#i am not over how desperate for Dracula to come back Death is in GoS

[the-crow-binary]

Hi! In scenarios where Dracula gets together with Isaac and/or Hector, what would Death's reaction be? This is just my Deathula self wanting to see that (つω⊂* )

Oh Death <3 Dracula's first, eternal simp <3 His forever husband <3 I bet seeing him get with Lisa was already hard enough, but then with his general(s)?? When he's right here?? :< Rude. :< It's not Hector nor Isaac who betrayed their old Lord to give him his soul :< It's not them who've been by his side for 400 years and protected him and nourrished him and guided him and helped him become who he is today :< What the hell? :<

He wouldn't say anything, of course, but Dracula starts to know him after living together for 400 years. It's obvious he is unhappy, even though all he wants is his master's satisfaction and happiness... and mouth and body and soul and love and

But even though, and he's the first surprised by that, he'd be a bit jealous... he also knows that Isaac and Hector are humans, and so, momentary :) They'll never develop the bond he already shares with Dracula, one that only immortal beings can understand. Dracula can have all the affairs he wants with mortal people, in the end, it doesn't matter, because he's always going to be The One. His only companion in eternity. Dracula always comes back to him no matter what, and Death is patient... a few decades are nothing in the face of eternity. <3

[beevean]

I know TvTropes is edited by different people, but I would dearly love to understand their general logic.

You find this in the YMMV page of Lament of Innocence:

Mathias is not afforded much grace for acting out of desperate grief, to the point that apparently some thought he didn't even deserve a second chance in the form of Soma.

Now, I would argue that LoI doesn't even expect you to cry over Mathias. It's very obvious that he has become a despicable person, using his friend as a pawn, causing the death of said friend's fiancée and not shedding a compassionate tear over her, and even believing he would be joined in immortality. But yes, I agree, Mathias is pitiable only to an extent: "wife died" is not exactly a compelling argument for rejecting humanity to the degree that he did.

... but then what about this, TvTropes? From the YMMV page of NFCV?

(you'd think Mathias would also get the moniker of Jerkass Woobie. nope)

One, NFCV didn't come up with the idea of Dracula lashing out due to the grief of Lisa's death. It comes from SoTN. NFCV only put more emphasis on it. Stop giving the show undeserved credit.

Two, really? Really. N!Dracula is really that sympathetic, that most of the voices he gets are all about how much of a poow bapyboy he is? What the hell do you mean, "he makes a good case against humanity"???? This piece of shit wanted to exterminate humankind and vampirekind (because he was aware that they'd all starve to death, he just refused to give a fuck) because one village didn't rise up against a bishop! When he yells "there are no innocents, not anymore", do you take him seriously?????

He does get a Moral Even Horizon voice, but it feels half-hearted, to say the least:

If you think it's hard not to sympathize with him and that being brought back as a treat rectifies it, then by definition it's not a Moral Event Horizon, because the very definition of the trope is that it's an act that makes a character completely and utterly unforgivable, on par with Griffith sacrificing the Band of the Hawk and raping Casca, to make a famous example.

(funnily enough they do the same with Lenore under the same trope, saying that apparently she understood that she crossed the line and tried to make amends. There's not, however, mention of Isaac killing innocent people and defiling their corpses for his selfish purposes. Inch-resting.)

I really, really am made uncomfortable by the serious apologism N!Dracula gets, and only because he cries a little more than his game counterpart. "He makes a good case against humanity", huh? Do you have any idea how many genocides started from motivations that were seen as reasonable? How many dictators tried, and are trying, to kill many for the perceived sins of few? Yes, I am fully aware that N!Dracula is a fictional villain, and he benefits from a cool design, suave voice, and multiple Pet The Dog Moments, I'm not really saying that his fans condone real crimes... but just like Lenore fans who justify her abuse and rape with real life rape apologism arguments such as "Hector consented at first" or "she wanted his own good", the rhetoric used here is honestly appalling.

But yes, on a pettier note, I'm also salty that game Dracula isn't afforded the same sympathy, even though he too is bereaved by grief. He just doesn't express it in a pitiable enough way. It's easier to go all 🥺 at a depressed man moping in a chair, isn't it? Ignore how said depressed man has hired two misanthropes to Forge demons to routinely send to slaughter innocent humans! It's off-screen, after all :) you don't need to see it :)

But you know who gets called Unintentionally Unsympathetic in the show?

And here I say what I said about Mathias: there is nothing "unintentional" about this, the show has zero pity for the peasants who were slaughtered. Much like you, person who roots for Dracula, the writing too painted them as stupid because believing the CHURCH BAD, and therefore, like all stupid people, deserving of gruesome punishment. Peasants are low-class and religious, and as such deserve death. "Cool" murderers like Dracula and Isaac, who are so intelligent and above the petty masses, instead deserve everything on a silver platter.

I really despise this show and the messages it sends. And the general anti-game bias, of course.

[nineteenninety-six]

A Little Bit of Sunshine

↳ Hector x Reader

↳ Word Count: 3.09k

↳ Requested by @shadechu​

A/N: I have never written for Castlevania before but I really enjoyed writing this, it flowed so easily. Hector is probably OOC but who cares lol. 

Anyway, enjoy :D

Hector had moved to a small town after everything had gone down with Lenore. After she died he realised how much damage she caused him, the lasting marks of her abuse and manipulation still scarred his body and mind and he could no longer stay in a place where they had lived and she had died.

The fact that he managed to escape the bond she had on him and that he was able to deceive her was only able to sustain him for a short while before everything fell apart and Hector was no longer able to act as if everything was okay, so he left and started anew.

The new town was on the smaller side but not small to the point where he would stand out. He easily blended into bustling crowds in the town centre and the residents treated him like any other local. For the first time in a long time, he felt normal, as working for Dracula was an experience that words couldn't explain.

He had his own little cabin in the woods where he could be at peace and the distance to the town centre was far but long enough for him to enjoy the sights as he walked past. All in all, he liked this new path of his life, it was almost completely different than it used to be and he expected to miss it but he enjoyed the calmness and serenity of this new path of his life.

On his usual weekly trip to town, someone called out to him, trying to catch his attention. it was a young woman, probably the same age as him and she was calling for his attention, waving him over to her stall.

"Sir! Sir!"

Hector looked up in surprise and as soon as the woman realised she had his attention a bright smile overtook over her face before she eagerly began to wave him over, swinging her arms back and forth over her head, gathering the attention of the other people around them.

Hector quickly shuffled over to them not wanting her to cause an even bigger scene and pull more attention their way.

"You're new aren't you?" Was the first thing out of her mouth.

Hector flinched in shock at her words, not expecting them. No one else knew he was new and that put him on edge.

"Oh don't look so surprised, I just know everyone that comes here."

Hector raises a brow at her words, " ... That's weird. You do realise that right?"

The woman shrugs, "Maybe but it makes for good business. People are more likely to buy something if I remember them from just previously meeting."

Hector realises that he's standing in front of a stall filled with baked goods, "You're a baker?"

"Family business," She clarifies, “I mostly do the selling due to my - "

"Charm?" Hector cuts in with a sarcastic tone.

"Actually, I was going to say my good looks but yes charm too." The woman grins.

Hector couldn't help but bark out a laugh, the woman never missed a beat.

"I'm (Y/N) in case you wanted to know" (Y/N) informed him with a wink.

Hector had to twist his lips so that the smile that so desperately wanted to escape, couldn't.

"Hector" He introduced himself.

"Well Hector, what can I get you? " (Y/N) asked, gesturing to the spread of baked goods in front of her.

Oh, she was smart. Catching his attention, making him come over to his stall and

converse with her in front of everyone and now he could surely not been seen walking away with nothing after taking up her time. While he didn't really care about the local’s opinions about him, he didn't want to be outcasted more than he already was.

"I'll have a loaf and a sweet pie please"

(Y/N) shoots him a bright smile and packs up his items, then collects his money.

"Thank you, Hector. I hope to see you again soon"

"I'll see you again" Hector responded

As he began to walk back home, Hector thought back on how easily (Y/N) made him feel at ease, how he brought a smile to his face and drew laughter from and he got scared.

This is how Lenore got her claws in him, she manipulated and lied to him before tricking him into servitude and he never wanted something like that to ever happen again.

He decided for the health of his mind, he would keep his distance from (Y/N). He couldn't find it in himself to completely ghost her and ignore her so he'll keep cordial. He'll be friendly but he couldn't let himself become close to her.

.•° ✿ °•.

His plan worked well, every time he went up to town he stopped by her stall and bought what ended up being his usual order of a loaf and a sweet pie, engaged in small talk with (Y/N) before leaving and it worked well for weeks until he had a dream about Lenore one night.

A mere dream had knocked him off-kilter. He had awoken a mess and fell out of his bed in his confused and frantic attempt to escape his blankets. He only managed to crawl a few paces before collapsing on the cold floor, his remaining energy only enough to let him roll onto his back. Hector blinked lazily up at the ceiling as everything he had locked away came rushing back. He relived the moment when he fell for her, the moment he realised that she had tricked him, the moment when she realised he betrayed her and then when she had died by her own will.

