact…all except the bed, which catches the boy.

The next Room. But this one is not like the rest. It is not just a room.

This one breathes.

A gasp, another growl, a scratch against the wall, and—

Castlevania burned today in this bloody fight, on this bloody night. Its skin, its legs. Even its heart broke.

Castlevania. The thing that Vlad Tepes brought to life with a little bit of lightning, several gears, and a few words. No magic words, just words: the ones he spoke on lonely nights to the walls about how he’d like to be something more than ruthless.

Castlevania did everything it could. It lies burned and broken and unable to fight now because of it.

But none of that burned half as much as those scratches on its walls.

There have been many stories told about Dracula, and there will one day be more stories told about Dracula, books written, enough that one could fill libraries with just the retellings of his story. And Castlevania has no doubt that one day these scratches will be on their covers. This growl, these scratches are the signet of a vampire, of a monster: the disfigurement of his Castle, bloody intent directed at his son. The dark, the death, and the emptiness have overtaken completely. That is all a monster is, really. That is all he is now.

He marches into the Room, his cloak flowing, dipping and twirling in the broken wind. The sound of Alucard’s breathing fills the Room as he heaves against the bed.

Or maybe the breath is the Room’s own.

The Room has seen all that happened, it has been watching Castlevania beaten bloody till it could barely breathe, or see through the blood dripping down its face, let alone move. Castlevania could barely feel the comforting hands on it, the attempts to bandage the wounds, or at least stop the bleeding that it knew could only belong to the Room. Castlevania could barely hear the Room’s frantic, desperate calls to action, to get up, or just ask if it was okay. And now the Room stands, fists clenched at its sides. The Room wants to fight back. It will fight back.

The Room is not violent. From the very beginning it stood against all the violence, the dark, the empty, and the death. That was what it was made for, after all. As much as it would like to, it does not wrap its hand around Dracula’s throat, claws digging until it draws blood, and demand “How does it feel?! How does it feel to be on the receiving end?!”

The Room’s footsteps are soft as it comes up beside Dracula. It puts its hands over the king’s eyes and whispers in his ear, gently as it can:

“Remember me?”

Then, quietly as it came, it removes them, as if playing peekaboo, revealing that it was there the whole time, his eyes were just covered for a while.

It may as well have been removing scales, because Dracula freezes, his eyes wide, as if he’s seeing, not just the Room, but the whole world for the first in a long time—And he is. The first time with living eyes. And one sees things very differently with living eyes. And Castlevania was his world and it hopes he sees the world differently, for Castlevania is not a thing for him to beat and break. Just when Castlevania thought there was nothing left…there is something more than anger in his eyes now.

Dracula’s angry cloak quiets, falling docile at his feet: a sign of reverence towards the Room, and all it stands for.

Alucard, after allowing his breath to regain itself, looks up, his eyes widening too at his father. His father. No anger, no fear, not even determination now. Not in this Room. This Room is different. He remembers now: in the hush that has fallen across the world like freshly fallen snow, this is his father.

The Room kneels at it’s boy’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder feeling nothing but life and love, so much so it extends to the creature that created the scars on its throat, and on its boy’s chest.

“It’s okay. You can go to him now.” The Room says.

And it knows what that means.

It knows that sometimes peace comes at the price of war.

Dracula curls his hand, the one with the claw that just made marks on the walls that are written in stone, and will never be undone. Within the glow of the window, his reddened eyes too are no longer angry. For so long those eyes sat dormant, empty, and glazed in his skull and at last they contain something. The Room’s words have gotten through the glaze, shattered the glass.

“It’s your Room.”

It’s more than just a statement. He made a promise when he made this Room. This Room was to be his son’s Room. There would be no violence, not in this Room. Not ever. Not today in as much as not ten years ago. He will not hurt this Room. He will not dare touch it, for fear those claws will mark more than just the walls; that all the memories will come crashing down.

The words are not angry. They are not dark. They are not empty. They are not dead. They may seem dry, and stated, but they are dripping with such longing and loss it might fill the whole Castle.

The desk where Vlad taught Adrian of letters, and of numbers, and of the borders of the world. The wardrobe where Lisa dressed him up in fine clothes, and casual ones depending on the occasion—Dracula had so few special occasions to celebrate alone, they were a lovely thing. The bookshelf full of all the knowledge of immortals, and the stories of mortals. The carpet where the boy sat and played with his toys. The nightstand, still with a potion bottle upon it, and the cards of a game they’ve no doubt forgotten how to play, right where they left it long ago. The shelf above it with another bottle, and a tiny satchel of even tinier precious things, and a little toy lamb. The bed upon which Vlad and Lisa once sat and told stories, and sang lullabies, or else lay curled up next to him when the nightmares got too vicious to bear alone.

—(How many did he have to face alone?)—

And Castlevania can see them all. The father teaching his son to count, and to write. The mother running after her naked toddler, trying to convince him clothes really aren’t so bad. The careful pouring of the potions so they change color, or explode just right, the father smiling proudly when he gets the questions correct. The pride of the mother when her son won the game, and the way her husband said “again” like if they just played another round he would win this time. The boy playing with the lamb and the wolf; they they got along in his stories.

The control room never was Castlevania’s heart…was it?

Alucard stands—the motion fluid now—blue light caressing his face as he raises his eyes. Vlad too looks up. But they’re not looking at each other, or the Room, rather into the stars. Not the ones outside, the ones they painted—brushing paint upon each other’s noses, so long ago, and Castlevania can see that too—as if those stars hold all the bottled wishes of childhood. It always was crowning jewel of this Room.

Adrian’s eyes oscillate like perturbed waters, because he knows, he knows he’s about to lose it all. And yes, there’s a sort of childlike yearning in Adrian’s eyes, as if he’s wishing upon those stars that he didn’t have to do this, because he’d really rather find another way to spend this night.

The stars wipe the bloodstains off of Dracula’s eyes. The blood drains off the moon too, as if he is so powerful he can bid the sky to bleed.

His lips shake with long-forgotten words—(or maybe they were just buried, and not everything buried in a grave stays there)—and he holds his hands to his chest, if nothing else to stop them from hurting innocent boys and castles, and shuts his eyes.

“My boy.” The words are said like everything in him is breaking

And it is.

—(The control room never was Castlevania’s heart. Does that mean it never broke?)—

“I’m—I…” The word falls to the floor, so soft, like it’s the only apology he has to shed. “I’m… I’m killing my boy.” And the truth is so gentle and broken its almost more painful than all those punches to the walls.

He steps across the Room, and this time his footsteps are not foreboding, not marching nor stalking. They are soft. He is only walking. This boy is not his prey. Not in this Room.

He walks to the picture on the wall, the one called “Happy.”

Castlevania remembers the day they took it home. The painter really did do a good job, Lisa had said, and Castlevania agreed. Castlevania soon learned that even when they were not here, even when the boy was not small, even when they were not happy, that moment would still be captured upon the wall to return to any time they missed it. Long ago Dracula had no need of pictures and paintings. But those pictures have been everything to him, and everything left him, now that Lisa is gone. They are all the traces left of what they once were in this Castle. That picture—the one Dracula buried and tried to forget existed—that picture bottled happiness, and it gives Vlad back his happiness now. And it makes him so very sad.

“Lisa. I’m killing our boy.” Vlad says to the memory. “We painted this Room. We…made these toys.”

His eyes as they dart around the Room—to the books, to the basket with the wolf and the blocks—are glazed, but not in the same way as before, this time it is with memory, and that makes them more alive than ever, as are his words. And in that moment she is alive too, and he is Vlad, Lisa’s husband, and Adrian’s father.

“It’s our boy, Lisa.”

And then as he looks down his eyes are not glazed at all, rather they hold understanding. He understands what must be done.

Alucard’s foot pushes off the ground, bends the knee, stands, and, no, he is not Adrian, for there is a cracking, a cracking like lightning, a cracking like the world breaking.

And it is the most horrible sound either the Room or Castlevania have ever heard. More horrible than the squelching any heart Dracula ever ripped out. More horrible than the desperate pleas of his victims. More horrible than the cackles of his friends. More horrible than the crying of the child that Castlevania can still hear echoing through the Room.

—(The sound Castlevania hated so so long ago, and now longs for far more than anything else in the world, longs for that painting to swallow the universe and bring it to life again)—

Castlevania and the Room can both feel that sound like a thousand splinters and spider bites, like both of them shattering as if they were made of glass after all. Even the furniture here bleeds.

Vlad backs up, putting his hands over his face—Don’t hurt them, they don’t know what they’re doing—

—(Yet…he hurt them all. So much so he didn’t just disgrace her words, he tried to kill her gift, their son, her blood)—

“Your greatest gift to me. And I’m killing him.”

He lifts his hands from his face and looks into his son’s eyes, his own so alive, despite their glass, tilting his head to the side. Everything slow and gentle now. He is Vlad. He is Adrian’s father. Not the vampire king who put innocents on stakes. But they all know something happened to Vlad on the night Lisa died.

“I must already be dead.”

And Castlevania, burned and bleeding, understands. The final piece of the puzzle has been put into place. It has been dead too. It’s life, bound in red to its master, will break to the call of a stake. Because a reflection cannot exist without the thing it reflects.

Because…they are mortal.

That was the trade, all those years ago: immortality for mortality. Lisa would gain an immortal mind, and Dracula a mortal soul. He would teach Lisa the knowledge of immortals, the methods of healing that must be kept secret to live with a vampire like time held no grip on them. And she would teach him how to live as a man, how to travel as a man, how to care for his son, as a man, as a father. And in that moment his soul was bound to hers.

She brought the undeath in him to life, and Castlevania understands; only things that are alive can die.

It learned through Lisa, through Adrian, what it was to be alive. And it knew that undeath, while not death, is not life. Dracula was undead and his body could not die. But now that she brought him to life, he could die. His soul already died with her. He’s been rotting in an empty shell—no wonder Death could tie those puppet strings to him. That’s why the emptiness in him was so active; cold and dark and empty were only adjectives before, now they are nouns; he was emptiness, death, walking around. And that, too, is what Castlevania has become. It too is mortal. It didn’t die with her, but something in it ceased to tick when Dracula came back without a soul in his chest, and it knows, bruised and burned, broken, and bleeding that that stake in his son’s hand is calling them both.

You knew all along, didn’t you? Castlevania asks the Room, and there is no malice, no blame, there.

The Room jerks its head up to look at Castlevania, then its eyes soften and it grimaces. I hoped I was wrong. The Room replies softly. I…I hoped there was another way.

Alucard’s eyes hold some sympathy, some semblance of the boy they once knew, in fact rather too much, for both threaten to pour out of those eyes and stop all this. He doesn’t want to. But it’s too late for anything else.

Vlad eyes hold some semblance of the man they once knew, so much so they threaten to make him something more than ruthless, something that doesn’t deserve to die. He closes them tilting his head. He knows what must be done.

There is no anger in either of their eyes, no determination, not even resolve. Not anymore. Adrian wants to free his father in the only way he can.

A step forward, and this step has purpose, that stake is silently growling, drooling at his side as he stalks his prey. Another. Another. Like the beating of all their hearts, and the atmosphere is so silent that everything can only break.

And Dracula will not stop him, will not fight back. Not this time. Like all those times he let his son win, because even though he was more skilled at at the game, it was more satisfying to see Adrian smile.

He is not here to talk things out.

Alucard barely raises that stake—

A second horrible cracking, this one in flesh.

This time he aimed higher.

Dracula’s mouth fills with blood, it seeps through the cracks in his teeth. The blood from his chest drains down the stake—the broken piece of childhood—down his son’s arm, collecting on his elbow, and when it hits the carpet a burn begins to appear on the Room’s chest.

A grunt as Vlad leans forward, the blood dripping from his mouth to the floor—another angry gash upon the Room’s skin, and the Room is trying to pretend it’s okay, but it can’t hide the hurt in its eyes.

It knew what had to be done…but the violence goes against its nature.

His eyes fill with blood, but not from undead purpose. The moon is still clean. These are those bloody tears, the ones from the song earlier today. He is free, relieved…and he will never see his son again.

“Son.”

To remember the living, and those who will live on without him.

And the word is spoken very differently than it was earlier today. Then it was solid and hollow. Now it is ghostly, and so full it could hold all the world. Their world, at least.

This Room, this Castle, that word. They are their whole world.

And it is an honor to have been a world to such terrible, wonderful creatures.

“Father.”

To honor the dying, and what they once were while alive.

The word on Adrian’s tongue is the same, though more solid, more alive, and thus able to hold more pain. A faltering breath, a cracking forgiveness.

The word means something now, at the end, where before they were nothing more than titles. They are pleading with each other. They are bleeding with each other.

They don’t want to do this. They shouldn’t have to. It is far too cruel.

Mothers shouldn’t have to bury their daughters, and sons shouldn’t have to kill their fathers. It’s an unspoken rule of life.

But Alucard can’t stop there. He must finish this. The fire, the resolve regurgitates in his eyes, and he pushes harder, like with the magma ball, and, no, this cracking is worse, because Castlevania can feel it in its own chest now.

Castlevania can hear its master’s heartbeat, can feel it with the drops of blood dripping and sizzling on the floor, and it thinks it might just be its own heartbeat.

Alucard does not hate his father: there is pain on his face. But he cannot stop there.

He must end this war. And unlike those given with kisses to his forehead once, this goodnight is not gentle. Not this time.

He inhales,

closes his eyes,

and breaks his father’s chest.

That stake goes right through Castlevania, and something in it involuntary breaks.

The control room never was Castlevania’s heart. The destruction of the die was merely the amputation of both its legs, still bleeding out. This is a breaking, not of skin or bone, but of something deeper. It thinks this might just be what it feels like to cry.