Everything that had occurred over the last few years played in front of his eyes and he hated every part of it. He could never forgive himself for being so naive and trusting yet he missed those traits of his.

When he 'awoke' again, the sun was moving low, signifying sunset wasn't far away. He pulled himself up and washed his face at the basin before he left his cabin, his feet taking him into town. The town centre was still busy despite the late hour and so was she, the woman who he came to see.

Despite the other stall owners who had either left or were in the process of doing so, her stall was still set up with what remaining items she had left. She was sitting on a stall with a book on her lap in a different world and Hector felt bad about disturbing her but he needed her.

He didn't even have to call her name, as soon as he was a few feet away, she looked up at him with a smile and closed her book shut, though when she got a proper look at him, her smile faltered.

"Hector?" She made her way over to him, brow furrowed in concern, "Is everything okay?"

He must look like a mess. He certainly felt it on the inside and he had been in a trance since he woke up, not paying any attention to his looks.

"I... um, I -" Hector stumbled over his words, his tongue suddenly heavy.

"Why don't you take a seat" (Y/N) guided Hector to her stall and offered him some water from the pouch at her side.

Seeing that he was in no position to talk about what happened, (Y/N) changed the topic slightly, "I thought you were not coming today. I got so used to seeing you, it would be a shame if I did not see you."

"But do not fret, I set aside your usual order for you," She said as she showed him a little wrapped up basket.

Hector nodded, the change in conversation took the pressure off his shoulders and he felt more at ease to speak.

"What do you do with the ones you do not sell? "He asked

"Today these are going to the homeless. I usually alternate between them, the orphanage and poor families"

"That is kind of you. Nobody did anything like that when I was young"

"I think the world is horrible enough with the wars and death and it costs nothing to do a little good within your own community" (Y/N) then looked up at the sky and noticed the changing colours, “Do you want to come with me as I give these out?”

Desperate for more of a distraction, Hector agrees and he helps her clear up her stan before they set off to a different part of town, him carrying the basket of baked goods for the homeless.

“Do you have any family, Hector?” (Y/N) asked.

Hector shook his head, his grey hair swishing around his chin as he did so, “Just me”

“Hm, well if you want any annoying younger siblings, I’ll eagerly give you all of mine”

“Surely they’re not that bad-”

(Y/N) lets out a laugh, “One day I’ll take you to meet them. You’ll regret your words!”

As they walked around, handing the food to the less fortunate, Hector noticed the strange way (Y/N) behaved. Her head constantly twitched one way to the other, as if someone was calling for her attention but she stopped herself before fully turning around to see and her eyes were flickering about like seeing things that weren’t there.

“(Y/N)? Is everything okay?” Hector asked

(Y/N) froze when he spoke, looking at him with wide eyes, she twisted her head around to make sure no one was nearby before she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hidden alcove.

There was fear in her eyes as she gripped his hands tightly, “I am telling you this because I trust you but you cannot tell anyone or they will kill me.”

“(Y/N)...?”

(Y/N) casts one more precautionary look around her before speaking, “I can speak to animals”

Hector blinked in surprise, that was the last thing he expected.

“You...speak to animals?”

“Speak, understand, you know the whole thing”

“...The whole thing?” Hector repeated after her.

(Y/N)’s shoulder slumped in disappointment at his words, “You do not believe me. Of course, you don’t, I sound like a crazy woman.”

“No, no!” Hector was quick to reassure her, “I don’t think you’re crazy, of course not.”

(Y/N) gripped Hector’s hands tighter in relief and he suddenly realised that they had not stopped holding hands since she had dragged him. Her hands were soft but strong and steady and they fit perfectly in his, he never wanted to let go.

“I could do since I was a child and I told my parents but they thought I was a child with a large imagination so they ignored me,” (Y/N) began to elaborate on her talent, “And when I was ten there was a witch-burning in our old town, an older woman was accused of conjuring spirits and setting against the people of the village but in reality, she was just a sick old woman who needed help. After that, I knew I couldn’t let anyone know about you know what”

“Why did you tell me?” Hector asked.

“...I don’t know. There’s something about you, so understanding, empathetic, trustworthy. I know I can trust you.”

(Y/N) had revealed her deepest secret to him, made herself vulnerable yet he could not do the same to her, though the ability to communicate with animals was much different than being a forgemaster.

“You can trust me, I promise I will not tell anyone.”

(Y/N)’s shoulders relaxed and she gave him a brief smile, “Your belief in me means more than you know.”

“Now,” Hector lifted the basket up, “Should we finish what we started?”

It had progressively gotten darker, the sun only moments away from going down completely.

“Of course! We must finish before it gets too dark.” (Y/N) stepped out of the alcove and hurried down the street, dragging Hector behind her, still holding on to his hand.

-

It was dark by the time they began to walk home, Hector insisting on walking her home so that she wasn’t alone at night. She stopped in front of a little cabin, not unlike his, it also wasn’t that far away from his.

“You don’t live with your family?” Hector asked.

(Y/N) shook her head, “It is better for me this way. I love my family, truly but the chance of them finding out about me is something I can’t risk. I cannot truly say that they wouldn’t expose me… there are some things that are beyond even family ties.”

“Anyway,” (Y/N) spoke with a sigh, “It is late, I need to sleep. Thank you for today, Hector. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Hector waited until (Y/N) had reached her door and spoke again, “Can we...meet again soon?”

(Y/N) gave him a toothy smile, “Of course. In two days by the lake? I can bring a picnic for lunch.”

Hector nodded, “I’ll see you then.”

He waited until her door closed before he made his way home, his heart feeling happy. He had forgotten how he felt earlier that day and (Y/N) had completely turned his day around. He did feel guilt though, he went to for help, a distraction which she provided and then she revealed a deep secret of hers yet he couldn’t even tell her about his nor his past with Lenore or history with Dracula and being a forgemaster. The things he carried were heavy yet (Y/N) had already been so understanding and kink that he didn’t fear telling them to her, he knew she would understand.

In two days at the picnic, he would tell her.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) was already by the lake by the time he arrived, speaking out loud to someone he couldn’t see but when he heard the responding barks and yelps, he realised that she was talking to a dog. He hurried his pace to catch up to her, excited to see her communicate to animals in person.

“Is that a dog you’re speaking to?” He shouted as he jogged over to her.

(Y/N) spun around with a smile, “Yes! I’ll introduce you to him!”

She crouched down and took the dog into her arms before turning towards him after he finally reached her,

“Hector this is- Cezar”

“-Cezar”

Hector and (Y/N) spoke at the same time. Hector stared at the dog he had not seen since Carmilla had dragged him away after Dracula died and (Y/N) stared at Hector, surprised he knew the little mongrel dog.

Cezar eagerly barked at Hector, his tiny body wriggling in excitement as he tried to escape (Y/N)’s hold, so she let him down and watched as he raced over to Hector barking like mad and when Hector kneeled down, the door jumped into his arms and wiggled some more.

“...So I guess you know each other then?” (Y/N) asked.

“Cezar is my dog,” Hector explained, giving the small dog rubs and pats, “I got separated from him a while ago but how did you meet him?”

“We stumbled across each other last year and then we became close companions...but I’ve always been curious about something about him.”

“Is it that he looks like he should be dead?”

(Y/N) laughed, “Yes, Hector. Don’t get me wrong, I love the little dog but he looks a bit beyond his years.”

Hector put Cezar down and together they began walking towards the lake so they could set up their picnic.

He took a deep breath before he began to explain what he could do, “I’m a forgemaster.”

“Forgemaster? What’s that?”

Of course, she wouldn’t know what that was, her world was not the same as his.

“I can bring back animals and humans from the dead and call demons from hell.”

“Wow...that’s uh...wow”

“I’m sorry for dumping this on you, I know it’s quite heavy stuff.”

“I did not know that was possible”

“Many don’t. It’s beyond comprehension.”

“If I wasn’t looking at proof right now” (Y/N) pointed towards Cezar who was trotting ahead of them, “I wouldn’t believe it either.”

“Is that what caused you such distress the other day?” (Y/N) asked as they found a place to sit down.

“No, no, that was about Lenore.”

(Y/N) kept quiet allowing Hector to speak at his own pace.

“I was taken captive, stuck in a cell and Lenore gained my trust, pretending that she was someone that I could trust only to betray me and me her slave to her and her sisters. I was under their or more specifically her control for over a year until I managed to trick her and end the ‘bond’.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Dead. She was a vampire and decided it was her time to go.”

“Did you love her?” (Y/N) asked

“No, I don’t think I did. After I realised what she had done to me any feelings that I may have had disappeared, they were not formed authentically. I still feel incredibly stupid about the whole thing, I was foolish to believe someone who was involved in sisterhood with the person who captured me would genuinely care for me.”

“You were not foolish, you were human Hector '' (Y/N) comforted him, “You were vulnerable and she took advantage of that, you should not feel ashamed. You are strong that’s why you’re here with me right now and Lenore is no longer alive. You will never be proud of yourself if you keep on diminishing what you’ve achieved so far. You’ll never be happy and I want you to be happy”

Hector takes her hand in his, “I want to be happy.”