And something happens in the breaking. A change of some sort. Castlevania isn’t quite sure what—pain and disorientation are the best of friends—all it knows is that the world is smaller now, and hurts less.

And as Castlevania’s heart breaks, the reflection in the painting shatters, the reflection of the bond between father and son severing with a stake.

The world is so much smaller now.

Dracula’s head jerks back and, eyes now seeing something other than this world.

Dracula is no ordinary vampire, so he does not die like an ordinary vampire. Rather than catching on fire, there’s just smoke and ash; his face drains, turning from ghostly pale to a charcoal, black without flame, before it really is ash, sliding off his face, his cloak like sludge.

There’s no orange, just the red stain, and the grey his life was marred of. Ash and smoke. The true undeath.

Alucard turns his face away, still holding the stake in place.

Dracula lifts up a hand, a skeleton hand, and Alucard turns to see the skin sloughing off around his ring. Though his spirit may have left, it seems his body won’t quite let go of this world; with mere bones Dracula reaches out, takes a step forward, as if to touch his face, to hold his son one last time, to catch the last embrace he was not afforded.

Adrian has shed that resolve, now he can do nothing but take slow and careful steps back away from the monster he has no sword or shield to fight. He the child again, the one who belonged in this Room, shying away. He is Adrian, the one who didn’t like the stories that were bloody. And in all the years the boy spent in this Room, the sheer fear in Adrian’s eyes as he looks up to see his father’s rotted face, with mouth agape, leaning bloodlessly towards him—an image that Castlevania fears will haunt him the rest of his days—is matchless.

Hurried footsteps at the door. The Speaker and the Belmont, at last, have made it to the show, though it seems they paid for only the final song. They step upon the threshold to see the rotting corpse of the king stepping towards his fearful, tearful price.

The Belmont draws his sword, and Dracula’s deflated head—the one that seemed so alive moments earlier—lies in a bloody pool on the floor. And as the neck bleeds and the Belmont watches the body fall to the floor, he isn’t sure if that was enough.

And Castlevania can’t feel its heartbeat anymore.

“Alucard. Step back.” Sypha’s voice is tempered. “Let me finish this.”

He does, the steps cautious and small, sorrow in his gaze. He holds the unbroken bedpost till his hand shakes.

Castlevania never liked children, the crying, the leaving, the guests, or being controlled.

But it did like Lisa. It did like Adrian. And—be it a sting—it did like the sunlight. And always and forever, it loved its master. A reflection cannot help but adore the thing it reflects. A creation cannot help but be a worshipper of its creator. A dream cannot help but revere its dreamer.

“You want me to.”

Smiling a little at how true the words were, in the end, Castlevania found it quite liked the relief.

Castlevania puts a hand on the Room’s cheek, smiling, and its mouth tastes less like blood now. It looks at the moon—bleeding no longer—and blue calm fills every part of it.

“What a wonderful night to have a curse.”

The Room stares at the castle, a little horrified by the sentiment.

“What…What should I do?” The Room stutters, fear and realization coating its words, for it knows what’s happening.

Castlevania smiles wider than ever, and its voice sounds softer; “The children.”

“What?”

“You should let them in. Any child who needs refuge. Along with as many guests as your master wants to welcome. And you should cry. Cry when you need to—and let your master cry too. Stay, but let him leave, if he must, knowing he will always come back. Let yourself be controlled at times, because sometimes that which feels the least right is the most right.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“Be warm. Let the light in every window. Be full, and most of all, live. Can you do that for me?”

The Room holds onto the Castle to keep it from falling, tears already descending its cheeks.

“I—I will try.”

The Speaker lets the flame loose to eat the pieces, to engulf its master’s body in the fire he stared at all along, as if yearning for its embrace, creating a spiral of flame upon the circle in the carpet.

They were right to assume it wasn’t over, at least, because there are shapes in the flames; from the smoke and ashes rises a tower of skulls, a legion of spirits, more than a one king’s soul should hold. They’re all crying havoc, war, blood and pain from a yesterday long forgotten. Their smoke snuffs out the flame, blight covering the Room, blocking out the stars that so enraptured them earlier. Sypha and the Belmont cover their faces, but Alucard is unsurprised and undaunted by the darkness lurking in his father’s chest, and faces it without looking away. This darkness bursts out the window like a flower bloom, flows like a river out into the hall—the one cracked and bruising—flying over the war Room where the war resides no longer, and escapes into the night, fluttering, spiraling around Castlevania’s parapets like butterflies.

On the charred floor, the only thing left of the king is his wedding ring.

Castlevania sees the vampire king as he once was; young and restless. The skeletons eating stakes. Castlevania remembers what it once was: lightning, books, gears, and a few lonely words. It sees the woman with the knife at the door. It watches them build the Room. It watches the boy grow up into this beautiful thing.

Castlevania always wondered if it could breathe. It was never quite sure. The Room always seemed to possess a kind of life it never had; a life that hid in the breath.

“Take good care of him for me,” Castlevania murmurs to the Room.

“Have I ever failed you before?” The Room tries to smile, wiping its eyes.

As the sun rises over the hills, a single ray filters in through Castlevania’s window, touching it, filling every part of it, and for once it doesn’t sting.

And with the last sigh of the last ghost circling the parapets, Castlevania exhales its last breath.

[spaceasianmillennial]

Part 1: Home

Summary: Trevor making his way back to the castle after defeating Death.

This is what it was, a shockwave, and then the sun pouring from the cracking skull.

I’ve done it. And so I give the world to Alucard and Sypha. 

And he was hurling through the multicolored cavern as if worlds whirled and orbited around him. This was his ascendancy, he figured, this was the multi-windowed passage toward the end, those countless levels of Hell his aunt told him about. He’ll see them all again, his father, mother, siblings if God wasn’t fucking around. What a story he'll bring to them.

But then his jaw was slammed rudely into the dirt. He lifted his head to breathe and cough out the grass blades and pebbles. A few seconds later, he squinted. Perhaps he was hurled into a circle Hell after all, perhaps taking down the Evil wasn’t enough to God. If he had the energy, he would have chuckled at the idea that God decided not to throw him in Hell.

When the haze faded and the numbness faded, he suddenly fathomed the sound of water. 

God must have flung me into the wrong Corridor. There was a sun, one that was clearly rising. It looked too nice, too serene.

Only then when he dragged himself to the water to dunk his red-welted arm and drink like a hungry beast and splash it onto his cuts and bruises did he suppose he was brought back to Earth. The spires were nowhere to be seen. This was not familiar territory. He looked for Sypha, for Alucard, but then remembering their two small shapes, the dark of Alucard’s cloak and blue of Sypha’s robes, outrunning the collapse of the bridge.

His family trained him to heal the overexerted body after the battle. Rest was important, reusing muscles in the intervals of rest was key. He turned himself over and laid on his back and let himself watch the clouds on the oranged dawn sky. How long did he hurl through the Corridor? It felt like a second and eons. It was night when he slayed Death--slayed Death, what a story for Belmont generations, he hoped to have landed in the corridor with then.

And so he was alone again.

He drifted off and awoke to blinding sunlight. He was still there. This was not a dream. After letting a few clouds pass his eyes, there was nothing to do but lug himself up and stagger forward. He looked at the direction of the river. He did not know this river but there’ll always be towns near rivers. So he followed it upstream.

When night fell, he was sleeping under trees again to settle his bones. In the mornings, he skimmed the grounds for trail mixes and non-toxic mushrooms and bushes for edible berries, thanks to old Speaker lessons, a blending of Belmont teachings derived from their recorded conversations with Speakers (Belmonts could document, Speakers could not), and a bit of the additional knowledge Sypha gave him.

What was that village again? Alucard was with a village headwoman. Perhaps it should have helped to ask before they had to run off to deal with the matter of the madman and the Rebis.

The river trails did lead him to empty villages, with burial grounds and hollowed huts and cabins. It took some deduction and a map he salvaged along with a black cloak to shield him from the hot sun. He did not stay on the path but kept it in sight as he walked through the secluded trees. If there were highwaymen or that damn “pirate of the road,” he didn’t have the energy to really deal with them. The thrill would be nice though.

From the map, he surmised that Danesti was that nearest village to the castle. He vaguely recalled it being nearly a stop when he set off on the road with Sypha. 

--

When he made it to Danesti, there were lumps of burial grounds and a ravaged fortress. But at least there were a few souls, loading wagons, perhaps moving to leave behind the memory of carnage and some that lingered near the burial grounds on their knees, paying their respects.

Trevor found another useful thing. Or it found him. A sturdy black horse with a white diamond on the forehead that nuzzled him when he entered the scratched open gates. It had a steady saddle and pouches. 

No soul around seemed to be interested in it. The horse probably lost its owner. Better not waste a ride. He summoned his strength and threw himself on, the aches rippled through this body, from head to toe, but it was worth it to not move his achy legs even if the road bumps popped waves of back spams.

He so looked forward to a bed, that bed in Dracula’s castle that he stayed in before he went off to adventure with Sypha. He and Sypha slept in different rooms then.

Sypha. He hadn’t talked about it with her. He had seen Belmont women spout curses at their husbands before they would ask God for forgiveness. It was probably a lucky guess the moment Sypha starting screaming curses, but he also noticed she refused her monthly rags and the smell of cooking meat irritated her--“Get that fucking frying pig away from me, Trevor.” It suddenly occurred to his brain that they weren’t as careful on that Lindenfeld bed. Damn it. He always took precautions with any one-night stand he was with. He had no interested in progeny, especially not ones hidden from his knowledge, for this was not a world for new Belmonts. For him and Sypha, an extra mouth to feed was just not in the cards. 

But now, it seemed that the possibility was closer. Death was defeated. 

He had to know if they would live through it all. Sypha probably knew it already of course, before he did. She would figure that out before it did. It was best if Sypha simply confirmed with him before they could have that conversation, if they could rejoin her caravan (Speakers had childbirth knowledge and ways to expel pregnancies) or lay low at the castle (Alucard ought to have knowledge as well). 

Sypha should have been the one to tell him. But he understood if Sypha wanted to murder him for not bringing up. 

He had to know they if would finish Targoviste, although god knows fuck what happened now that they had to abandon it. Every time they moved from troubled town to troubled village to follow the next reported human sacrifice, Sypha would mutter, "We cleared out the night creatures and vampires for them, but we have to trust the people now to save themselves the best they can."

If they had time in that castle... But of course, facing the slews of night creatures and then Death, it was his last and only chance to acknowledge his suspicion to her, regretting the conversation they’ll never have. She knew how to take care of herself and other people, so he had to bring peace to her mind to let her know that he knew--suspected--of something growing and existing within her and that he had faith that it would grow into something wonderful.

Now unless God was fucking with him and threw him into limbo, he’ll ought to find her. The Castle was the natural first stop, at least to talk to Alucard. But it had been, what, a few weeks? He surmised that it was enough time that she would be venturing to her caravan.

--

“Trevor, if you die, I’ll return to my caravan where I would mourn for you, my rude idiot. And I’ll give them every story, our victories and your idiocy.”

"Haha. Also, I'm not going to die."

“If I die, join my caravan. Gain knowledge, exchange it. You don’t have to have the Speaker robes or the mantle. But you won’t be lonely and you’ll be around my family.”

That was the backup plan. She discussed this under the blanket, her cool bare skin against his torso. 

“And what if I rather be alone than with Speakers?“

Her answer surprised him. “Go home, to the Belmont Hold. And you can be lonely there then.”

“Are you forgetting who occupies the Hold?“

“Exactly. You two can be alone together.”

--

She was being generous to make a plan for him. But truth to be told, he would have been happier to wander alone again. At least that's what he told himself. He realized, if Sypha was gone, if her bare flesh wasn't against his right now, if God decided to snatch her from him, he thought about what he would do. She wasn’t wrong. He realized he would have been drawn home to curl up in that tree, and this possibility would also come with seeing Alucard again to break the news.

The spires. The castle.

He could see the spires of the castle now. Alucard that asshole better have that soft bed ready. And with luck, Sypha would be still there or he’ll have to rest to find her.

She probably left. 

As he rode closer to the castle, Trevor could hear people, wagons, horses clopping, and the sawing of wood and clinking of hammers. How long has it been again? Perhaps the refugees were still here, practicing caution in case the demons came back for their village.

Feet scurried close. He was quite ready to fall now. Quite ready to let the Earth be his mattress. The horse came to a halt. He could let the generosity of humans do the rest from here.

The aches yanked him down, two gentle hands graced his back, softening the blow. He squinted as the hood fell and the sunlight poured. He recognized the feel of those small hands as one feels when putting on old clothes.

It was just his luck. There were her big blue eyes, and he was more lost in those seas than he ever was in what his aunt called the “countless levels into Hell.”

“Hello Love.”

--

Next up: Sypha’s angst during those two weeks.

--> PART 2

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[halcyon-writings]

family

requested?: yes (anonymous) //tldr, if alucard had a sibling (the reader, of course) dealing with the loss of family, both living and not

note(s)/warning(s): canonical character death, spoilers babyyyyy, violence and injury, angst it’s rare for anyone in this series to have a good time huh?, also for this being that the reader can literally look however you want, imma say Lisa isn’t white bc I do what I want and it’s my fic :) this is also the most i’ve written in a good while omg, im highkey proud so pls don’t let this flop

Lisa Tepes is dead.

Your mother, is dead.

Killed, burned alive. Gone to ashes.

All because the church had believed she was a witch of sorts. Several thoughts dance in the back of your mind as you gaze upon the pyre. Smoldering from the heat, the flames gone. Your father leaving his message, no, his warning, that he would act in one year.

“A farce that was!” You hear a shout, and you force down the bitter laugh, throat tight and eyes burning. Especially so when you slowly begin to hear continued shouts of agreement, from voices previously silent.

Here your mother was, her final resting place. Burned to ashes for some sick show of power.

And you could do nothing as she was mocked for it.

Your fist clenched at your side, you feel your nails cutting into your skin, but you walk away to return home.

And to say that the castle was no less better was an understatement. Your father was most likely in his quarters.

And when you finally sit down, the weight of your weary finally settling against your soul, do you allow yourself cry. Quiet tears turning to sobs as you muffle your voice with a pillow.

You had failed her. Missing the chance to save your mother, too late to have done anything.

But you pause, noticing the presence at your door, your brothers familiar knocking pattern resounding suddenly through the empty hall.

“Come in,” Your voice is embarrassingly raspy. As you clear your throat, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. But it wouldn’t hide the redness of your eyes.

Adrian says nothing, and a part of you wishes he did. His larger hand takes yours. A comforting squeeze.

You blink again feeling your eyes burn, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Father is...” He trails off, no doubt thinking of what he could say next.

“What he plans on doing, it’s not justice.”

You stare up at him, But it would be deserving. A bitter corner of your mind supplies.

While Adrian had taken after Mother in his demeanor, much more kinder, more welcoming. You were no doubt like Father. Reserved, distrusting, easily prone to grudges if you were wronged in some way.

But you bite your tongue.

“He gave them a year,” You murmur after some time, “But no doubt he’s ready to calling his armies.”

At this Adrian turns alarmed. the warmth from his hand slips away.

“We must stop him!”

You’re still reeling from the events from earlier today, and a part of you wishes to have no part in his attempt to try and stop your father. But then you remember your mother.

Her kindness, regardless of how she was viewed for being different.

And your warily stand anyway.

If only you had more sense. Your father remains eerily silent as he embraces you both. His hold tighter, and while Adrian seemed convinced, you saw the dark look in his eyes.

The year had passed. You weren’t surprised to hear of the bloodshed.

It was naive to expect otherwise. While reluctantly following your brother, you can only stand, frozen as your blood feels like ice in your veins as your remaining family clashes.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

They don’t hear you.

Glass shatters.

And foolishly enough, you rush forward.

-

With your brother injured and fleeing, and you yourself were not free from any sort of pain.

Stepping in between the two as they fought ended with a gnarly gash on your shoulder, as you fell to your knees and blood slipping past your fingers. Your father stands in front of you, like a protective pillar as your brother stares in shock, quickly wanting to help you in some way.

And then the fight is over. Your brother is gone too.

The castle is much larger and colder now.

As you’re confined to your room, the wound healing into an angry red, then to a muted and dull scar. For a moment you wished it took longer, your father guilty and you were reminded of times you had been sick when you were younger. While you had not been too keen on the typical children’s books, reading theory on physics and other sciences only seemed fun when he would read to you and you’d ask questions in between passages. (Your voice funny from a stuffy nose led to laughter and a small coughing fit but otherwise it was nice).

But now was not the time to reminisce on the happy childhood.

You know you cannot stay. Ultimately, Adrian had been right. Once you feel as though you can move your arm once again, slowly, you begin pack a small bag. You didn’t want to build up any suspicions, finding some money in your room and whenever you could take a few coins or so from your father that he would not miss.

Extra clothes were folded and put away separately.

And you make your escape on a rainy evening, the uneven droplets helping hide your tracks. But you knew now that your father had brought back Hector and Isaac, new generals to help fight in his war, you had to be weary of the night creatures that would no doubt be sent after you.

Well, you were creative. At times flying in a transformed look, no one would suspect a bat in the dark of night afterall. And it was easier to. find good vantage points that way. But to also avoid any people, you didn’t quite trust yourself to not get into an altercation with a bigot.

You rarely slept longer than necessary, especially not when those dreams were memories or nightmares.

Now that you had learned how to walk, you were a right menace. It was an uphill battle in itself to keep you in one place. You were curious and the world you knew (being your father’s vast castle) was huge. Your childlike curiosity was never let down by your adventures.

You laugh quietly, which sounds like small squeaks as you fly up and hide above the gaudy chandeliers. Your father, giant coat gone, hair tied back and in a plain dress shirt and slacks as he searched for a curious toddler.

Snickers continuing as he paces down the hall. You hop down, landing slowly and feet planting into the ground, knees bent. Before you had down the opposite direction.

The lab usually wasn’t a place you could be allowed in on your own. But having heard that your mother was there, you knew it wouldn’t be a problem! So your little legs carried you along. Until you found the familiar doorway.

Dozens of tubes and mechanisms had you turning your head as you wandered in, your shoes tapping against the marble floor.

“Now what brings you here, sweetling?” The warmth of your mother’s voice has you smiling before you see her. As you run forward and hug her side, clutching her dress in your small fists. “Not causing trouble for your father are you?”

You shake your head grin betraying your word, “Nope! I’m not doing any trouble!”

“And how since when did that happen?” She laughs gently.

“Now.”

Your brother looks up from his own books, waving before returning to work. Your nose crinkles, so much for playing experimenting. But before you can say much, your nearly yelp as you’re brought up into the air by a pair of strong arms.

“I’ve found you, little wanderer.” Your father’s voice carries no heat behind it. Then again, he was always soft hearted for you and your brother. But most of all, your mother.

“I’m not little!” You pout, “I’m big now!”

-

You’re taken away from your reverie at the snap of a twig.

With your lack of sleep, as you had insisted on traveling more, you were less than surprised to have been snuck up on.

“Peace, my friend,” The old man murmurs. You keep your knife in an iron grip in front of you. Who you’re guessing is his son or grandson, has his hands raised the same way, but no weapon to be seen, magic, oh good. Then again, not like you needed a knife when you could make your nails go into claws and the fangs. Don’t forget the fangs.

“I can’t exactly be peaceful when it’s the middle of the night and suddenly figures in blue robes appear out of now where,” You answer dryly. But seeing as how the others behind the main two have not done or said anything noteworthy, nor were their stances make them look like they could really fight, you lower your weapon slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Although, I shouldn’t be swinging my own weapon around either.”

The old man just smiles gently. And you can’t help but be just slightly comforted.

In the end, the speakers stop for the evening. And the Elder, despite looking like a frail old man, is firm in his decision that you stay and “eat properly.” And like a scolded child, you listen. Food and drink all but pushed into your hands as you’re quickly brought into conversation, the previous confrontation all but forgotten.

And then you perk up when he mentions Gresit.

“So... the sleeping soldier,” You begin, slowly chewing on the sweet bread you had been given. “It was true?”

The Elder nods, “My grandchild and a traveller, they had gone to explore it. Well, the traveller had gone to save my grandchild. I will not hide the fact that I was a bit doubtful. But Belmont had proved himself a man of his word. Although, he does need to drink more water.”

You blink, a look of a surprise clear on your face. Belmont...

Fuck. 

“Although I hadn’t expected the legend of the sleeping soldier to be realized so quickly.” 

At your inquisitive look, the Elder begins to explain. Of a holy warrior beneath Gresit, who would come to save it’s people in their most dire of hours. 

“The pair had come up with a man with long hair, like gold.” You couldn’t help but let out the breath you had been holding. So the Belmont didn’t try to kill him. you could breathe a little easier at that fact. 

“Where are they now?” You ask, holding the empty cup in your hands, as you stare down as though waiting for something.

Getting your answer, you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulders. You wave off the concern in staying, if it had already been several days since the Speakers had left Gresit, then you needed to cover a lot of land to get to your brother. 

That is, until you saw the expression on the Elder’s face grow stern, as though he was scolding a child. With a heavier bag, one that the Elder insisted that you take some more things you could eat along the way, in exchange you give the Elder a small trinket you had been using to hide from the monsters of your father’s army, you finally set off. While your worries were not completely settled, your shoulders felt lighter. Metaphorically of course.

Of course, giving away the object that kept you hidden made it a bit more, difficult, when it came to trying to hide and travel at night. Much less even try to stop and rest. 

It had barely been two days since you had left the speakers, and already, you had run into some trouble, a beastly creature’s claws barely caught on your sleeve, leaving your arm bare as you shuddered from the chill in the air. You can only sigh mournfully, you really liked that coat. But, better your sleeve than say, you actually getting wounded. 

Your nails resemble claws, while your free hand holds the dagger in a steady grip. But being surrounded on all sides, it did not look promising.

Well, you thought mournfully, if you died you could at least see your mother again.

Until you hear the sound of what reminds you of a whistle? And then a sword flying through the air, slicing through the night creatures, giving you a chance to get some distance.

You hear the surprised shout of your name, and look up, to see your brother wide eyed, sword now returned to him, and a man and woman standing at his side.

“Um... hi.”

-

Much to your relief, the night creatures are easily taken care of.

And as you’re finally able to explain your story, you find yourself relaxing into the extra cloak given to you by the Elder.

“You mean you met the Speakers on your journey?!” A woman, petite with short blonde locks, who you learn is named Sypha, asks, and you notice the way her shoulders sag in relief.

You nod, “Yes. They all were safe.” If her shoulders sagged anymore she’d full on be slouching. You leave out the part of leaving a possibly precious trinket with them, not wanting her to think you cursed them or something.

“So you mean to tell me, Dracula, fucking Dracula, had more than one kid? That he actually had a woman not only give him not just one, but two children?” Is incredulously asked next by the scruffy looking man. Trevor, as your brother says.

You only stare in annoyance, sure your father was about to raise an army to annihilate the human populace but he didn’t used to be that way.

Before you can retort with a scathing remark of your own, Sypha elbows him harshly in the side. And you know it hurts from the way he immediately puts a hand where she hit him, eyes widening slightly. Serves him right.

“And what of...” Adrian- no Alucard as he wishes to be called, asks, near hesitant.

“Father?” You ask, arms crossed, “Same old same old. Planning the same amount of destruction here or there.”

As he looks to the snow covered earth, you roll your eyes, “Did you expect anything different?”

It’s quiet, and neither Sypha nor Trevor speak.

“No.”

You all sat around camp quietly for a while after that.

-

Your lungs feel like they’re being constricted. Your throat burns as you struggle to breathe, claws digging into your skin like knives. Before you’re thrown backwards, landing harshly against the wall. Books fall from the book case and your weapon clatters noisily from the ground. 

You take shallow breaths, barely standing before you’re thrown once more. Curse your father’s stature and supernatural strength. You close your eyes, waiting for another attack and at least hoping to brace yourself for it, but it never came.

Instead, your brother stands in front of you, as he and your father remain in a standstill. Sypha and Trevor’s footsteps are rushing towards you three. 

It all continues to move so fast, until he stops noticing the painting of your mother, as she had been holding your brother and then you as a baby, and the next thing you know, your father is staked through the heart. And with wobbly legs, you take your sword, and swing. So falls Dracula. But it felt like no victory. 

You sit up with an alarmed look, stopping yourself from shouting.

That was... a dream? You rub your eyes, feeling that your cheeks are wet and you sigh. 

When you see a shadow looming over you, the light of the fire giving slight visibility, you freeze. Before noticing it’s your brother and not his companions. 

“Sorry,” You say, making sure to not look at him, so that he didn’t see your tears. 

Quietly, he places his coat over your shoulders, sitting beside you, wrapping his own blanket loosely around his own shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

You only grip the jacket lapels tighter, shaking slightly as you hiccup, unable to stop yourself from crying again. 

He must think it’s because you miss your mother, and you do. But this dream was far different. And you say nothing as he brings you into his arms. Your tears having long since dried when the sun rises moments later. But you find yourself falling asleep as your brother rubs soothing circles on your back, feeling the build up exhaustion finally leaving you. 

When you’re awake much later in the day you can’t help but laugh a little when Sypha scolds your brother for being mean enough to make you cry, he didn’t you assure her quick enough, although you’re back to laughing when she then turns around to scold Belmont when he makes another slight comment. 

[ethereousdelirious]

Happy early birthday @febrileminded​!!!!!!!! I wrote 4k words of CV sickfic and I would have kept going except I literally ran out of time (hashtag adulting sucks). I’m hoping to write a part 2 in the future, but I hope you like this!! <3 <3 I hope your birthday is awesome and everyone is nice to you and you get awesome presents

The icy mountain wind caught Trevor dead-on and made his cloak flutter and snap violently, made his nose and cheeks sting.

"Fuck," he muttered, trying ignore the way breathing made his throat itch. He had thought it was just the cold air and the elevation making him woozy, but after two days of grueling travel through the mountains, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something more at play.

Sypha and Alucard walked a bit ahead of him, Sypha leading the one horse they had managed to acquire before leaving the previous town.

Standing against the purple sky, the fresh evergreens made a perfect frame around Sypha, Alucard, and the horse. It would have been beautiful if it wasn't so damn uncomfortable.

Trevor coughed lightly into his palm and hastened his step so he wouldn't lose distance. Neither Syph nor Alucard seemed to be having as much trouble as he was, and the thought of being the weakest made him edgy.

"I can't believe people live up here," he forced himself to say, mostly to provide an excuse for his ragged breathing.

"What?" Sypha half-turned to look at him. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes watered from the cold. "What do you mean?"

Trevor took a breath to tell her about the paths he had seen, the not-so-distant chimney smoke farther up the side of the mountain, but Alucard spoke first.

"A small group of people from the neighboring towns made their homes up here in the process of mapping out this pass." He gestured broadly. The wind made his hair flutter and he continued sourly, "I can't imagine why they stayed."

Trevor chuckled for the sake of disguising a few coughs underneath and pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders. He had already tried offering it to Sypha once and she had declined in a tone that brooked no argument.

"And this is when the sun is out," Sypha said, glancing upward.

Though she couldn't see it, Trevor nodded. They had had remarkably good luck with the weather. Today marked the third morning that a nearly cloudless sky had greeted them, although today it was purple and tiny, glittering ice crystals danced on the breeze.