(Y/N) smiles at him, “You will be, I know you will.”

“I want to be happy with you”

“Oh-” (Y/N) smile changes into a softer one that tickles Hector’s heart, “I want to be happy with you too.”

“Imagine it,” Hector falls onto his back and tugs (Y/N) down with him, “You, me, Cezar in a cabin in the woods and all the animals you wish to speak to”

(Y/N) laughs, “You wouldn’t believe how chatting animals are, I’m fine with just being me you and Cezar for the moment.”

Cezar jumps up on Hector’s chest with a bark before settling down with a huff.

“Sounds like he agrees”

[nyxshadowhawk]

Things I love about Season 4, Episode 10

*SPOILERS*

Episode 10: It’s Been a Strange Ride

1. Season 4 Hector is great, and I wish we saw more of him. (Also that pose reminds me of someone, can’t think who…) I like this whole philosophical conversation about the difference between power and strength.

2. I mean, I wanted her to die in a fire, and technically she did! Just… not in the way I expected. I’m still very angry that Lenore is being presented as sympathetic, and that Hector likes her at all. I don’t feel like her abuse of him in the previous season was properly addressed or overcome. An “I’m sorry” isn’t going to cut it. But, it could be worse. I would much rather have this than them ending up together.

3. “I think I felt part of my brain die just trying to follow that logic.” And children have been calling him father? That’s adorable!

4. “And I was hoping you could help me teach this brilliant but fairly useless man how to live his life.” HAHAHA! I like this. I like this idea of building around the castle and a bright new future. It brings full circle all of the important themes that have been brought up throughout the series. The “where do we go from here?” question, the preservation of knowledge that was so significant in seasons 1 and 2, and the concept of rebuilding for more people. In fact, I think we’re all feeling that way after the pandemic — the way forward is to start rebuilding, and to have hope for a better future.

I also like that there’s a Ship Tease between these characters, but not an outright ship. That implies that Alucard is still capable of loving, but doesn’t force a relationship. And, I can’t believe I missed this, but “Greta of Danesti” is meant to be Grant Danasty.

5. Okay… so, I assumed that a bittersweet ending was the best I could have expected out of a show like this. Trevor dies, and I’m not terribly surprised. I didn’t expect the writers to pull a trope as sentimental as the Disney Death, but God, am I glad they did!

6. “You know what scared me the most? […] That you might end up calling the kid ‘Trefor’ after all.” 
“How did you even know?” 
“Please, this is me! How do you think I managed to say single and carefree all these years?”
 “CAN SOMEONE PLEASE COME OVER HERE AND KILL THIS MAN?”

(Ah, so that’s how there’s a whole village’s worth of Belmont descendents in Ecclesia!)

7. “You have a village now? What’s it called?”
“Treffy.”
“Can someone please come over here and kill me!”

8. Alucard is weirdly happy! And believes that whatever happens next, it’s going to be worth it. Hearing that from him brings me so much joy! That’s all I wanted for him.

9. “I think we finally won.”

10. WOAH, WHAT? Wow, if even these two get a happy ending, then… wow! Wow! Although now, I can’t really help but wonder where the story is going from here, if the rumored spinoff series happens. Much of Castlevania’s lore is dependant on Dracula being the incarnation of evil, and the Belmonts (and co.) having to fight him back century after century. I’m not sure what this means, but I am so happy and pleasantly surprised that Dracula and Lisa finally get to be together in happiness. I hope they come to visit their son eventually, because I know he’d like to see them (though I doubt Dracula would agree to live in a village called “Belmont”). (Also Lisa, if you insist that Dracula go by Vlad now for the sake of inconspicuousness, then maybe your surname shouldn’t be “Impaler.” Sorry, I had to.) And Dracula intends to travel to England? Of course.

***

I just… wow! What an emotional rollercoaster! I went from feeling distressed, to feeling melancholy, and then to feeling very happy all in the span of the last hour! I didn’t dare to believe that there would be such a heartwarming, happy ending after such a dark show! For one long and harrowing year I assumed that the creators would find other ways to emotionally screw me over. But in the end, I got what I wanted! In spades! Everything came full circle, and returned to the idealism that originally drove the protagonists in Season 1. How do I feel now? I feel like I just fought a long battle. I feel… relieved, more than anything. Relieved that it’s finally over, that the metaphorical sun has risen.

More than anything else, I’m grateful to this show for bringing Castlevania, and everything related to it — its music, its artwork, its fanart, its characters, its memes, and the games themselves — into my life. I am so happy it exists for that reason alone, let alone everything else! And now that I’ve gotten the closure I desperately needed, I can reclaim my love for it!

What a phenomenal show!

[hime-memes]

                                                       • Dracula - Random Chapter Starters  •  

These starters have been taken from a random chapter in ‘ Dracula ‘, by Bram Stoker. 

As always: Feel free to change anything within these starters that you see fit to make it work for your muse & the receiver’s muse !

Recommended For: Vampire / horror themed muses/plots/timelines.

** Any slight wording changes / sentence break ups made to the original text is to accommodate for RP purposes or more clarity. **

Trigger Warnings: Death, Funeral Preparation, all the themes you expect to find in Dracula. 

“ The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that ( Name ) and ( Name ) might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly formalities. “  “ She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir ! “  “ There were no relatives at hand ... “  “ Under the circumstances, ( Name ) and I took it upon ourselves to examine papers. “ “ ( Name ) Insisted upon looking over ( Other Name )’s papers themself. “  “ This is not altogether for the law. “  “ You knew that when you avoided the coroner. “ “ I have more than him to avoid. “  “ It is not well that her very thoughts go into the hands of strangers. “  “ Explicit directions regarding the place of burial were given. “  “ There was a wilderness of beautiful white flowers, and death was made as little repulsive as might be. “  “ All ( Name )’s loveliness had come back to her in death. “  “ Instead of leaving traces of ‘ death’s effacing fingers ‘, the beauty of life had been restored. “  “ He / She had not loved him / her as I had, and there was no need for tears in his / her eyes. “  “ Remain until I return. “  “ He came back with a handful of wild garlic from the box in the hall. “  “  Tomorrow, I want you to bring me, ( before night ), a set of postmortem knives. “  “ Must we make an autopsy ? “  “ But why do it at all ? The girl is already dead. “  “ I pity your poor bleeding heart. “  “  If I could, I would take on myself the burden that you do bear. “  “ I may err -- I am but man; but I believe in all I do. “  “ And yet, you saw how she thanked me with, with her so beautiful dying eyes ... “  “ There are strange and terrible days before us. “  “ Let us not be two, but one, so that we work to a good end. “ “ Will you not have faith in me ? “  “ Devotion is so rare, and we are so grateful to those who show it unasked to those we love. “  “ This was stolen in the night ! “  “ How was it stolen since you’ve got it now ? “ “ ... Because I got it back from the worthless wretch who stole it ! “  “ There was a mortuary air about the place that lowered our spirits at once. “  “ He looked desperately sad and broken ! “  “ You loved her too, old fellow ! She told me all about it and there was no friends that had a closer place in her heart but you. “  “ ( Name ), is she really dead ? “  “ I have grown to love you --- yes, my dear boy/girl, to love you. “  “ Call me what you will, I hope I may always have the title of a friend. “  “ There will be pain for us all; but it will not be all pain, nor will this pain be the last. “  “ The service was very simple & very solemn. “ “  I’m always anxious about ( Name ), for I fear some nervous fit may upset him/her again. “  “ I must not ask him, for fear I shall do  more harm than good. “  “ Oh, ( Name ), you will, I know, forgive me if I do wrong, but it is for your own dear sake. “  “ You will be grieved to hear ( Name ) died five days ago. “  “ Oh ! What a wealth of sorrow in a few words ! “  “ Poor ( Name ) ! ... to have lost all the sweetness in his/her life ! “  “ God help us all to bear our troubles ! “  

[whosscruffylooking]

Instinct Part Two: Interrogations and Intrigue (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: I'm super excited for this part. Spencer and Reader’s relationship finally has some foundation!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings! Mentions of suicide and manipulation. 

(Reader’s POV)

I tap my foot anxiously as I peer around the bland and intimidating interrogation room. It looks like something out of a mental asylum in a 1980's horror movie. They want me frightened? They got me.

Count Dracula barges in abruptly and sits opposite from me. I wince at the sound of the metal chair scraping against the cement floor.

“My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I'd like to take a moment to get your description of the man who broke into your apartment," he shows no emotion.

I nod, "Well, he had his hood up and a bandana on, but from what I could tell, he had green eyes...maybe blue...or hazel. I'm sorry, I'm not a hundred percent sure. He was just a little bit taller than me, so maybe 5'8 or 9. He climbed out of my window, so clearly, he's at least slightly athletic. He disguised his voice; he made it sound almost like Batman."

He writes down some notes. A statement that the other agent presented to me at the crime scene puzzles me. I decide to inquire for myself.

"The other agent..." "Dr. Reid?" "No, Emma? Emily?" "Yes, Agent Prentiss." "Yes, her. She told me at the ambulance that I might be the key to solving this. What did she mean by that? This wasn't just a one-off robbery? How could it involve me?"