Trevor sniffled, then wiped his nose on the hem of his cloak when it continued to run. "I don't suppose there's a tavern up here," he half-joked, knowing that Alucard would have something snide to say.

It was half irritation and half self-preservation that made Trevor set himself up like this. He knew when he was getting sick and if they kept walking in silence like they had been, with no other sound that Trevor's sniveling and coughing, the others would know, too and he simply couldn't allow that.

Sure enough, Alucard scoffed and did not deign to turn around when he said, "So three days without some imbibing some piss-water calling itself 'ale,' that's your limit?"

Trevor was saved by having to respond by the interference of Sypha, who evidently felt this comment was mean-spirited enough to warrant a hard look. "Don't pick fights."

"My hero," Trevor said drily.

Despite his best efforts, the conversation died out. Trevor tried to keep his throat-clearing to a minimum and wiped his nose on his cloak so often that the skin began to feel raw. The breeze picked up, cooling the sweat that formed on his neck and brow. This created an uncomfortable discrepancy. He was undeniably hot from all the physical activity, almost uncomfortably so, but the cold air kept his face and hands icy and pale. (His hands, at least, were almost greenish-blue from the lack of blood flow).

They had just stopped for a break when the first real snowflake drifted by. Trevor looked up. How had he not noticed the purple-gray clouds closing in overhead?

"I was afraid this might happen," Alucard sighed. Fucking prick. Like he knew what the weather was going to do.

Trevor wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He could feel where it had beaded up on his neck and under his arms, but he wasn't about to start undressing just for the sake of airing out.

Besides, Sypha and Alucard seemed fine. And if they were fine, then Trevor was fine because he wasn't about to hold everyone up so he could nurse a little head cold.

His chest and throat burned as if to remind him of symptoms he had forgotten. Chest cold, then. Regardless. He was fine.

Annoyed, he adjusted his cloak over his shoulders and glowered off into middle distance.

"We should move quickly," Sypha said. Though Trevor didn't move his head, more and more snowflakes spun into his field of vision. The whirling sensation made his temples throb.

"I'm good to go," he said. "I was just worried about Alucard."

"Me?" Alucard sneered. "I'm not the one panting like an overworked mare."

And, like clockwork, they all turned their heads to the horse, who was happily nosing at a patch of grass.

Trevor barked out an abortive laugh that threatened to snowball into an avalanche of coughs. Sypha giggled and even Alucard looked like he was working hard to suppress a smile.

The mood quickly dimmed when the wind whipped up a thick flurry of snowflakes.

Trevor stood up slowly, his body aching to an almost insulting degree. Under his clothing, his body burned hot while the rest of his exposed skin was already numb with cold. "Let's go," he said, grabbing the horse by the reins and leading her back to the path. Sypha and Alucard followed.

"We should only have one more day of travel," Alucard said, and Trevor could hear in his voice how hard he was working not to stutter from the cold.

"If we don't get trapped by the snowstorm," Sypha added, a dark note of worry staining her voice.

Trevor put his head down and urged the mare to move faster.

Something was off about Belmont. He'd been moving much too slowly since the journey started. Alucard had chalked it up to some miscellaneous defect in the human form at first, but then he realized that Sypha was doing fine while Trevor was starting to lag behind.

He was keeping up and he wasn't complaining, so Alucard hadn't minded so much at first, but now… Now they were in the middle of a snowstorm that was rapidly becoming a blizzard with no hope of shelter in sight and Belmont. wasn't. keeping. up. Even over the howling wind, Alucard could hear Trevor's heavy, ragged breathing punctuated by the occasional strangled cough.

Alucard rolled his eyes and turned around.. Whatever the deal was, they didn't have time for it.

"Pick it up, Belmont. We need to move quickly."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Trevor spat, glaring at Alucard with red-rimmed eyes. "And here I thought we were just out for a leisurely stroll." He wiped his face with his hand and Alucard frowned. It was near-impossible to tell, since they were all damp from head to toe, but Trevor might have been sweating. His cloak had no hood, but he'd pulled it up over his head to stave off the snow. Still, the back of his neck glistened with sweat or melted snow.

Alucard narrowed his eyes and Trevor glared back, still panting.

"Didn't you just say we needed to hurry?" Sypha prompted.

"Something's wrong," Alucard said, still staring at Trevor. They were all pink-cheeked from the cold, but Trevor's cheeks had taken on a stronger reddish tone than the delicate pink dusting Sypha's cheekbones and nose. He couldn't seem to stand up straight and his breaths sounded wheezy and painful.

"Looking is free," Trevor said "but touching will cost you."

"You're slowing us down," Alucard said. "I'd like to know why."

"This is slowing us down," Trevor said, with a pointed look at Sypha, who was shivering. "Let's go already."

Alucard kept his steely gaze locked on Trevor. "Fine. But you'd better keep up."

They trudged onward. It was impossible to tell from the clouded-over sky, but Alucard estimated that barely an hour had passed since the storm had started. The sun shone watery rays where it could through the thick gray cloud cover.

"Do you really think we can make it to the next town?" Sypha yelled over the wind 

"We don't have a choice," Alucard answered. "We can’t stop, not in this weather." He paused in case Trevor had a smart-ass remark he wanted to make, but Trevor was silent.

Well.

Not silent. Just as Alucard was ordered, he was keeping up, but the grueling pace was costing him dearly. He was panting so hard he could barely speak and still stupidly trying to muffle coughs in the soaking-wet cloak draped over his shoulders.

He looked for all the world like a drowned rat. Were the circumstances less dire, Alucard would have told him so. As such, he kept his mouth shut. Trevor didn't look like he had the energy to argue.

Something was obviously wrong with him. Alucard wasn't sure if Sypha had noticed, not that that meant anything. There was no time for side conversations, no space in their current predicament for fussing and arguing. Trevor could deal with his little chest cold on his own until they got someplace safe.

Of course, things never could go as planned. The storm raged on and Trevor's coughing only got less subtle as they shuffled through the growing snowdrifts.

After one particularly loud bout, Sypha looked sideways at Alucard. He shook his head.

Then he thought for a moment, and amended himself. "We can stop if we see shelter," he shouted over the wind.

Sypha nodded.

Then came the gentle sound of a body hitting the snow.

"Shit." Alucard spun around and was unsurprised to find Trevor facedown in the snow. It had piled up about shin-high by now, so at least he hadn't hurt himself in the fall.

Sypha, less pragmatic and a touch more tender-hearted, cried out and rushed over to kneel in the snow by Trevor's side. "He's burning up."

"We need to get him up."

"On the horse?" Sypha asked. It was her turn on the reins, but she had let go when she had gone back to Trevor. Alucard took the lead before the shivering mare could get any ideas.

Trevor sat up suddenly and threw himself drunkenly to his feet, swaying and looking around with suspicious, fever-bright eyes. Water dripped from his face and the hem of his shirt. "I'm fine." Vapor rose from his mouth and body.

"You're steaming," Alucard pointed out. "Get on the horse."

"I can walk."

"Get on the fucking horse!" Alucard snapped. He told himself it wasn't worry that made him so edgy, that he was just angry at Belmont for slowing them down, but deep down he knew better.

"I can walk."

Alucard ground his teeth and looked at the horse, who was obviously suffering. "Fine. Sypha, take her. Belmont, come here."

Trevor glared and for a moment, Alucard thought he wouldn't move. But he did, staggering through the snow. Stiffly, Alucard grabbed Trevor's arm and ducked under his shoulder.

No one said anything. They started to walk again.

It was slower going now, and the tension grated. Trevor was blazing hot, but cooling down quickly. Even with a fever, hypothermia would set in faster now that his clothing was wet.

Through the grace of… something-- Luck, God, fate, Alucard did not know-- they rounded a bend and found the looming shadow of a barn. Nobody spoke, but they moved ahead with renewed speed, as much as they could manage given the circumstances.

Alucard deposited Trevor against the barn wall and kicked the door in without a second thought.

The barn wasn't warm but it was shelter from the wind and might as well have been paradise for all Alucard cared. Sypha led the mare in and Alucard dragged Trevor from the wall to an old hay bale that was beginning to sprout grass.

The doors flapped in the breeze. Alucard bolstered them as well as he could with further hay bales, then turned his attention back to Trevor, who was shivering and dangerously pale.

He gave Sypha a quick scan-- She was also pale and shivering and her lips were nearly blue, but her eyes were clear and focused.

"Are the supplies dry?" Alucard asked. "Any of them?"

Sypha began to dig through the mare's saddlebags while Alucard took the decidedly harder task of taking care of Trevor. Perhaps he should have switched with Sypha, but it was far too late now.

"You need to get out of those wet clothes."

Trevor managed to wheeze out something that sounded like a scoff. "I'll do it myself."

"Your hands are shaking."

"So are yours."

"Fine." Alucard backed up a half-step.

"You don't have to watch." Trevor glared at him. To his credit, he did seem surprisingly with it for a man who had just collapsed, but he was still far from okay. "Belmont," Alucard sighed. "Do you not understand just how sick you are? You have a fever and we're still a good day of travel from the next town, given the weather conditions."

Trevor coughed pointedly into his sleeve until Alucard turned back to Sypha.

"Anything?"

She nodded. "Pretty much everything is still dry."

"Good. You should get changed too."

Sypha nodded and ducked into a corner.

"Aren't you going to change?" Trevor asked, slightly out of breath. "Or are you just going to order everyone else around?"

Alucard drew in a very deliberate breath, held it, and let it out. He wasn't going to rise to Trevor's bait. "I'll get changed as soon as Sypha is done, so she can keep an eye on you."

"I don't need a fucking babysitter."

Alucard wished he had a mirror so he could show Trevor exactly how bad he looked. His cheeks were flame-red while the rest of his face, particularly around his mouth and eyes, were deadly pale. He was shaking and Alucard had no doubt that he couldn’t stand on his own. "You look like a corpse."

"That's rich coming from you."

"Should I make a fire?" Sypha interrupted. She looked around at the structure of the barn and frowned. "I don't know if it would be safe."

"There's not much we can burn either," Alucard said, forgetting Trevor for the moment.

"Better not, then." Sypha came closer and rested her hand on Trevor's back. "You'd better go and get changed.

Alucard nodded.

By some miracle, Sypha managed to get Alucard and Trevor to agree to sleep together in the hay loft. Even with the shelter from the wind, it was too cold to sleep alone. So, after making sure the mare had water, they all climbed up the ladder and settled down.

Trevor was obviously fighting very hard to seem fine even though he could scarcely go a minute without coughing.

He wouldn't sleep next to Alucard, so Sypha found herself wedged between Trevor's fever heat and Alucard's gentle coolness.

She waited until Trevor's coughing died down and his ragged breathing evened out, whispered his name a few times to make sure he was asleep, then nuzzled Alucard's back to get his attention. It was a little more intimate a gesture than she was used to with him, but Trevor had his arms wrapped around her and she couldn't move for fear of waking him.

"Yes?" Alucard whispered.

"Do you think Trevor is going to be okay? I'm worried about him." Even now, he radiated heat against her back like a campfire and his breaths wheezed. "I can tell he isn't feeling well; I don't know why he's trying so hard to hide it."

Alucard sighed, and for a moment, his shoulders pressed harder into Sypha's chest. "Belm-- Trevor is stubborn. I'm sure he has his reasons, but--" He paused. "To answer your question, yes. I do think he'll be okay as long as he doesn't do anything stupid." Another pause. "Oh, no. He won't be okay."

Sypha nudged Alucard's back with her forehead. "Don't make jokes."

"Never."

Sypha was sure she wouldn't sleep at all. Hay poked through the blanket they'd laid down and she was too hot with Trevor pressed up against her back. He obviously wasn't sleeping well; his breathing came in erratic bursts and he made small noises of discomfort intermittently.

Yet somehow, Sypha fell asleep. She was only aware of this when she woke up to the sound of deep, grating coughs and a rush of cold air on her back. She shivered and rose on one arm, squinting in the dim light.

Alucard reacted faster. He hopped over Sypha in the blink of an eye and leaned against Trevor, holding his head steady with one hand and supporting his weight.

"Oh, shit."

Sypha blinked hard. She could just make out the silhouettes of Alucard and Trevor. He was nearly limp, and she got the distinct impression that Alucard's hand was the only thing keeping his head steady. "Trevor?" she whispered.

"Sypha, he's on fire. Bring the blanket over here."

"I c'n make my own way home," Trevor mumbled.

"Hush," Alucard said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Before you embarrass yourself." Sypha dragged the blanket over and watched as Alucard carefully arranged Trevor on top of it.

Trevor tried to speak again and coughed so brutally that Sypha was afraid he might hurt himself. "Actually," he slurred in a ragged voice, "I don't feel s'good."

"We know." Sypha knelt beside him and smoothed his hair out of his face. Now that she was closer, she could smell the tang of fever sweat and make out his pained expression.

"Sypha."

"What is it?"

"M'tired."

"Rest, then."

Trevor hummed an agreement and closed his eyes. Sypha stroked his hair.

"I'll be right back," Alucard said. He had evidently been looking through their bags, because he was holding one of Trevor's spare shirts. Before Sypha could ask for an explanation, he leapt off the side of the hay loft.

With nothing else to do, Sypha sat down properly and continued to stroke Trevor's hair.

Alucard touched down beside her almost silently. He nudged her out of the way and placed the spare shirt, now folded, over Trevor's brow.

Trevor winced but did not open his eyes.

"What's that?" Sypha asked.

"I got it wet in the snow." Alucard ran a hand through his windswept hair. "To cool him down. We don't want that fever getting out of control."

"Good thinking," Sypha said. Despite herself, she yawned.