He purses his lips, obviously pondering the right response, "What do you know of the Nomad Boys?"

My heart rate rises, but I promptly disguise my anxiety. "You get straight to the point, don't you," I quip, "I know that they used to operate about a block from my old neighborhood growing up. A lot of people have lost their lives because of them. Both figuratively and literally."

"Are you aware of your brother's involvement with them?" Agent Hotchner examines me.

I gasp. What kind of game is he playing here? I shift uneasily in my seat, "Excuse me?"

"We have significant evidence that your brother Jeremy was involved with the Nomad Boys from 2015 until his death."

I slam my fist on the table, "How dare you. How dare you bring my brother up and implicate him in illegal activities that he had no part in. Is this what you people do? You're so desperate to close a case that you can't admit defeat in then you pin it on people who aren't even here to defend themselves?"

"You seem relatively defensive yourself. Care to explain why?" The emotionless man taunts.

"Two hours ago, I was the victim of a failed robbery, and now I'm being interrogated by the feds about my dead brother? Is that not a good enough reason to get defensive?" I clamor back. 

Tears sting my eyes and threaten to spill over as I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand, trying frantically to suppress my growing rage. He watches me like a predator to its prey. The sound of my rapid heartbeat muffles my hearing. I can feel my skin heat up with anger. I stare right back, eager to display my disdain for his treatment.

"If you'd excuse me," he gathers his files and leaves the room. I exhale shakily and hastily wipe the stray tears from my eyes, desperate to gain my composure.

(Spencer's POV)

Hotch exits the interrogation room and clutches my shoulder, "You're up. She knows more than she's letting on, even if she doesn't realize it. She will feel more comfortable with you." "Hotch...I-I feel like maybe Emily or Morgan should go in. Not me." "Why?" He glares at me. I swallow the lump in my throat. 

I have a job to do.

"Forget about it," I say, stepping past him into the dimly lit room. She looks up at me with pleading eyes, silently begging me not to put her through what Hotch did. I sit across from her, noticing her obsessive picking at the skin of her fingers. Her knee bounces and lightly taps against the underside of the table.

She takes a deep breath and breaks the stillness, "Whatever it is they are thinking, it's not true. None of it is true. They're wrong." 

"Y/N, I appreciate your willingness to cooperate and come back to the precinct with us and sit in here to be interviewed." 

She throws her head back and laughs, "My willingness to cooperate?Interviewed? You mean interrogated, right?"

"I know this must feel like an ambush," I say, and she jeers, "but I promise if you just hear us out, the sooner we can rule you and your brother out of this." 

She sits up, eyes wide, her posture defensive, "You just said my brother and me. Am I a suspect too? For god's sake, I don't even know what we are suspected of! Do you think I'm apart of the Nomad Boys too?" 

Strike one, Spencer. Don't screw up again.

"I didn't mean it like that, y/n." 

"But you said it," she crosses her arms.

"I need to ask you some questions about your brother's death." 

"I'm going to be sick. Screw you, Dr. Reid." 

I can't manipulate her. I don't want to. I can't use months of researching her to achieve our agenda. 

It doesn't feel right. Why doesn't it feel right? 

But for the efficiency and success of this case, it's required.

"Every day, you wake up in fear of the nightmares that haunt you each night. You live with the images of your brother engrained in your mind. The patterns he used to follow every day have now been adopted by you, most likely in an attempt to keep his spirit alive somehow. You are constantly looking over your shoulder because, still to this day, aspects of his death leave you unsettled and uncertain. You opened the door today because you were under the impression that the person on the other side would be able to offer you insight into your brother's death. He couldn't because he had another agenda, but I can. I can give you that insight; I just need you to work with me." 

I watch as she struggles to fight the pain that comes from masking her fear. I got to her. 

Why do I feel so guilty? 

Her lip trembles as she begins to speak, "I know he didn't kill himself. That's all." "What makes you so sure?"

She releases a sob and then grapples with composing herself, "B-because he loved his family. He loved life. His girlfriend was pregnant; he was going to be a father. What kind of man who was so family-oriented and had such a bright future ahead of him would do that to himself, to his future child?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize he had a child." "Aren't you guys supposed to know stuff like that? Shouldn't you come in here armed and ready with any ammunition needed to break me down?" She cocks her head. "We do. We try to find out all vital information on our suspects and those connected with them." "That's how you know that I follow the same routine as my brother? Have you been watching me?"

I can feel a bead of sweat drip down the back of my neck; I reach my hand around to pat it off and to buy myself time to come up with a sufficient answer. She chuckles, "You don't have to answer that. I've seen you and Count Dracula in there tailing me."

My heart stops, and I swallow unexpectedly, slightly choking in the process. "For professionals, you sure don't take into consideration the fact that most people are suspicious of black SUVs now...mainly because of tv shows. Black Suburbans with tinted windows are either law enforcement or a celebrity. And judging by the fact that no celebrity would ever willingly set foot in my town, I was quickly able to determine which I was looking at every Monday and Friday from 10am to 5:30pm. You should really try getting some red cars, maybe blue, just try and blend in a bit." 

"Actually," I begin falling back on my knowledge as a way to diffuse the situation, "Any vehicle, when suitably modified, can be utilized as a police vehicle, but the most prevalent are those produced or altered by manufacturers for the role of being a police vehicle."

"Validation and dissemination: am I making you uncomfortable, Dr. Reid?" She raises her eyebrow. I adamantly shake my head, "Not at all. I was merely dissecting your point and proving it to be a failed tactic to intimidate me."

She looks at me keenly, but not in the way she had looked at Hotch. No, she peers at me as if striving to convey a message, an offer to be her ally. While locked into her gaze, I can't help but study her. Contrary to all of the times we followed her, hidden within the shelter of our car, I can now learn her up close. She is attractive in a flawed, approachable way. Her vulnerability camouflages a might that even she doesn't perceive exists.

(Reader's POV)

I study him thoroughly. He baffles me. A man in the station he is, maintaining the job he has, and bearing the weight of both victims and perpetrators on his shoulders, should be coarse, bitter, emotionless, much like the first agent who grilled me. Yet, here he is, eyes lighting up when he starts to spout off facts. His nervous ticks overflow, making it seem like he is incapable of withholding the truth of what this job does to him. He doesn't want to put me in this position. He's not like the standard brute that treats this job, and it's prey as if they are nothing but a bridge to walk over to get appreciation and approval.

"I want to help you," he proposes in a hushed tone.

"I know," I whisper, easing back in my seat. 

Unexpectedly, he offers me a wink and then stands from his chair. Stepping over to the door, he clasps the doorknob but delays for a moment. I look at him in anticipation. Looking back at me, he declares, "I'm going to get you answers. I promise you that." And with that, he's disappeared behind the two-way glass. A feeling of being left alone in an alternate universe overwhelms me. 

Spencer is somewhere out there on the side of the good guys, his reputation untainted, with the certainty that he will be going home tonight. I, on the other hand, have lived in uncertainty since my brother died. Here I sit, on the side of the glass that is riddled with darkness and evil. Spencer lives in a world of heroes. But I have been subjected to the world of criminals. I have a feeling, though, that I won't have to navigate it alone. 

Tag list:

@mcntsee

[anncanta]

Wing to wing

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Mature

Thanks to @khyruma​ – the beta of this work. You are beautiful and I am your fan.

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges

Read on AO3

Or read below

‘Was it necessary to tell them that Mr. Balaur was you?’

Agatha tried unsuccessfully to move and leaned back again on Dracula, to whom she was tied back to back. On the other hand, she thought, okay, he did a stupid thing, but who was making her talk? Why did she claim to be a vampire?

‘What should I say? Balaur is important to all of them. To some, he is a partner, to others – a patron, and they had nothing to accuse him of,’ Dracula responded angrily. ‘I wanted to calm them down. If you didn't meddle with your... lectures on linguistics, we would be free.’

‘You would be free,’ Agatha corrected. She jerked her hand awkwardly and groaned as pain pierced her wrists.

When taken by surprise in cabin number nine, Dracula presented the imaginary ‘killer’ to the frightened captain and passengers, Agatha was dragged to hang without any equivocation. Standing with a noose around her neck on a barrel and fighting weakness and nausea, she tried to appeal to their minds. Alas, in vain. They needed the culprit for the horror they experienced. Agatha was perfect for this.

She looked down at Dracula, as Olgaren and Sokolov were arguing, who was casting meaningful glances at her, and shouted the first thing that came to her mind.

And she made a mistake.

Whatever Agatha wanted to achieve, the word ‘vampire’ did not help her in this, sowing panic and anger among the passengers. She was helplessly watching the dispute, turning into a fight, when suddenly Olgaren, apparently deciding to end everything at once, jumped to the mast to which Agatha was tied, and pushed the barrel.

Peeling off the skin, a rope cut into Agatha's neck. Almost blinded by horror and pain, Agatha felt herself falling down... and landed in a tight embrace.

‘I still think, gentlemen,’ she heard through the noise in her ears, ‘that the situation should not be made... ugly.’ Lifting her eyes and rubbing her neck, Agatha looked at Dracula skeptically. ‘We'd better turn the criminal over to the authorities.’