"You should get some rest," Alucard said immediately. "The saddle blanket might be dry by now; I can go and--"

"It's fine," Sypha said, touching his hand. "Wake me after a few hours, okay?"

Alucard nodded, and she settled down in the hay to sleep.

As he sat and watched Trevor sleep, Alucard went through the events of the day and tried to think of something, anything, he could have done to prevent this from happening. He couldn't have known that Trevor was going to get so sick or that a storm was going to blow in, but… Maybe there was some detail he missed, something he passed over--

Trevor whimpered and interrupted Alucard's train of thought. "Belmont?" Alucard whispered. "Trevor?"

Trevor sat up so fast he would have smacked his forehead against Alucard's if Alucard hadn't caught him. "Let me go!" Trevor's hoarse cry shattered the silence and he thrashed so severely in Alucard's arms that Alucard's nearly let go of him out of sheer surprise.

"Trevor, calm down, it's me." Alucard let go and allowed Trevor to scoot back, away from him. "You're safe with Sypha and me."

"I don't believe you." Trevor was breathing so hard Alucard wasn't sure how he was still conscious. 

"I'm right here," Sypha said from where she'd been asleep.

"We won't hurt you," Alucard promised.

Trevor coughed shortly and seemed to come back to himself a degree or two. "It's cold," he said plaintively, sounding so unlike the Trevor Belmont that Alucard knew. He sounded meek. He sounded scared.

"Come back over to the blanket," Syoha said.

Trevor nodded and crawled back over to Alucard, who promptly wrapped him up in the blanket. Seeing Trevor pliant, so obedient, made Alucard's skin crawl. Still, he wrapped his arms around Trevor. "It's okay," he said gently. "You're safe here."

A moment later, Sypha joined them. Gradually, Trevor stopped shivering and went still between them save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

Trevor felt like he'd been run over by a horse. No. He felt like he'd been shot off his horse, which had subsequently run over him. And all this had happened while he had a hangover. That was how Trevor felt.

It took him a long while to piece this comparison together, as thoughts swam lazily in his brain like fish in a pond and knitting them together into something coherent was painful.

Plus, he kept coughing and losing track of everything. The coughing was bad. It made his ribs ache and his head pound and his throat burn, and if it went on for too long, it made him dizzy.

Despite all this, he kept his eyes firmly shut in the hopes that he could fall back asleep. He was more than exhausted, so tired it made his bones ache, but he was also cold and getting colder and the rampant shivers wracking his frame were nearly impossible to ignore.

"I feel like shit," he announced in a hoarse, croaking voice, in case someone helpful was nearby and felt like bringing him a glass of water. Or putting him out of his misery. "Am I dying?"

"His fever must be down," Sypha whispered.

"Sypha?" Trevor opened his eyes and immediately closed then again. The room, wherever he was, was fairly dim, but even the gentle light sent an explosion of pain through his skull so strong it made his stomach turn. He coughed into his arm and groaned when he resurfaced, opening his eyes slower this time. The cold disappeared in a flash and he started to reach to take off his cloak and shirt before he realized his hands were shaking.

"Have some water," Sypha said. She came over and went to lift his head, but Trevor shied away and gave her a hard look.

"I can sit up," he said, a little offended that she thought he couldn't.

He couldn't.

He tried, but dizziness immediately overtook him and black spots clouded his vision. Sypha, bless her, caught him without saying anything and lifted a water skin to his lips 

Swallowing sent stabs of pain down Trevor's throat, so he only had a few sips before pulling away. "Why'm I so tired?" he asked, sliding down so his head rested in Sypha's lap. Not waiting for answer, he added, "M'so hot." A gentle breeze rustled his hair and then Alucard appeared in his field of vision holding-- "S'that my shirt?"

"Relax."

As tired as Trevor was, it was hard not to relax. He turned his head and nuzzled Sypha's belly to make her laugh, which she did. Alucard draped the folded-shirt over Trevor's eyes, and it felt like Heaven on his overheated skin. Every instinct in him told Trevor to push back, to not let them see him so weak, but he was so tired. 

It occurred to him to say so and find some corner to curl up in, but the thought dissipated into smoke almost as soon as it came and someone was stroking his hair and he was so comfortable…

Sypha's feet were starting to go numb, but she didn't adjust her position, not wanting to disturb Trevor. Instead she took Alucard's hand and guided it to Trevor's forehead.

For a moment, she thought Alucard might protest, but then he softened and began to stroke Trevor's hair.

"Your hands are cooler than mine," Sypha whispered.

Alucard raised an eyebrow before conceding defeat with a nod. "Do you want to move? I can hold his head."

"Thanks." Sypha waited for Alucard to slide his hand under the back of Trevor's head. She shifted positions so that she was sitting with her legs splayed out, Trevor's head resting on her thigh. Noticing Alucard stifle a yawn behind his lips, she gave him an arch smile. "There's room for both of you if you snuggle." Alucard stiffened like he was going to refuse, so she added, "Come on, you stayed up all night watching over him. I know you're tired."

"So did you," Alucard said, but Sypha could see his defenses crumbling even as he argued.

"Half the night. Besides." She leaned back until she was fully horizontal. "I can sleep, too."

"At least take my coat." In a flash, Alucard was knelt behind her, tucking the folded coat under her head.

"Thank you."

Alucard was silent, back by Trevor's side. "Do I really have to--"

"Yes."

"Alright." Alucard settled down against Trevor and rested his head on Sypha's thigh.

"Good night."

"It's morning."

"Good morning, then." Sypha closed her eyes.

[darkspellmaster]

Sex and the Castlevania series

So you may have all heard by now that the new seasons of Castlevania will have more gore and sex involved in the series. And for me at least this is a bit of a surprise. Not because Castlevania has not had sex as part of its storyline, (how else are the Belmonts going to be born), nor that nudity would be shown (see the Succubus for example) but in how it’s going to be used. 

As a player of the games, one thing has always stood out to me about the Castlevania series and the idea of fan service and sexuality and sex itself, it’s never used as a means of just titillation. There’s always a meaning behind it. And the reviews have me wondering if this is going to still be the case with the show, or is it going to be used as an “Oooh look how edgy we’re being this season.” because that’s not what sex in Castlevania is about. 

Sex, or the idea of intimacy between two romantic partners, has always been at the heart of the backstory of the Castlevania series. From the outset there’s has always been a sense of family and love and devotion in Castlevania. Even with the Arcade edition of Haunted Castle in 1988, the addition to the story of Simon was that he was newly married to his bride Selena, who was taken by Dracula. Years later Selena and the Mysterious Woman in Simon’s Quest II were mixed to create Linda Entwhistle who was Simon’s girlfriend in the book series based on the games. 

Years later during the more story-driven games that came out, sexuality and intimacy became part of the game in how it was presented. Namely the use of sex as a way to pull the innocents to the darkness ala the Vampire Brides in the original Dracula, and the loss of innocence (as with Lucy in the novel) and the idea of devotional love that conquers that darkness and temptation. 

In this sense, we’re seeing the use of the deadly sin of Lust acting as a temptation to the heroes as a means of making them be killed for their wanton desires. Yet love and intimacy also plays a huge part in fixing issues in the story and leading to tragic and happy endings. 

So with that in mind, I want to do a quick walkthrough of the way sex and love is used in these games and discuss why the idea of sex and violence shouldn’t be on the table with Castlevania as a metaphor as much. 

Let’s start with the timeline, rather than the game order because it makes more sense that way. 

The story of the Belmont Clan and Dracula are intertwined for all time, this is just a fact of the matter and not just some random accident. And Love plays a huge part in this story as the cannon story stands right now. Prior to this, Castlevania was a fun romp through the idea of beating up Old Universal Monster Movie characters (every one of the main bosses in the first game was tied to some form of Universal Horror Monster and it even has some Hammer Horror connections as well). But with the growth of the franchise, it was clear that a story needed to be told, so over the years, that story had evolved until in the early 2000s we got the very first story in the Belmont vs Dracula timeline in the form of Lament of Innocence. 

Now Lament isn’t just a story about the loss for Leon and his world view that there is nothing lurking in the dark. It’s the loss of friendship and of love, but also it’s the reinstatement of belief of the good of people and that there are those that can and will stand up to the darkness and that even as one loses everything, you don’t have to lose your soul in the processes. 

But let me start from the beginning in this case. Leon Belmont was a knight templar in the crusade. He was best friends with and cared deeply about his fellow Crusader Mathias Cronqvist. Now Mathias was a man of science and of learning and of a lot of things, he wasn’t a fighter the same way Leon was, so he was more into spells and magics, something that his family kept mostly from the Church at the time. 

Both Mathias and Leon were in love and devoted to the women that they felt deeply for, that being Leon’s fiance Sara Trantoul, and Mathias’s wife Elisabetha. Leon’s devotion to Sara was known by everyone, especially Mathias and this is very important since it’s Leon’s Love of Sara that drives him to abandon his cause with the Crusades and pretty much take up Vampire Killing for the rest of his life, training his children and their descendants, on how to defeat the man that took that love from him. 

Mathias, on the other hand, was emotionally devoted to Elisabetha, and, given the way he speaks of her, it’s clear that the devotion and love was returned. So much so that his love for her basically poisoned his mind and made him into the monster that would later come to regret his actions. As it was, Elisabetha died due to illness and Mathias abandoned the Crusades, became ill, and holed up in his home unable to be reached by any of his friends, Leon and Sara. It’s only when he learned that Sara was in danger from Walter Bernhard that he was able to get out of bed and warn his friend Leon of the danger, but, by then, it was too late and Sara was captured and taken to Walter’s castle. 

Now one of the huge parts of the story of Lament is is that it deals with devotion, honor, and the choices we make based on love. So while Leon is trying to save Sara he meets up with an alchemist, Rinaldo, who had lost his daughter Justine to Walter and was unable to save her. 

Leon renounces everything; his baron title, his home, his lands just so he can cast off his duty to go and save Sara. His love for her runs that deep that he’s willing to go into the Castle of Walter with just a sword and prayer and god save anyone that gets in his way. Rinaldo is far more of a pragmatic person and in this way juxtaposes Leon’s love of Sara.  Whereas Leon is far more optimistic about his chances against Walter, Rinaldo knows the bitter truth, that Sara has no hope of making it out of the castle and not becoming a vampire in the process. 

This becomes an important part of Leon’s story as he traverses the castle to try to locate Sara and comes across a number of characters that play a part in the story and the idea of love. Medusa, though not a sexualized being in this one, mentions that the whip he’s using is far more powerful than that of the version that Rinaldo used to save his daughter. 

Now, why is that? One could speculate that Rinaldo lacked the will to save his child, or that he knew the truth and couldn’t bear to have to take his daughter’s life. His feelings, however, whatever they lacked, caused the Whip to fail in what it needed to do, and thus he was forced to kill his own daughter. Leon on the other side of things has nothing but the will and drive to save Sara, and his love for her and desire to bring her home urges him on. This love, this need to help her, is what makes that whip work. That need for protecting something, it’s why Trevor needed to find Sypha and Alucard to eventually come to a reason why the Vampire Killer came to him. 

Joachim is an interesting one in regard to love in this game and how it is presented. Walter seduced the young man with the idea of immortality and when Joachim gained his Vampire state he realized that Walter was above him and rebelled. This lead to Walter putting him in captivity and driving him mad, for his own amusement. But how is this love? It’s a very dangerous and bad form of it, as Joachim both loathes Walter but also seems obsessed with him. He hates him with all he is, and at the same time wants to overpower and control him. This same sort of hate and love is what drives Mathias as well in his story. 

Then there’s the Succubus, the one character that really hammers in the idea of desire/Sex and love in this game and the differences between them. So the Succubus in Lament is an actual boss, vs. just being an enemy. She has no name, but her role is critical in understanding what’s going on in Walter’s castle. This succubus had previously disguised herself as Justine for Rinaldo, allowing him to lower his guard and possibly may have harmed him in the process. His rejection of this form of his daughter may have to lead him to make some critical mistakes. Mistakes that Leon doesn’t seem to make. Namely, after a bit, he sees through the Succubus using Sara’s form to trick him. 

Leon recognizes that the woman isn’t Sara based on her actions and way of moving, showing that though his connection with Sara he can’t be tricked and lured in by kind words from a monster. This is the opposite of what happened to Mathias. 

As I said there’s a tragedy to the love and sex in this game and the use of it. Walter luring Justine away with his beauty and her desire for him lead to her downfall, which leads us into Mathias. (We will circle back to Leon, I promise.) For Mathias Elisabetha was his whole world and when she died while he was away it leads him to reject all of his desires for hope and love and feelings. He lost his way and decided to renounce God and live as an immortal as revenge for God taking away his beloved wife. In order to get what he needed, he made a deal with Death, and the two decided to use Sara as bait for Walter and Leon was to be his sword. Mathias’s own devotion to Leon, and some of his humanity as well, shows up later in the story where he sympathizes and connects with Leon in regard to his own loss. Showing that they’re the same and that Leon should join him, which Leon rejects. 

This moment in the game is interesting because by this point in the story Leon has learned about how to defeat Walter and that Sara was bitten. In a lot of Vampire lore, biting is used as a way to indicate, in some cases, a sexual desire or a need that is fulfilled in a more intimate way. After all the neck is a body part that is known for being very much something that can be used for erotic aspects of lovemaking or showing desire. Which brings us back to the fact that Sara didn’t want to be turned. This wasn’t a choice on her part, unlike Joachim, and it leads to her rejecting the idea of wanting to remain a vampire. She desires death over having to be a monster and leads to Leon, at first vehemently rejecting Rinaldo’s order to kill her, and then accepting Sara’s desires to become one with the whip. 

It’s an important moment because it shows that Leon is willing to ignore his own desires for that of Sara’s, again showing his selflessness in putting what she wants ahead of his own, showing his love and devotion in a more adult and complex way. Sara’s own love is what fuels that whip and her need to protect Leon are the quintessential factors of  Love (Leon) to the opposing one of Lust (Walter) and in this case. 

Trevor and Sypha come next in regard to the issue of love and sex and while the show is clearly going to be showing more of their romantic escapades, it should be noted that the game doesn’t really make much mention of it at first, as Sypha in the game has a bit of a love triangle going on with Grant and Trevor as the main choices, although it seems like she only had eyes for Trevor. We know the two eventually had children but Sex, or lust, in the game never was a thing. Their devotion to each other in the show is telling, and in other games, both do pair up frequently, even in Judgement there’s an underlying tension between them. 

It’s of interest that in the show, we get to see the two of them acting as a couple, much like how Lisa and Dracula were shown acting like a couple. But actual sexual acts are, as with Lisa and Dracula, put on the side and in the case of Trevor and Sypha it’s only hinted at and not a full on display. Which falls into the same idea that most Castlevania games seem to have, the hero’s love interest typically is not shown engaging in sexual activity, or rather, only after bad things happen. 

I’ll jump to Richter and Annette, because that seems to be the next one in regard to how sexuality is used heavily in Castlevania. So in Rondo of blood, Dracula has Shaft take Annette since she is engaged to Richter Belmont. In a scene with him during the game, Annette threatens to take her own life rather than have relations with Dracula who intends to drink her and turn her into his bride. For the original version there’s a dramatic moment where Annette is talking to Dracula and he tries to lure her into becoming immortal to stay with him. She says she will not fall in such a cheap manner, the implications there are more along the lines of sex and him taking her physically from her fiance Richter. In the PSP game, if you take too long or go the wrong route you get the bad end where Annette has been transformed into a vampire and is placed in an overtly sexual outfit, down to a thong and bodice. Her hair goes down rather than the updo she has when she’s not turned and she very certainly is meant to be a temptress and a signal that Richter failed to save her from the deviousness of the vampire. 

This idea of sex, or the sexual, being used as a temptation and a devious thing in Castlevania has been around for a long time. However for every moment of some devious succubus being in the way of the hero, there’s always a moment of love that shows the positive side of it’s nature vs. the lustful side. Again, looking at Annette and Richter we get a moment when he frees her of her embracing him and happy that he’s there to be with her. That she knew he would come and that everything will be okay. 

Sexuality plays a heavy role in tempting Gabriel Belmont in his game, Lords of Shadow. During the game, as he tries to get to see his dead wife with a specialized mask. During the game he meets the Vampire Carmilla who offers to him a chance to become a vampire and enjoy the idea of a lustful existence. Every inch of her in the game is designed to pretty much be a temptress and lure Gabriel from his path to finding a way to see his dead wife. Yet it’s in this moment that we get to see how deeply his affection for his wife runs as Gabriel rejects this offer even more violently than with other Lords of Shadow that he’s faced. It’s a pretty strong moment for him as a character, and shows a deeper feeling in regard to his connection to his late wife. 

The reason I bring all these moments up is because even in the games where there’s hints of the sexual, as Vampires now are associated with Lust and temptation, the show uses sex as a means of connecting it with violence and some pretty dark ideas. Which contradicts the idea of how Love is the most powerful thing to defeat the darkness in Castlevania. 

Take Hector’s story right now. In the show we have his sexual encounter with Lenore which is contrasted with Isaac’s battle with Legion. The idea here is to show that both Isaac and Hector are being used, one being brought to his knees via false affection and entrapment by a woman who doesn’t love him and is using him as her own pet, who later slips the ring on him to collar him as she would a dog or cat. While the Isaac, even though he’s doing a good thing in defeating Legion (and i’m still damn sure that woman is Death in a false form) was used to destroy the wizard in the tower, releasing the village. In both cases manipulation was used in order for the opposing party to achieve their goal. 

For Lenore it was to get Hector to trust her enough to trap him and use him in her own way and for her own needs. She controls him now, making it impossible for him to escape from them, or so we are told to believe. On the other hand you have Isaac who, while used, acknowledges that he was so, accepts it, but is free to move on as the use of him wasn’t against his will, nor was it something changing him down. Rather the manipulation was used to not only stop something terrible, but also show him that there were others out there that were worth saving. Thus, in the poster, we have Lenore holding onto a bound and trapped Hector, and Isaac not quiet twisted up in thorns. 

The use of violence that we see shows that there’s a thin line in this world causing people to become entrapped by their own desires. For Isaac it was his revenge, for Hector it was his need to feel human again. Which brings us to the point where Rosaly comes into play in regard to Hector’s story. In Hector’s game Curse of Darkness, we see how his life drastically changed when he and she connect. From where he was in the story she brought the idea of hope and light to him, vs the darker aspects in the game that hint at someone who was cursed to believe he is a monster. In this way, I hope that if they bring in Rosaly we can see the opposition to Lenore’s way of using him for gratification and chaining him to her. 

On the other side of things, and something a bit easier to get at, is the idea of  trauma through the use of sex as shown in Alucard’s story. In the show we get to see Trevor and Sypha in bed, but it’s clear what’s happened there and the idea is that it’s less about their sexual encounters with one another than about their growth as a couple and how they interact outside of the bedroom and how they show love for one another. We see also they have a sense of betrayal when dealing with the Judge and the idea of Sypha’s world going from it just being fun and doing the right thing, to realizing the world is not black and white, and that not all people are good. 

In Alucard’s case we see the idea of the twins (I’m using the term as it’s easier for me to call them this, it doesn’t mean I’m saying they are twins just that they look alike) as filling a void and clearly being a representation of Trevor and Sypha (They even share the first initial of their names) that Alucard is looking for. Through their interactions we see that Alucard is, like Sypha in the other town, trusting them regardless of how many red flags they raise. The whole issue comes to a head when, after sharing a lot of things with them, Alucard is seduced by the two while trying to sleep. During the scene, as with Hector and Isaac, we see the sex as being connected to the violence of the battle that Sypha, Trevor and Germain get into. The twins end up wrapping Alucard in iron rings, much like Hector is imprisoned by Lenore with the ring, so to is Alucard. We see then that like Hector he’s betrayed and harmed by the emotional aspect of the betrayal. But unlike Hector who feels trapped, Alucard now feels anger at those that hurt him. 

The sexual act leads into the idea of him no longer trusting humans, especially with his heart. This of course is being used to drive Alucard to decide to lock himself back to sleep until the time of Richter and Maria (the warrior and the Mage), three hundred years later. The idea here is that the physical act of it is being used to show people being harmed in vulnerable states, and that sex is used as a tool to harm or destroy others just as certain acts of violence can. 

Yet, part of the story line of Alucard is that Maria chooses to go after him even after he says he’s cursed. Again, like Hector and Rosaly, showing that love is more of a counter to the anger and hate that seem to embolden those that would do bad in the world of Castlevania. So then, I must ask, why is the sex in the show being used not as it should be, showing how love can change someone, but rather as a connector to the violence. That wasn’t the idea of Castlevania, so I have to wonder what Warren is driving at here. 

[duhragonball]

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 2-3

Chapter 2 is a flashback to the origin of Sir Integra Hellsing.   As established in Chapter 1, the Hellsing Organization is a secret anti-Halloween-monster task force.   From what I’ve been able to tell, they have a small army of guys and they all live and train in a big mansion, and the Hellsing family runs the whole show.   It’s sort of like the X-Men except they actually do cool shit and you only have to keep track of four or five characters.   

It’s implied throughout this manga that the Hellsing Family is descended from Abraham Van Helsing, the vampire hunter seen in Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula.    Shoot, I just remembered I wanted to read the novel so I’d know what this manga was referencing, but it’s too late, I’ll just have to do that later.   I’ve been meaning to read the Great Gatsby for several years, too, and I just never get around to it.   

On the other hand, Integra claimed that her family had been at this since “ancient times”, suggesting that they predate the events of the Dracula novel.  If Abraham Van Helsing was part of their line, then he may have only been carrying on a tradition instead of founding a new one.   I think the conceit of Hellsing is that it regards the Dracula novel as part of its canon.   That is, in this fictional world, the events in the novel really happened, more or less.    I don’t know if that means the novel exists in this world or not.

Whatever the case, it was Arthur Hellsing running the organization up until 1989, when he suddenly took ill.   On his deathbed, he named his daughter as his successor, and asked his brother Richard to help her run things, since Integra was like, twelve, at the time.

Instead, Richard waited three days and staged a coup, forcing Li’l Integra to hide in the ventilation ducts.   He has to act quickly, and kill her before the whole staff finds out what he’s up to, but if he can kill her, he’ll assume control and be set for life.    I’m not really sure what Richard wants out of this.    Maybe he just really wants to run the family business, or maybe he wants to shut the whole thing down and just be a wealthy nobleman without all the monsters.   Anyway, the search for Integra leads to the “underground sector”, which hasn’t been used in over twenty years, so I guess 1969 is about when it was shut down?    It houses a dark arts lab, a library, speciment room, torture chamber, dissecting room, and a dungeon.   That last one tips Richard off, because before he died, Arthur told her that she could find something that would protect her.  

But all she finds inside is a corpse, and then Richard and his goons show up shortly after.   He plans to kill her slowly to punish her for wasting his time, but when he shoots he in the arm, some of the blood splashes on the corpse, and then it comes to life.

Just like Frosty the Snowman, only horrifying.   Richard tries to kill it, which seems pretty stupid, considering how they thought it was dead a minute ago.   That goes about as well as you’d expect, and after slaughtering the goons and taking Richard’s arm, the corpse kneels before Integra and addresses her as “Master.”

Richard apparently knew nothing of this, but the corpse seems to recognize him, at least as far as a Hellsing who’s not fit to head the family.  As Integra shoots Richard dead, the corpse introduces himself as Alucard, the name her family has always called him.  

One thing I find interesting here is that I could have sworn the Hellsing Ultimate anime established that Richard had poisoned Arthur, presumably thinking he would have a clear shot at the inheritance.   But it’s never mentioned here.   Maybe this was something they added in, because honestly, it just makes too much sense.  The implication of this flashback is that there are certain secrets in the Hellsing Family that only got passed down from parent to child.    Arthur and Richard’s father must have known about Alucard, and Arthur was likely the one who sealed him up in the basement in the first place, but neither of them said a word about him to Richard.   Maybe if they had, Richard might have thought twice before trying to take over.   Like the Cheddar Priest, he thought he had it all figured out, but he didn’t know what he didn’t know.

Back in the present day, Alucard is on the shooting range with Seras, teaching her how to shoot.   Seras already knows how to fire a gun, but Al wants her to hit targets at greater distances, using The Force a vampiric “third eye.”   He demonstrates by shooting a target one kilometer away, and hitting it perfectly.   For some reason, Integra is reading the paper nearby, and reminiscing about the her first meeting with Alucard ten years ago.   For some reason, she takes umbrage with the idea that she’s not still a “little girl” like she was back then.   Seras even ribs her a bit, which ticks Integra off.   Of course, Seras wouldn’t think Integra’s a “little girl”.   Integra’s a few years older than she is.  

The main point of all of this is that it establishes why Alucard works for Integra, and what they did with Seras after Alucard turned her into a vampire.   One way or another, Seras is just drafted to fight the Vampire Wars, or whatever they call it.   I find this kind of unsatisfying, because the anime didn’t expand on it either.   Seras just wakes up in the mansion, and Integra tosses her a uniform and says “Get dressed, kid, your shift starts in twenty minutes.”

I think Seras wants to work for the Hellsing Organization, partly because she has nowhere else to go, and partly because she admires Alucard and wants to join his cause.    But it’s never established that Seras has a choice in the matter.  It’s implied that Alucard is magically bound to the Hellsing family.    Integra called him “the research” that her “father and the others were doing.”  Like, you can’t just have a vampire work for you, you have to do stuff to him to make him obey.   I don’t think they’re mind-controlling Al per se.  He seems fully aware of what his role is, and he’s totally comfortable in it.   But he’s not just doing this voluntarily, either.    Integra has some sort of power over him, and my assumption is that Seras inherited that same quality when Alucard turned her.   So now she’s bound to Integra’s orders in the same way.  

But there’s a lot of unanswered questions in this.    I would think Alucard would be expressly forbidden from making his own ghouls or vampire broods.   Yet he drank Seras’ blood without any problems.  Maybe he’s allowed to do it if he has permission?    That might be it.    But then he brings her back to Integra, and I assume she has to make the decision to either keep Seras or destroy her.   I mean, Seras is handy to have on the team, sure, but if this was a good idea, why didn’t they have Alucard do this before?   I guess the situation just never came up.  

I think a lot about what might have happened if the Cheddar Priest had turned her into a vampire.    Would she have become loyal to him?  He said she would have free will, but she’s pretty deferential to Alucard, so what’s that about?   And if she had become a vampire and turned against the Priest, would Al have allowed her to live?   He was on a mission to destroy vampires, so I would think he would have shot first and asked questions later.    Well, let’s move on.

Chapter 3 jumps ahead to August 12, so Seras has been with the team for a little over a month now.   A bunch of murders have taken place in Birmingham (England, not Alabama), and this time no one waits around to call in Hellsing, though they are still surprised to find out she’s a woman.     

This time, the culprit is on the move, and Integra deduces that they’re choosing specific households full of “devout Christians” and spacious walls to write “blasphemous anti-Christian messages.”   Since they’re moving along Route 17, Integra has a rough idea of where they’ll strike next.  