‘Who are you to tell us what to do?’ Olgaren asked snootily.

Then Dracula said it. That he is Mr. Balaur.

The rest happened so quickly that neither Agatha nor Dracula had time to react. Surprisingly harmoniously for the people who had almost fought a minute earlier, the remnants of the crew and passengers of the Demeter pounced on them and, tying them to each other, dragged them to cabin number nine.

‘How I hate it,’ Agatha said, looking at the wooden ceiling. ‘This fatuous cabin. And you probably provoked them on purpose. Your games again!’ she flared up. ‘If you were so easy to tie, I would have –”

‘What?’ such a frank smile sounded in Dracula's voice that Agatha wanted to elbow him. Alas, she still couldn't even move her hand. ‘Would you tie me up? Immobilize me?’ he paused. ‘And then what, Agatha?’

‘I would kill you,’ Agatha replied casually.

‘Are you so sure?’

‘What else can I do with you?’

‘Judging by how cleverly you handle the knife,’ he grinned, ‘you yourself have a liking to��� different games. Those bodily, hot, and passionate.’

In the silence that followed his words, Agatha heard her breathing and the distant rustle of waves coming from the porthole.

‘You think too… highly of yourself,’ she said quietly, looking down at her own bound hands. ‘And besides,’ she turned slightly, speaking louder, ‘you wouldn’t allow me anything like that anyway.’

‘Oh, why?’

‘Because you are arrogant, obsessed with power, and... and why are we talking about this at all?’

The broad back, on which Agatha was leaning, straightened.

‘You are wrong, Agatha,’ ignoring the question, said a low voice near the top of her head, ‘I would gladly put myself into your hands. And take whatever you’d give me.’

Agatha felt her cheeks begin to glow and knew that with the nape of his neck he felt the pulse beating on hers. She took a breath.

‘You have a false opinion of me,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘I know little about such pleasures. As you can see, I'm not pretty,’ Agatha added sharply. ‘Therefore, no one was particularly eager to…’

‘You are attractive, intelligent, and passionate,’ he smiled again, ‘an enchanting combination. And I don't care about those who were so blind as not to notice it. As for inexperience – it just means that before letting you deal with me, I should... well, let's say, put you in the know. Trust me, it's very fast.’

Saying this, he made a short movement, and the ropes that held them together disappeared. Agatha looked at the scraps on the floor and shook her head. Another performance, as she thought.

‘I don’t want to listen to your obscenities,’ she frowned. ‘Have your respect, Count Dracula. Remember you are talking to a nun.’

‘To the same nun who teased a naked man in the middle of the yard?’ clarified Dracula, getting up. Agatha said nothing. Now they stood looking at each other. ‘Exactly, a nun,’ said Dracula. ‘Aren't you interested in how it all works?’

‘That’s none of your business,’ snapped Agatha. She tried desperately not to look embarrassed, telling herself that he was just palavering to her, trying to fool her, like the passengers and the crew – with rope and captivity. She needs to find out what he really wants.

He looked around.

‘No, we need to get out of here.’

‘So you can possess me?’

‘So you know what you are giving up.’

Dracula went to the porthole and began to examine the lock.

‘To possess…’ he muttered annoyedly. ‘Where do such expressions come from? Were you raised in a monastery? Oh yes,’ turning to Agatha, who grunted, he held out his hand to her. ‘Come here.’

‘I’m not going anywhere with you,’ Agatha said. ‘You are ill-mannered and socially dangerous.’

‘Well, you were definitely taught by a German governess with a three-foot ruler,’ Dracula sighed and went up to her. ‘Do you want guarantees?’

‘What guarantees?’ Agatha was surprised.

‘What do you suggest,’ Dracula threw up his hands. ‘How should I behave so that you condescend to my company?’

‘Stop drinking blood,’ Agatha said uncertainly. ‘Do not attack people –’

‘Die,’ continued Dracula happily.

‘Listen!..’

‘Quiet,’ he raised his hand and walked to the door. He stood for a while, listening, then returned to Agatha. ‘Here's what we’ll do,’ he said. ‘I'll taste animal blood. Let's say dogs or pigs. This will at least prevent me from starving to death. I’ll still need human blood, Agatha,’ seeing her eyes flashing, Dracula immediately said. ‘Blood is lives. Not just food, but stories. But I'm sure that I can think of something here too,’ he added. ‘And now – we are leaving.’

He went back to the porthole, tore off the iron lock with one hand, then grabbed the frame and tore it out by the roots. Agatha, amazed, watching his actions, approached and carefully touched the edges of the splintered boards sticking out in the place of the window.

‘Why did you do it?’ she asked. ‘You can turn into bats.’

‘For you,’ Dracula said shortly and pushed her towards the aperture. ‘Hurry.’

Taking a deep breath, Agatha climbed out the window.

***

‘They'll think they were right about us,’ Agatha said, leaning the back of her head against the side of the carriage.

‘Because the guilty are running?’

Agatha nodded.

Dracula shrugged.

‘The main thing is that there should be no chase. But I think they were happy to get rid of us.’

‘Oh yes,’ she smiled involuntarily. She closed her eyes. ‘I feel so dizzy... And the road is so... bumpy.’

‘Lie down.’ Looking at Dracula, Agatha saw him pointing to his lap. ‘There is nothing more I can do for you,’ he said in response to her indignant look.

‘I did not ask…’

‘We have a few more hours to go,’ Dracula interrupted her. ‘You will vomit. I have nothing against natural fluids,’ he said, ‘if you remember. But I don’t think you will enjoy traveling in a carriage full of…’

‘I get it,’ Agatha said wearily. ‘Thank you,’ she added very quietly, her head resting on his firm knees covered with a woolen cloak.

‘You are welcome!’ smiled Dracula, running his fingers through her hair.

Agatha quickly fell asleep from rhythmic swaying, fatigue, and weakness.

***

Agatha woke up feeling herself being carried somewhere. Opening her eyes, she breathed in the scent of fine wool mixed with the smell of the road, and at once, remembered everything.

‘We're almost there,’ Dracula's deep voice resonated in her chest and echoed throughout her body.

‘Put me down, I'll go myself,’ Agatha said in a voice hoarse from sleep.

‘Not worth it,’ Dracula turned, took a few more steps. The sound of the door being unlocked was heard, and, raising her head, Agatha saw that they had come into the bedroom.

‘Bed,’ Agatha moaned with relief.

‘And clean linen, and a bath, and breakfast,’ Dracula laughed cheerfully. ‘People need so much.’

‘You need that too,’ Agatha said, wrinkling her nose. ‘By the way, what about your… food…’ she began as Dracula threw back the covers and put her on the bed.

Dracula straightened, smiling, as she pulled the covers up to her chin.

‘Don't worry, Agatha,’ he said. ‘I will not stay hungry. Not far from here there is a barnyard with pigs in it. Not the most sumptuous breakfast, but…’

‘But better than killing innocents,’ Agatha yawned. Her eyes began to droop again.

‘If I start killing the guilty, I’ll get fat,’ Dracula chuckled. ‘I’ll leave you, dear. If you need anything, call the maid – her room is nearby.’

‘But what about your desire to show me... what is there... what I have lost...’ Agatha muttered sleepily, ‘when I left for the monastery?’

‘Not today,’ she opened her eyes when he was again very close. ‘Get some rest. We will talk about your lapses in life and your innocence later,’ Dracula finished in a very intimate whisper and left the room.

Agatha looked after him thoughtfully, turned over on her side, and fell asleep.

***

The next day, waking up fresh and rested, Agatha found at her disposal a wardrobe full of clothes, a helpful and efficient maid, and an excellent breakfast. Having dealt with the latter, she washed off the road dirt, and, asking the maid where she could find the Count, Agatha went down to the first floor.

The house was large, obviously old, and the previous owners seemed to have left it quite recently. Looking out of the living room window, Agatha saw the garden and the outbuildings peeping around the corner. Noticing the figure of Dracula passing next to one of them, she headed there.

Going around the perimeter of the house and heading into the backyard, Agatha passed the small stable and moved towards the barn – voices came from it.

‘...an exceptional sample. Landrace*,’ Agatha heard, pushing the door open. Stepping inside, she stopped at the threshold.

Dracula stood in the middle of the barn, dressed in a white shirt, exquisite vest, and trousers. In his hands was a large pink pig.

‘I can guarantee the quality,’ said a short man, standing with his back to Agatha, who looked like a merchant. ‘You can be certain of it.’

‘Fine,’ Dracula said, lowering the pig to the floor. It crawled into a corner and, it seemed, lay there on a heap of rags. ‘Excellent breed, I'm happy with everything. Get me four of them by the end of the week.’

‘As you command, sir,’ the merchant replied. ‘Noble pigs,’ he added proudly, looking back at the corner where the animal lay, grunting. ‘Rest assured. Everything will be at its best on Friday,’ he hurried, catching Dracula's impatient gaze. He repeated: ‘The pigs are excellent. If you want, maybe a litter.’