I don’t know what the point of the “blasphemous messages” or seemingly ritual killings is supposed to be, since the killers are just this young vampire couple who only seem to be interested in this for immortality and power.   Their goal seems to be to kill thirteen families, and “they’ll” see to it that they get stronger.   I don’t know if this means some other party has put them up to this, or maybe they mean “they” as in all the families they’re killing.   It’s like this is an initiation ritual or something, except we’ve already seen Seras become a vampire, and she didn’t have to do anything like this to seal the deal. 

Then again, maybe the point of this chapter is to demonstrate that vampires take a while to get all their powers.  When Alucard confronts them, he scolds them, not for their string of murders, but for their lack of conviction, and their inability to transform or fight without guns.     So maybe this couple was trying to jumpstart the process by feeding on several dozen people in a short span of time.    But Al seems to think that isn’t how it works.    I don’t fully understand his moral code, but he doesn’t seem to object to vampires on principle.   Being a vampire is fine with him, so long as you have a purpose to it.   If you’re only in it for immortality and power, with no other reason, then he doesn’t respect you.   Seras wanted to live, but not necessarily forever, and I think she wanted power, but only enough to fight against evil.   That’s what sets her apart in Alucard’s eyes. 

So he kills the boy, but the girl escapes out the window, but Alucard already had that move scouted.

I’m not sure who’s saying “No!” here.   Maybe the girl vampire running down the road.   Anyway, Alucard put Seras on the roof of the house before he went inside, just in case anyone tried to make a break for it.   So all she has to do is shoot down the runner before she’s out of range.  Except she’s 600 meters away, it’s night time, and Seras doesn’t have a scope for her gun.   But Al reminds her to use her “third eye” and it works.  

After it’s over, Seras realizes that she didn’t even feel the recoil of the gun, and she can see in the dark with no trouble at all.   She wonders what’s happening to her, but that seems like a dumb question to ask one month after turning into a vampire.    I’m guessing the first few weeks of it didn’t feel all that different to her, and she probably knew she’d get stronger and better at shooting guns, but now that it’s actually happening it feels a lot stranger than she expected it to be.   In the anime, Seras also points out that she can hear Alucard talking to her in her mind, which is also weird, but I guess she’s got plenty of other weird stuff to process now.

Back at the base, Integra considers the recent increase in vampire attacks.   They’re all jobbers, like this couple Al and Seras killed, and none of them have any particular agenda, except to kill people.    She begins to wonder if someone’s making all these vampires just to cause trouble.  Hmmm...

So, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself here, but this foreshadows Milennium quite nicely, but are we saying Milennium made vampires out of that boy and girl?   Were they behind the Cheddar Priest as well?  Also, “two” doesn’t seem like a huge increase in vampire incidents, so I guess there have been some other vampires running around between Chapters 1 and 3.   Oh well. 

[purplebass]

Ginger Mulled Wine // Kelila

Hi, here’s another ADSOM (mostly Kell and Lila) AU fic. One night, Kell and Rhy walk into a bar and... well, read to know what happens.

Couple(s)/Characters: Kell and Lila, Rhy and Alucard Rating: M  Tw: mentions of alcohol use

Kell and Rhy walked into a bar late at night. Although Kell didn’t like the idea that much, he agreed, because his brother insisted. 

“What is one night out in the open, brother,” Rhy protested, completely ignoring the facts.

“You’re still a king, Rhy,” Kell reminded him. 

“So what? Aren’t kings allowed a bit of fun?”

“Just be careful,” he frowned. “Is this the bar? Knives out… really?” 

“Why, don’t you like the name?” Rhy raised an eyebrow as he walked with him to the counter. “Don’t tell that to the owner, I beg you.”

Kell shrugged. The owner would not like it at all, and he knew it. His eyes went on the people behind the counter. He instantly looked for that person, but she wasn’t in sight. Not yet. “Do you remember what I told you?” 

Rhy shrugged off his coat and nodded. “Yes. Yes. You told me several times, but I told you I have a good memory. I shouldn’t -”

“There you are,” a voice said. 

“No, there you are,” Rhy replied, and reached Alucard, who was reserving some bar stools next to the counter. “Hope you didn’t wait a lot. But my brother, right here, spent too much to get ready.” Rhy glared at Kell, but he simply shrugged. 

“And here I thought you were the vainest,” Alucard told Rhy, who snorted. “Do you want a drink?” he asked them once they all sat down.

“Did somebody say drink?”

Kell tried not to look too fast in the direction of the new voice. Her voice. But he couldn’t help it, and stared. She wore black leather pants and a black camisole. He realized that it was getting warmer in there, and he removed his coat. The gesture earned him her eyes on him.

“What can I get you?” she asked no one in particular.

“Whiskey on the rocks for me,” Alucard said first, followed by a mimosa order from Rhy. 

When her eyes landed on Kell, he still didn’t have an answer. “What about you?”

“I don’t know,” Kell said honestly, then had an idea. “Why don’t you choose one for me?”

She didn’t say anything. She smiled, and then she started mixing the drinks. She made Alucard and Rhy’s drinks first. She took her time with his drink. After a few minutes, she put a red concoction in front of him.

“What is this?” he wondered, observing the glass. It looked like the type of thing you would use to drink tea or cappuccino, not an alcoholic drink.

“It’s ginger mulled wine,” she replied softly, placing her forearms on the counter. “To complement your hair.”

He frowned, confused. Then he started drinking slowly. In the meantime, she watched him with an expectant look in her eyes. Kell thought the drink was too sweet but also sour because of the union between the wine and the ginger. He wasn’t liking it that much, but he pretended he did. 

“It’s delicious,” he commented after he drank half a cup. It wasn’t an outright lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. He didn’t know what to say. It was okay. He hoped that this would be enough for her.

“Let me taste it,” she said out of the blue, and grabbed the cup from Kell’s hand to try it. 

Their hands brushed when she did it. He licked his lips as he watched her taste her own drink, but she didn’t seem so pleased. “How can you say this is good? It’s bitter! Remind me not to try it again,” she said, and turned her back to him and threw the remnants of his drink into the sink.

Kell watched her with astonishment. What if he wanted to finish it? He didn’t know if that was a farce or not, but her face still seemed contorted after sipping the ginger wine. He decided to spice things up a bit, because he was sure she would love that.

“I have to be honest with you,” he started saying, and he got her attention again. “I didn’t like that drink either. And I think you are not even good at mixing drinks.”

If the comment was too harsh, she didn’t let it show. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he agreed firmly.

She then turned to Rhy and Alucard, who were immersed in their conversation and hadn’t noticed this little rebuttal between them. “Messieurs,” she said. “Did you enjoy my drinks? Your friend, here, said he didn’t.”

“He’s not my friend,” Alucard replied, which earned him an elbow in the ribs by Rhy. “Anyway, yes. I enjoyed my drink, Bard.”

“I enjoyed mine too, thank you,” Rhy said.

“See? They enjoyed it,” she lamented.

But Kell had had enough of playing like this. He glanced at his watch. It was already late, and he had spent a day deprived of her. He decided to act.

“Oh my, I think I’m gonna need the restroom,” he said, putting a hand on his mouth, pretending to be about to heave out the contents of his stomach right there. 

If she was concerned, she didn’t show it. “This is the ginger getting revenge,” she said instead, as Kell rose from his seat and left.

He glanced at her one last time before leaving. It was an excuse, of course, one he was sure she had caught. He turned the corner before the narrow hallway that led to the toilets. It was dimly lit, the wall painted a dark blue giving it an even obscure feeling to it. As if that was the path to perdition instead of liberation, of freshening up before getting wasted at the counter. 

It didn’t take long until someone grabbed his hand and pushed him gently to the nearest wall. Two soft lips caught his in an intense and heated up kiss. Not the kind you give to an acquaintance, but the king you only reserve to someone you desire or cherish. His hand found the mass of her hair and they were a tangled mess of kisses. Unstoppable, fast, unyielding. On the lips, on the neck, even on her chest. They didn’t want to part nor wished to. But they were running out of air after a while, and she broke the kiss.

“What was that?” Kell wondered, breathless for a moment.

“A kiss,” she teased with a smirk, playing with his hair with her thin fingers.

His eyebrow rose in disbelief. “For saying that your bartending skills suck?”

“Do they really?”

“You know I was just joking,” he answered cautiously. She still wasn’t good at mixing drinks, but it wasn’t her job. “Besides, you’re the owner. No one will hold it against you.”

“Not even you, mister know-it-all?” she asked. 

He tilted his head and shrugged. "I'll give you a six," he finally said, eyes unblinking and confident. But she seemed disappointed. 

"Only six?" she chuckled, and touched the collar of his shirt. 

“Six is a good grade,” he argued with a grin, as he caressed her back with his hand. And no, he wasn’t trying to make her change her mind. Maybe. 

“Then I’ll also grade this kiss, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” he fretted and smirked, curious to know.

She frowned. “You seem so sure of yourself.”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

“No,” she replied, tugging his head towards her to whisper something in his ear. “Because you did poorly on your performance.” 

“That’s too bad,” he whispered back in her ear. “Because I was sure you liked it.”

She snorted. “You know that I’m a good pretender,” she said, her lips almost on his again. Almost touching, teasing.  “I’ll be kind and give you the chance to try again.”

She looked up when she finished, and blinked once. He didn’t know if it was an unspoken sign to go on or not, but he didn’t care. His lips found hers again, and for a moment it was just them in the silent hallway. Far from the world, far from the bar. Until the spell was broken abruptly, but not by one of them.

“I knew I would find you here, Kell,” Rhy said from the corner. His coat lain on his left arm. On the other side, there was Alucard. “There is no one at the counter anymore.”

“What? Already?” she freed herself from Kell with a surprised expression.

“Time passes quickly when you have fun, Bard. It’s two am in the morning,” said Alucard. “I gather that you lost track of time after he arrived.” He tilted his head towards Kell, who stood there feeling like someone had rained on his parade.

“Well, then. This means I should go closing up,” she commented, and started moving until Alucard stopped her. 

“No. We’ve already done it when we didn’t see you come back anymore. Don’t worry, go home.”

“Yes, stay here with Kell,” Rhy said, directed at Lila. “Alucard will accompany me back to my abode, don’t worry,” he added, now towards Kell. “By the way, tonight’s performance? I’ll give you both a nine,” he finished. “I’ll never get why they pretend not to know each other and act…” they heard him say before he and his boyfriend rounded the corner and disappeared, leaving them alone.

“It’s called roleplay, Rhy…” 

Kell looked at Lila after they couldn’t hear their friends’ voices anymore. She wasn’t mad, but she rolled her eyes. She turned toward him, and her face lit up. “I guess it wasn’t that bad, don’t you think?”

“It depends on what you’re referring to,” Kell straightened, and took her hand. “The game or the kiss?”

“Game? Which game?” Lila winked at him and started walking. “I just know I’m tired after a long day in this place.”

“Then this means you’re going straight to bed when we get home, I gather.”

“I’m sure,” she gazed at him, and he was watching her. They had just picked up her things from the office and were going to be out in a matter of minutes. “But I never said I would sleep.”

There wasn’t any need to explain. He understood, and so did she. As they closed down the last door to Knives Out and reached his red car, the anticipation grew strong. But at least, the day was over, and they could finally enjoy the night in each other’s arms.

[excorcismic]

     ❛ i’m tryna get out , find a subtle way out . not to cross myself out , not to                          d i s a p p e a r . ❜

                                                                   ❛ LEON !! HELP !! ❜                                                                                   playlist . plotting call . listen as you read !

the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of LUKE PASQUALINO  -  but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of TAKING A BLONDE-HAIRED GIRL HOME ON A JETSKI strikes you.  perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself  -  you’re LEON S. KENNEDY ! ,  a TWENTY-NINE YEAR-OLD NURSE ( FORMER PARAMEDIC ) whose virtue lies in your + HONESTY & + SELFLESSNESS , although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - DEJECTED & - ALOOF ,  and you’re associated with  by those around you.  suddenly,  however,  you’ve found A RACCOON CITY BADGE on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse,  memories from your life in RESIDENT EVIL have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you.  you can almost hear NEW WAYS by DAUGHTER following in your wake. ( he/him &  demimale )

                        this is the story of a very kind man .

I . IN THE DARKNESS , I WILL MEET MY CREATORS . . .

alucard , pennsylvania . leon s. kennedy is born in the back of a 1970 toyota hatchback to a father & mother who don’t love each other but try to make it work since they’re all each other has .

. . . needless to say , it’s very early in his life that ‘making it work’ doesn’t actually work out for them , and his mother moves out and his father moves in with his parents . leon is taken with the latter - seeing his mom on the weekends .

it’s a pretty okay life ; he’s raised more by his grandparents than his actual parents , but he’s always clothed , fed , and raised to be polite . he spends his childhood looking up to superheroes and playing with their toys because he was told it’s good to be a good person , and superheroes are good because they protect other good people . and it’s ingrained into his head from a young age that’s what he wants to do . 

he’s a good kid . always will be a good kid . but there are times when he tries not to be .

wide-eyed and innocent to the world around him , he starts out a goody-goody in high school that grows into more of a rebel and a hellraiser by the time he’s a junior . leon s. kennedy is a good student , but often plays hooky - smokes cigarettes - almost got caught with liquor & weed behind the outdoor bleachers . a few times he’s reported to his grandparents and when they ask him why he tells them he just wants to try everything . he never wants anyone to get hurt , he just wants to have fun .

but . . . it’s two more years of this behavior before leon’s grandparents tell him if his act doesn’t clean up , he’ll be kicked out . and he listens , throwing away a future of hedonism and hell-raising in favor of medical school . because he never liked going to the doctor’s as a kid , but he always felt safe when someone in scrubs would greet him with a smile and tell him what they’d be doing for his appointment .

he goes into medical school to be the hero he always wanted to be . 

 II . AND THEY WILL ALL AGREE THAT I’M A SUFFOCATOR . . .

leon s. kennedy devotes himself to his studies and graduates with double degrees in both nursing & emergency medical services . he starts off in the thick of it ; multiple days of loud noises , scenarios he’d never wish to be in - but lives are saved and he’s praised as a hero for the way he takes initiative . 

but of course , the newfound passion he’s found in caring for others does not stop at his field . no . because there is cordelia , and the moment he first locks eyes with her he has to make sure he’s alright with the way his heart skips a beat .

because she is beautiful . she is beautiful & different than him in the best possible ways and he finds it a miracle somehow she agrees to see him let alone marry him a while later . he considers himself the happiest man in the world since every morning he wakes up & first mistakes the form next to him for an angel - before realizing that is a real woman and she so happens to be his wife . 

of course , life moves on . and leon is devoted to his wife & his job but the latter and the sights seen can wear and tear on the conscious , the spirit . and with sudden news & sudden tragedy a rift is torn between him and the most important person in the world to him ; leon can’t help but feel his own world has stopped moving but the rest of life drags him along and he can’t take it .

home is not happy - home is not what it was before . home was the joy in her eyes & the warmth of her smile & the sound of her laugh but those don’t seem to come around much anymore . and he blames himself , and he only concludes perhaps he is the reason for all of her pain . . . so in an effort to free both her and himself , leon s. kennedy files for divorce & cordelia kennedy signs .

he packs up his bags and moves back up to his grandparents’ home - they’ve long flown to florida for retirement and leave their baby bird their nest . but the world feels empty and his ring finger grows cold now that there’s nothing upon it . 

he is alone . he tells himself it’s for the best . but he’s alone , and because he needs to take care of himself he switches to regular hospital nursing as opposed to emergency medical care .

III . OH LOVE . . . I’M SORRY IF I SMOTHERED YOU .

it has been a few years ; yes , time heals wounds , and leon has gotten used to the fact he’s living by himself - but there’s still a part of him that will be sad about what has ended . what could have been something much longer if maybe things turned out differently or he did something to fix it - even though he knows there was nothing in his power . but he’s fine .

his patients & the people he cares for are the reason he wakes up every day - he’s starting to drink & smoke again to perhaps provide soothing comfort when things get bad but he also knows he needs to focus on his own health as well .

living alone is lonely . but it doesn’t make him cold or callous ; maybe just a bit distant and reluctant to speak too much to new people , but those that gravitate towards him , he takes them in and offers his help . 

he makes an effort to try and make things brighter , to move on . goes out to drink , goes on dates ( bi icon ) - sees people , leaves the house . and it does help , even though most of the time , leon’s a bit more resigned to himself and nowhere near as talkative as he was years ago .

and even though he’s stepped away from the fast-paced environment of a paramedic , those he’s helped in the past and now remind him that he is still a good man and still a hero to those who’ve received his help .

the days can be hard ; but it’s okay . he'll take it one day at a time .

                                   i need new ways . . . to waste my time .

there is a man . a very kind man , but he’s been to hell and back & when leon looks into the mirrors , he sees eyes that have witnessed the apocalypse and then some . because raccoon city is gone & so are the people who lived in it . leon pulls away from the glass with the intense feeling of loss and the badge he finds later on feels heavy in his pockets . but . . . he’s alright . and hopefully , so is the man on the other side , as most heroes don’t end up happy but . . . leon can only feel that’s what he’d seen . 

[ragingbookdragon]

To Challenge The Flow Of Fate PT. 8

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story

Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst Author’s Note: One more part and then we’re done here! Enjoy! -Thorne

The three days that followed Dracula’s death were calm as the four cleaned around the castle and recovered from injuries. Trevor wanted to leave and find a bar as soon as he’d woken up the next morning, but (Y/N) insisted that he wait a few days griping, “Look dumbass, you took like four direct hits from Dracula, you’ve obviously broken a few ribs and bruised your organs. We’ll find you a bottle of wine while you rest.” It had satiated him long enough, but on the third day, her brother insisted that they leave the next morning. (Y/N) relented, deciding to spend her final day around Adrian, not that they hadn’t been spending the prior days apart from one another. He always seemed to find her, no matter where she’d been exploring in the castle.

           She slipped between the heavy double doors, entering quietly into the large room. Her eyes drifted along the floor to the walls, and she was surprised to see that it hadn’t been damaged in the slightest. The heels of her boots clicked as she walked along the marble floor, and she stopped in front of a device that made her tilt her head in confusion. (Y/N) walked around it, gently prodding the metal on the sides. She stared at it, then grinned and murmured, “I can hear you, you know.” A moment later, Adrian appeared beside her, smiling down at her.

           “You’ve got good hearing (Y/N).” She nodded, then pointed at the device.

           “What…is this thing?” He glanced at it, then returned,

           “It’s a remembrance device.” (Y/N) looked up at him.

           “A what?” Adrian reached forward and waved his hand over it, and she watched the top rise, revealing small pieces of metal surrounding a dial. It only served to confuse her more as he reached in and pressed a button. Soft music flowed through the room as the lights flipped on and (Y/N) spun around, amazement filling her as she looked around. The usual dark interior lost its grip as golden light filled the room. She turned to look at Adrian, who stood beside her, his palm outstretched to her.

           “May I have this dance, Lady Belmont?” (Y/N) huffed a laugh, placing her hand in his, relishing in the feeling of him pulling her against him. She looked up at him and said,

           “I can’t believe your father invented a device that remembers music.” He met her gaze and murmured,

           “Actually, my mother helped him invent this…” Adrian drew his gaze around the room as they swayed. “I used to sit and watch them dance for hours.”

           “Was your mother good at dancing? Because you certainly are.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

           “She was terrible at it. She’d step on his feet almost every dance and stammer out apologies…but…he simply smiled and led on. He…always looked so happy when they danced.” (Y/N) frowned and leaned forward, pressing her cheek to his chest. Adrian’s arms came up, tightening around her, and the two fell into silence. After a moment, (Y/N) raised her hand, laying it on his shoulder and whispered,

           “The events that led us to meet were unfortunate…but…” She tilted her head, gazing up at him. “But I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant I wouldn’t meet you again.” Adrian met her gaze and swallowed thickly, breathing,

           “Neither would I.” For a moment, neither said a word and (Y/N) realized they’d stopped moving as Adrian leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. She let her eyes shut as he cupped her cheek and gently tilted her chin up. When they parted, she felt him press his forehead to hers and murmur, “I would like you to stay with me…here…in the castle.” (Y/N) clenched her jaw and sighed.

           “I’d love nothing more…but…we both know I can’t stay.” She opened her eyes to see him gazing back at her, then he pulled back and muttered,

           “I know you can’t.” (Y/N) looked away as she untangled herself from his arms. An awkward air hung between them and she pointed to the door.

“I should go find Trevor and Sypha. Never know what trouble they’ll find if I don’t supervise.” He offered her a polite smile, and (Y/N) couldn’t get out of the ballroom fast enough. When she did find them, they were walking out of the observatory. She smiled walking up to them. “How are you two feeling?” Sypha returned her smile and placed a hand on her shoulder.

           “My arm is still sore, but I’m alright.” (Y/N) eyed Trevor who tipped his head side to side.

           “I can’t bend over without my ribs feeling like they’re gonna shit out my arse, so, I guess you can tell how I’m feeling.” She snorted, walking beside them as they entered the main hall. A few birds who’d been startled from their spots flew out the doors, and Sypha asked,

           “What do you think he’s going to do know?” Before either of them could respond, Adrian’s voice sounded from the top of the staircase.

           “I had a plan, you know.” They turned, watching as he descended the stairs. “I was going back to Gresit, return to my vault, go back to sleep.” Trevor placed a hand on his belt and asked,

           “But?” Adrian moved towards them.

           “If I leave the castle here…all his work is inside it. His libraries, his materials, his knowledge. What happens to all that if the structure is abandoned?” He hit the bottom of the steps and added, “I can’t just leave it here. It’d be nothing but a grave to be robbed.” He paused, then he vowed, “So, let it be my grave.” (Y/N)’s face pinched at his words, feeling the guilt crawl under her skin until Trevor countered with,

           “No.” Adrian’s raised an eyebrow, tone humorful as he repeated,

           “No?” Her brother nodded.

           “No. We can’t move this thing.” He pointed at the Speaker beside them. “Sypha broke it.” The magician put a hand to her chest and griped,

           “I did not.” Adrian glanced at her.

           “You kind of did.” Sypha crossed her arms over her chest, adamantly refusing,

           “I do not break things.” (Y/N) snickered, nudging the her in the side.

           “You really broke this thing.” Trevor eyed the other two.

           “So, we agreed she broke it.” (Y/N) and Adrian nodded.

           “Oh, yes.”

           “Absolutely.” Her brother looked back at the vampire.

           “So, it’s staying right here, forever,” He thrust his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the Belmont home. “right on top of the Belmont Hold. Which is now also open to the world.” Trevor moved. “Up here, your father’s collected knowledge. Down there, the collected knowledge of your mother’s people. As above, so below. Both halves of you, Alucard.” Adrian cocked an eyebrow, offering,

           “I’m listening.” Trevor grinned, wrapping his arm around the vampire’s shoulders as he declared,

           “Behold, you sulky, half-vampire bastard. I bequeath you the Belmont Hold.” Everyone’s eyes widened at his words. “Make that and the castle your home, not your grave. Be it’s last defender.” (Y/N) peeked at Adrian, watching his features morph into pure disbelief.

           “You’re…giving me your home?” Her brother nodded.

           “It’s yours. My childhood home and your childhood home. Protect it. Make something out of it. Something better than a pile of ruins and a symbol of terror.” For a second, (Y/N) thought Adrian was going to cry, but then he shook his head.

           “I can’t do that.” Her brows furrowed and she inquired,

           “What? Why can’t you?” He looked over, scanning her face.

           “Your brother might be the oldest, but that is still your home too. It wouldn’t be right for me to take that from you.” (Y/N) felt her heart warm at his thoughtfulness and she leaned over, coaxing,

           “Tell you what, if you let me come back whenever I want to read all the books I want, then I’d be okay with giving it to you. Sound fair?” Adrian opened his mouth to refute, but an arched eyebrow from (Y/N) told him that she wasn’t just asking to come back to read the books, she was asking to come back to him. He sighed, a small smile crossing his lips as he nodded.

           “Alright…that’s fair.” (Y/N) squeezed his arm then pulled away, bowing slightly she affirmed,

           “Then Adrian Tepes, as the last owner of the Belmont Hold, I, (Y/N) Belmont, hereby entrust all that it is, and all that it will ever be, to you.” Adrian’s face lit up at her at her words, his smile broad and full of joy, making her heart sing.

           “I-I don’t…thank you (Y/N).” He bowed his head slightly and she leaned down, quipping,

           “Oh my god, are you crying?” Adrian brought his hand up, rubbing at his eyes.

           “No, I’m not crying.” (Y/N) smirked and glanced at Trevor, joking,

           “You better get a good look brother of mine. I don’t think you’re going to see such a comedic scene for an awfully long time.” Trevor matched her evil look, crossing placing his hands on his hips quipping,

           “All the times I’ve made an ass of myself are so worth being able to see this.” Adrian glared at the siblings, then Sypha clapped her hands.

           “Come on you three, let’s go get something to eat.” The four, well, Trevor and Adrian, started to argue while they trekked to the kitchen, Sypha and (Y/N) simply rolling their eyes.

The Next Morning:

           Her heart felt heavy as she helped Trevor stack their belongings into the wagon. She and Adrian hadn’t spoken alone since her brother and Sypha had gone off the afternoon before, and their conversation had been awkward even then. She paused, holding the bag in her arms as she stared at the back. A gentle nudge brought her back and she looked over, seeing Trevor staring back at her. “You sure you wanna come?” (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow.

           “What are you talking about? Of course I want to.” She looked between Sypha and Adrian who were quietly talking. “Someone has to make sure that you two stay out of trouble.” Her brother looked like he had something to say, but he opted not to speak on it, instead, he took the last pack from her, tossing it into the back before turning to look at the Speaker.

           “Sypha…we’re ready.” The magician turned around and nodded, and Adrian walked them to the front of the wagon, helping Sypha up. He glanced down at (Y/N), questioning,

           “Are you sitting up there as well?” She shook her head.

           “No, I’m getting into the back.” He nodded.

           “Then I’ll help you up too.” Adrian directed his gaze to Trevor, who offered him a small smile and a wave. The vampire smiled, then it turned into a smirk as he flipped her brother off. Trevor’s face dropped and he scoffed,

           “Ah, fuck you.” The women laughed, and Adrian walked (Y/N) to the back where the two looked at one another, neither moving. She took a deep breath, then asked,

           “I hope you’ll keep a room waiting for me. You never know when I might decide to drop in.” Adrian took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles.

           “I’ll keep them all waiting for you if it means you’ll drop in sooner.” (Y/N) chuckled.

           “Don’t say something like that…I might never leave when I come back.” He met her gaze, golden eyes dead serious.

           “I wouldn’t mind that at all.” A smile grew across her face, but it turned into a scowl as Trevor coughed dramatically. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, then glanced over her shoulder.

           “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” She turned back to the vampire and leaned over, pressing her lips to his cheek. He helped her into the wagon, and she murmured, “Wait for me Adrian Tepes…I’ll be home soon.” Adrian’s eyes widened, then he smiled, nodding his head.

           “I eagerly await your return (Y/N) Belmont.” She grinned at him as she knocked against the bed, feeling it lurch as the wagon moved forward. (Y/N) didn’t shift her gaze from Adrian, even until he was a small speck in the distance. When he disappeared completely, she curled up into the bed of the wagon and buried her face into her knees, her heart breaking with each minute that passed.