‘I don’t need the litter,’ the Count responded coldly. ‘On Friday you will bring the pigs, then you will receive the money. I am not delaying you any longer.’

The merchant nodded respectfully, bowed, confusedly said goodbye to Dracula, and, without looking at Agatha, left.

‘What is it?’ When the door slammed shut behind the merchant, Agatha asked, after a short pause.

‘Breakfast,’ Dracula shrugged. They turned and looked at the pig for a while in silence. The animal seemed absolutely content with life. ‘They surprised me, you know,’ he said.

‘Tasty?’ Agatha asked carefully.

‘Smart,’ Dracula threw up his hands.

‘Wow,’ turning around, Agatha moved to the exit. ‘Well,’ she said, breathing in the fresh morning air, ‘one less problem. Agree – ’

‘How are you feeling?’ he was next to her so quickly that Agatha almost recoiled. Straightening her back and not wanting to show that she was scared, she ceremoniously replied:

‘Good, thank you.’

Dracula smiled.

‘Shall we take a walk?’

Agatha frowned. After a moment's hesitation, she accepted the hand extended to her.

They walked towards the garden.

While they wandered among the yew hedges and fruit trees, Agatha learned from Dracula that the house he had brought her to was not the one that Harker's firm had bought for him. Not wanting to shake for another hour in a fiacre through London, Dracula asked the coachman where a decent housing could be rented nearby and found out that the Duke of Wilmore's mansion in the West End was vacant. The owners left there just the other day and put the house up for sale.

‘Do you like it here better?’ Agatha asked with interest. ‘You only know Carfax from stories, though,’ she recalled.

‘I like it here,’ Dracula said slowly. ‘What about you?’

‘I... well, I…’ Agatha stopped. Suddenly, she realized that she was not at all thinking about herself, about where she was – and about the future. Rather, from the moment she offered Dracula to eat her instead of Mina in the monastery, Agatha was sure that she had no future. Now, when it turned out that Dracula intended to eat Landraces, his question puzzled her.

What is she going to do next? What status is she in here? And how is she going to deal with all this?

She looked at Dracula. He was joking, wasn't he – when he said that he was taking her with him in order to...

‘Do you have friends in London?’ her thoughts were interrupted by Dracula.

Agatha shook her head.

‘Nobody.’

They walked a few more alleys and turned towards the path that led to the main entrance of the house.

‘You could be my attorney,’ Dracula said after a few minutes of silence. ‘After Jonathan’s death, I don’t want to deal with his law firm again,’ he explained in response to her surprised look. ‘And you are smart, educated, and will do an excellent job with this.’

‘I'm not a lawyer,’ Agatha said. ‘If you need…’

‘I need a person who can manage my affairs,’ Dracula did not let her finish. ‘This does not require a lawyer's license. And I will pay you handsomely.’

Agatha stopped and turned to face him.

‘Are you trying to buy me, Count Dracula?’

‘I'm trying to give you what you deserve.’ He looked like he was holding back a laugh. You don't have to agree. But I think it's better –’

‘What about your plans?’ burst out from Agatha.

Dracula stared at her in silence.

‘You said you'd be glad to put yourself in my hands,’ she said smoothly. ‘Have you forgotten?’

The pause did not last long.

‘No, I haven't forgotten.’ Dracula tilted his head and moved closer to her. ‘But I also remember that we figured out that before that happens, you need…’ he smiled briefly ‘some overview lessons. I do not want to suffer from clumsy hands.’

It's all nerves, travel and blood loss, Agatha thought indifferently. Otherwise, it would never have occurred to her to answer:

‘I am at your service, Count Dracula.’

Dracula's eyes sparkled. For a moment he looked at her – her hair loose over her shoulders, a simple brown-gray dress. He smiled anticipatingly.

‘I will come to you tonight. Don't lock yourself up.’

They walked the rest of the way home in complete silence. Once inside, Dracula moved down the corridor towards the living room.

‘Still, think about being an attorney,’ he said, hiding behind the door.

***

He came after midnight, when Agatha, who had been wandering around the house and the garden all day, had already changed her clothes for bed and even thought that in the end, she would just sleep. He opened the door and entered without bothering with questions and permissions. This is his home, Agatha reminded herself, as she watched Dracula approaching her.

There was no need to talk. She did not even want to be ironic and did not want to argue. With amazing clarity, Agatha suddenly realized that the fact that he was here was not only – and not so much – his decision, and this is obvious. It was always obvious.

Dracula raised his hand and carefully touched her shoulder.

It reminded her so sharply of what was in the monastery that she recoiled.

‘Agatha?’

When she came to, she realized that she was sitting on the bed, silently looking at Dracula and as if she was numb.

‘Agatha, if it's that scary…’ Dracula began.

‘No. No... it's okay,’ Agatha said slowly.

Dracula looked at her hand, with which she unconsciously grabbed her left shoulder, and understood everything.

He sat down beside her and leaned over to her.

‘Give it here.’

Obediently opening her fingers, Agatha exposed her shoulder. The scar was not the same as Jonathan's – not a laceration, a thin cut. Dracula leaned forward, touched it with his lips, gently sucked in her heated skin, and let go.

‘That's better?’

‘I think so,’ Agatha whispered, feeling the tips of her fingers begin to tingle.

She let him lay her back into bed and unbutton her nightgown to her waist. Seeing him lower his head to touch her breast, Agatha closed her eyes. The needles in her fingertips turned into flames and slowly crawled up her arms.

When he pulled away from her, she opened her eyes.

‘Agatha, how could you consider yourself unwanted?’ Dracula asked in a hoarse voice. ‘My blood boils for you.’

Agatha smiled, embarrassed.

‘Just don’t burn me,’ she said softly.

‘No way,’ Dracula whispered, burying his face in her neck, starting to caress her again.

He was impatient and unhurried at the same time, and Agatha did not understand how this was possible. He touched her as if he knew exactly where and how she wanted, forcing her to moan, bend, sob and beg.

And then it was tender. Deep. It hurt a lot, but when he stopped to let her catch her breath, Agatha shook her head in protest. With her arms and legs wrapped around him, she did something she had never done before – let go of control entirely.

The pleasure wiped away the remnants of pain, scattered doubts, it appeared as crystals of salt on her skin. She seemed to be whispering his name. Or maybe she just swore from the heart – also for the first time in many years.

Very slowly, Dracula slid off of her and pulled Agatha after him, not releasing her from his embrace.

‘My name is Vlad,’ he muttered somewhere in her hair; the low voice mixed with laughter and happy weariness. ‘I wanted you to know – just in case.’

Unable to move, Agatha only groaned something unintelligible and made herself comfortable, letting languor and drowsiness take possession of her.

Tomorrow. All the rest is tomorrow.

***

Opening her eyes, Agatha saw that outside the window was a cloudy misty morning, and she was alone in bed. Getting up and throwing on the lace peignoir that lay in the chair, she went to the window and flung open the high sashes.

It smelled of moist spring air and the feeling of close summer. Agatha sneezed and looked down.

In the courtyard in front of the house, Dracula stood and, apparently, was arguing with a tall, large man. In one hand the man had a big knife, in the other – known to Agatha – yesterday's Landrace. The pig jerked its legs and struggled desperately.

Vaguely, Agatha remembered that Dracula, upon arrival, could find only a maid and a butler for the house. The rest of the servants, including the entire staff for the kitchen, he was going to recruit later, and at first, the maid could handle the preparation of the simplest food.

Well, Dracula probably decided to start home improvement seriously and hired a cook, Agatha thought distantly, looking at a tall reddish fellow who cheerfully brandished a knife. Either he accidentally hit the Landrace, or simply frightened it with loud screams, but it squealed, broke free, and rushed across the yard at a gallop.

Dracula and the red-headed giant simultaneously rushed after the boar. But Dracula, of course, was the first to do it. Picking up the pig in his arms, he gently scratched it behind the ear and turned to the cook. Agatha did not hear what he said, but, apparently, something very stern. Agatha could have sworn that there was a triumphant expression on the Landrace's muzzle. The chef's face turned to stone.

Holding back her laughter, Agatha put her palms on the windowsill and leaned out of the window.

‘Vlad,’ she said clearly and loudly. Dracula turned around and grabbed the Landrace more comfortably.

‘What?’ he asked with a smile, causing a wildish fire to crawl along Agatha's spine again, like the night before.

She lifted the corners of her lips slightly.

‘Don't play with food,’ she said sternly.

‘Or what?’ The pig in his hands twitched an ear, and Dracula soothingly ran his fingers along the top of its head.

Agatha felt her cheeks go red.

‘I’ll be very angry,’ she said and closed the window.

Just five minutes later, footsteps were heard outside the door, and Dracula entered the room. He was without a Landrace – instead of a pig, he held in his right hand a long silk curtain cord. Agatha glanced briefly at the rope – at Dracula's fingers caressing the ribbed surface, at the heavy tassels hanging from the ends.

‘I didn't have time to sin very much... today,’ he said quietly. He walked over and handed her the rope. ‘But you have to start somewhere.’

As if in a dream, Agatha nodded.

* Landrace is the first specialized bacon-type pig breed.

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Dracula helped you out of the coffin and held you close in his arms, not wanting to ever let you go again.

"Vlad, I was so scared." You told him, pressing your face into his chest.

"Me too." He said, stroking your hair. So he was right after all. You were Maria. You had finally come back to him at last.

You still felt weak and held on to Dracula for support. Not only did you feel weak, but you felt... different. You didn't know what it was, but it was like all your senses were maxed out. It was so overwhelming. There was also this new scent that you discovered. It smelled delicious, but what was it? You wondered looking around trying to find the source.

"What did you mean that you remember everything?" Van Helsing asked, concerned for you.

You faced him, realizing just where that smell was coming from. Your eyes shined bright red, an intense hunger in them...hunger for blood. Normally you would have been repelled by such a thing, but right now you needed it more than ever. Van Helsing watched you nervously as you inched toward him.

"Y/N?" He said nervously backing away, but you did not answer. All you could think about was his blood, the taste of it on your lips. Dracula noticing your odd behavior, grabbed you by your shoulders and held you back. Why? He did not know. He had wanted to kill Van Helsing himself earlier. Perhaps he was trying to prevent you from doing something you would regret.

You squirmed, trying to wriggle free, but Dracula held you firmly in place. "Let me go!" You hissed at him, revealing for the first time your fresh new set of fangs. Van Helsing stared at you wide eyed. What had he done? You were no longer the sweet, brave, and kind Y/N, you were now a monster. He should never have let Dracula turn you. But then you would be dead...looking at you now, maybe it would have been better that way. He just lost it in a moment of grief.

"Calm down, darling." Dracula spoke in a soft voice, trying to soothe you. "You will feed soon, I promise."

Van Helsing glanced up at him. "What do you mean?" 

"She is in a very crucial time right now. She needs to feed." Dracula urgently explained to him.

"So what will you do, go kill another innocent person?" He asked, raising his voice.

"We have no choice."

Van Helsing sighed. "Then she can have some of mine."

"That is not necessary, Doctor Van Helsing." He refused.

"Yes it is. I won't have you or her killing anyone else. I'll run into town and get my supplies. I'll be back soon." He said, buttoning up his coat, turning to leave.

"Henry, take the coach if it's still there and take him home." Dracula ordered. Henry nodded and promptly followed Van Helsing out.

A few minutes later the tapping of horseshoes against the ground could be heard as they disappeared into the night leaving you and Dracula alone. You closed your eyes and let out a long sigh, then looked up at him.

"Is that what it's like for you all the time?" You asked, now realizing how difficult life was for him. How tempting it was to feed on human blood. Even now with no mortals around, you desired it. Dracula simply nodded. "It's horrible...I can't believe I wanted to...to..." You winced at the thought of hurting, maybe even killing Lawrence. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you close.

"Come, let's wait for them upstairs." Dracula said, guiding you from the dungeons and up the stairs. When you reached the entry hall your mouth fell open in shock. This was the first time you had seen the castle in ruins. You felt a very intense anger. How dare the townspeople do this to your home, to Dracula's home!

"What do we do Vlad?" You ask, looking around. He squeezed your shoulder and replied, "We'll find some place else. Anywhere is home as long as I have you."

As you waited for Van Helsing to return, your mind wandered. You thought about how strange fate was. In your previous life you were married to Dracula and Van Helsing was his power hungry step-brother who killed you. In this life you were Van Helsing's friend who ultimately reunited you with your lover.

"What's wrong?" Dracula asked, noticing how quiet you had become.

"I was just thinking. What happened after...after I died all those years ago?" You asked. Dracula knew this question was inevitable now.

"Well, Van Helsing fled and joined the Turks. Soon after, we went to war and I was killed during one of the battles. As I lay there dying from my wounds, the devil appeared to me. I sold my soul and in return I would have my revenge on the Van Helsings." He told you.

"That's when you became one of the living dead?" You asked. He nodded. "But Lawrence doesn't know about any of that. He told me he wanted to get rid of you because he thought you were a threat to humanity."

"He's right. I am." He admitted. "I didn't care how many lives I took. How much blood I spilled. None of them mattered as long as I didn't have you. I was just as ruthless in life as I am in death."

"And now?"

He paused for a moment, thinking. "I don't know..."

Suddenly, from out of the wreckage you heard some rustling followed by a series of painful moans. Dracula pushed you behind him ready to attack whatever it was. From beneath the debris, a man crawled out. He was covered in dirt and blood, the smell instantly flooded your nostrils. "H-help me..." The man pleaded as he slowly pulled himself across the floor. Dracula looked over at you and saw the hunger return in your eyes and how you licked your lips, desperate for just a little taste. He didn't want to admit how turned on he was by this. He smiled and stepped aside, letting you pass. He wasn't about to let you miss out on your first meal.

Your eyes were fixed on the man before you, like a predator staring down it's prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"I'll help you." You lied, your voice sounding menacing.

"Oh, thank you I-" He peered up at you and saw what you had become and let out a blood curdling scream. "Nonnnoo! Please!" He cried, cowering away, but you didn't hear him. You were focused on one thing. You grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off the ground making him eye-level with you. You hesitated for a moment. You knew you shouldnt. That this was bad, but he did try to kill you and your love after all. He deserved it. Your mouth was practically watering as the sound of his pulse pounded against your eardrums. Dracula stood behind you and whispered in your ear, "Do it." Before the man could utter another plea for mercy, you sunk your fangs deep into his neck. His blood dripped down your lips and chin as you sucked every last drop from his body. Dracula wanted you now more than ever. You moaned and threw your head back enjoying the taste of blood as it ran down your throat. Once you were finished, you tossed the corpse back into the rubble he crawled out of.

"How do you feel now?" Dracula asked, eyeing you lustfully. You grinned at him. "Much better, darling." You answered in a husky voice, running your finger under his chin. Unable to resist you a moment longer, he twirled you around and pressed you flush against him. Leaning down he licked some of the blood from your lips, then he roughly pressed his mouth on yours. He could still taste the blood as he slipped his tongue inside. It drove him mad. You couldn't help but let out a moan when he suddenly nipped your bottom lip as he pulled away. You both stared longingly into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity.

You went to kiss him again, but were interupted when Henry and Van Helsing returned.

"Y/N! What have you done?!" He exclaimed noticing the fresh blood around your lips, running towards you. He looked down at the man's lifeless body, a horrified expression on his face. "You killed him..."

"What of it?" Dracula sneered.

"Don't you understand? She killed an innocent man!" He yelled.

"He wasn't so innocent when he tried to kill us." You quickly pointed out.

"Y/N, why? I thought you were better than this." 

"I guess I'm not who you thought I was." You said coldly. Van Helsing felt his heart break again at how much you changed. He wanted to take you far away from here, far away from Dracula. To try to find a way to get his Y/N back. He'd rather you be dead than live out eternity like this...Van Helsing sighed. He had no other choice. He had to kill you and Dracula before it was too late.

"I guess not." He agreed. "There's nothing more I can do if this is the life you've chosen. I'm leaving for London tomorrow." Dracula eyed him suspiciously. Was he really willing to just leave you alone? To just ignore the fact that you might kill again. Did he really care for you that much?

"Will I ever see you again?" You asked, still wishing to remain friends. Even though his ancestor had murdered you in your past life you didn't hold it against Lawrence. He was different.

"No, I don't think so." He replied, looking away.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said sadly, but you understood.

"I am as well." Van Helsing said. You pulled away from Dracula and went over to your friend, pulling him into a hug. Why did you have to do that? He thought. It only made things more difficult for him. He knew the real you was still in there somewhere, but the vampire took her place leaving a shell of what you once were. You placed a quick peck on his cheek and backed away.

"Goodbye, Y/N." He said, knowing that this was the last time he was going to see you alive, knowing that when the sun came up it was up to him to end your damned existence. He turned and left without another word.

Dracula felt your distress and wrapped you in his arms in a comforting embrace. It was getting close to dawn now. He needed to find you a coffin before daylight broke. So, after he knew you were alright he left with Henry to the local cemetery to find you a coffin.

You wandered the castle ruins thinking about Lawrence. He had been your only friend in the world till now. No one else had stopped to give you a second thought, but he did. He was there for you when no one else was. At one point before you came to Transylvania, you thought you loved him, but he was too involved in his work. His work was his ultimate passion, and you knew you couldn't compete, so you never did. You sometimes wondered what it would be like if you had chosen a life with Van Helsing. Would you be a silly little domestic couple with a house and kids? It was an amusing thought, but neither of you were the type.

Finally, Dracula and Henry returned a little while later carrying a coffin. It wasnt anything fancy, but it would do. Perhaps later, you could get a better one. Sunlight started peeking in through the windows as they hurriedly carried it into the dungeons, placing your coffin beside Dracula's.

"Too bad they don't make couple's coffins." You joked.

"Maybe we could have one made." He teased, kissing your neck where he had bitten you, making you shudder. "I love you." You said softly running your fingers through his hair.

"I love you too." It was so pleasant to hear him utter those words. You wanted to hear him say it again and again.

"Sleep well, darling." You said with a yawn, as you lay down suddenly feeling tired. You took one last look at him before shutting the lid. This wasn't an ideal lifestyle, but you loved him and that's all that mattered.

The sun rose into the sky and the birds began to sing their morning song. It would have been a beautiful day if it not had been for the task that Van Helsing had set out to do. He crept back inside the castle, bag in hand, being careful not wanting to draw attention to himself. He stood in the doorway to the dungeons, contemplating his next move. His chest was heavy as the thought about driving a stake into your heart. But he had to do it. He slowly opened the door and walked inside, and down the flight of stairs to the room where Dracula's coffin had been earlier. Now he noticed, that there were two coffins lying side by side, one belonging to you.

He reached inside his bag and pulled out a hammer and a couple of stakes. Van Helsing strode over to your coffin and pulled open the lid. Inside, you lay looking peaceful and content, a small smile on your face. If only it didn't have to be this way...

He pressed the stake between your breasts and raised the hammer high into the air, ready to strike. But he couldn't. The longer he stared down into your beautiful face, the harder it became to do it. He closed his eyes. Maybe if he didn't look at you...But he just couldnt. Why was this so difficult?

Suddenly, a voice shouted out behind him startling him. "Hey! What are you doing?!" Henry shouted, running at him, tackling him to the ground.

"Stop!" Lawrence yelled, shoving Henry off of him. Not listening, Henry raised his fist and slammed it into the side of Van Helsing's face, quickly tearing the stake and hammer out of his grasp.

He shook his head, feeling dazed for a moment.

"How could you do that?! I thought you wanted her alive?!" Henry asked throwing away his weapons across the room.

"I did, but after seeing what she has become I couldnt let her live like that...but I can't do it. I can't release her from this curse....It's all my fault." Van Helsing sobbed, his head throbbing. This is why he never let anyone get close to him in the first place. He had only himself to blame for this. There had to be another way and he was going to find it by any means necessary.

[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.

[5bi5]

We have known about the vampires in this town for a long time now.

Our whole way of living is sort of built around it, actually. The whole water supply is holy water – the water in our taps, in our pools, in our fire hydrants. I've always thought if I had to kill a vampire I'd want to do it with a fire hydrant. You have to think about these things, you know. They teach you in school: wear a cross, carry a stake, hang garlic over your door. Never invite someone into your home unless you are certain you can trust them. And for God's sake, don't go walking alone after dark without some kind of weapon handy.

Things happen, of course. Things are always happening. People will just quietly disappear – most of the time the bodies are never recovered – and although it can't technically be said for certain just what happened, everyone knows. And then they talk. In hushed voices, in places where the family of the deceased – sorry, the "missing, presumed dead" – can't hear them, they talk. She must have done something wrong, they whisper. If she had just worn a cross like she was supposed to, if she had just stayed inside after dark, this would never have happened. Stupid girl – this was always bound to happen to her.

We all grew up watching those same vampire movies as everyone else. Dracula, Nosferatu, even Twilight. Let me tell you something: vampires don't sparkle. There is no sure way to identify a vampire until it's too late. Until there's no time to reach for that stake that you always keep in your purse, that if you could just get to it, maybe you could save yourself, fuck, where is it, where is your purse – there's no time for that. You're already dead.

Although I grew up knowing about the vampires, constantly hearing warnings and rules and stories, I didn't see one (not knowingly, at least) until I was twenty. At this point, although I knew theoretically that I could be attacked on any given day and it was important to be prepared, subconsciously I had begun to believe that it was never going to happen to me. I'd never so much as glimpsed a vampire in two decades, and everyone just droned about them constantly. Surely, if it were going to happen, it would have happened by now.

So, as I cooked a romantic dinner for myself and my boyfriend of three months, the threat of vampires seemed as distant as the possibility of an anvil falling out of the sky and crushing me to death. I was gearing myself up to tell him I loved him for the first time; I was not a romantic person by nature, but things had been going really well so far, so I wanted to make an effort. That effort also included making coq au vin and, in the interest of staying as kissable as possible, omitting the two cloves of garlic which the recipe called for.

That particular evening was one of the darkest and rainiest I had seen in some time, so when my boyfriend showed up twenty minutes late and apologizing profusely, I just told him not to worry, and ushered him in out of the rain.

"Why don't you take a shower while I get dinner on the table?" I suggested. "I can give you a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt." I wasn't really sure my clothes would fit him, but he was soaking and shivering, and he took me up on my offer right away. At worst, I got to see him in a too-tight shirt, right?

I gave him the biggest t shirt and sweatpants I owned, and I set about pouring wine and dishing up soup. In the interest of both warmth and atmosphere, I dug out just about every candle I owned – which, to be fair, was only a handful – and set them on the coffee table, where we could admire them without the smell mingling with the scent of the food. By the time everything was ready, he was back, wearing my sweats and shirt. They fit him better than I would have guessed, but he was still clearly uncomfortable, frowning and tugging at the shirt hem to stop it from riding up. It wasn't exactly the start I had pictured to our perfect romantic night, but hey, if something had to go wrong, this didn't seem so bad, right?

"You look cute." I said, grabbing his hand away from his hem and squeezing it in both of mine. "Come on, Griff, let's just have some dinner."

Griff gave me what might have been a forced smile, and sat down. "Thanks for making this."

"Happy to." I smiled back and took my seat across from him. I decided to wait until his mood improved a little before I sprang the whole "I love you" thing on him. I didn't want to freak him out.

We ate mostly in silence, and I regretted not thinking of a romantic soundtrack to put on. By the time we finished, I was desperate for some kind of noise – or just something to take the sullen expression off of Griff's face – so I suggested we watch a movie. We settled on The Hangover; again, not exactly how I had hoped the evening would go, but whatever made Griff happy.

It didn't take long for his attention to wander away from watching the movie and towards kissing me, which was all fine as far as I was concerned. Good thing I'd left out that garlic, right? I closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss, trying to parse whether this was the right moment to tell him. Before I could decide, however, he suddenly sprang away from me with a gasp.

When I opened my eyes, it was obvious what had happened, but my brain refused to register it. That burn mark in the shape of a cross had been there before I leaned towards him, hadn't it? It wasn't from my cross, the one I always wore around my neck, was it? It wasn't from any cross, of course not, my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I wish I hadn't wasted precious seconds processing all of this. Maybe I could have done something, said something, at least moved, before he was tearing the cross off of my neck with another pained yelp and leaning back over me. The jig was up now, and it was clear that unlike me, he wasn't wasting any time.

I wish also that I could say I survived through some great, heroic moment, but that's not what happened. I just sat there, shellshocked, until his mouth reached my neck and he began to bite – and then my body seemed to act of its own volition, thrusting him away from me with both hands. This caught him off guard, and he fell backwards, landing directly on top of every candle I owned. His shirt – my shirt – caught fire, and he dashed out the door into the rain.

At the very least, I can say that I made the conscious decision to lock the door, and then barricade it with a table. That's about all I managed to do before collapsing on the couch, back into the same spot I had been just minutes beforehand, and burst into tears. I didn't even bother trying to stop the blood leeching from my neck; I just cried until at some point I eventually fell asleep.

They taught us so much about preventing vampire attacks that it never even occurred to me before that moment that I had never been taught what to do if one did take place. Maybe it was assumed that if you got attacked by a vampire, you weren't surviving. Still, that seemed to nullify the point of carrying stakes and wearing crosses and blessing the water and whatnot. Maybe it was because everyone in this town seemed to believe that if you got attacked by a vampire, it was your fault – if you were smart, you wouldn't be out after dark in the first place, now would you?

Except I wasn't out after dark. I was wearing a cross. I survived. And now I had to continue surviving with no idea how to proceed. I couldn't ask anyone, either – even if they didn't lecture me to my face, surely they would whisper about me behind my back. Stupid girl, didn't even realize her own boyfriend was a vampire. What was she doing, inviting him into the house, when he clearly wasn't trustworthy? She should have known better.

For days, I stayed in my apartment, afraid to go out. I showered, with holy water, of course – except, weeks later, it dawned on me that Griff should have been hurt by the holy water. So, what was the truth? Was holy water not really an effective weapon against vampires, as we had always been taught, or was the water we had always been told was holy not really holy at all?

I did the best to cover the wound on my neck with makeup and collared shirts. There was no one there to see it, but I couldn't bear to look at it, and when it wasn't covered, I couldn't stop. I'd just stand in front of the mirror and stare at my neck, thinking of everything I should have done differently. Still, I was alive, wasn't I?

Wasn't I?

The first time I went out, it was to gather supplies: more stakes, more crosses, more garlic. Matches, bottles, spirits, and rags. Knives, too, although I didn't know if they would help or not. I wasn't really sure what I knew anymore.

The second time I went out, it was to hunt. No more being shocked, no more being attacked in my own home. I was taking the fight to them. After all, what was the point in trying to stay somewhere safe if nowhere was safe? What was the point in following the rules if they weren't going to protect me?

The vampires in this town have known about us for a long time now. What started as a solo effort has now grown into a small movement, which I'm proud to say consists of several people whom I saved from vampires. People who, like me, had no instructions on how to proceed – except for the ones that I gave them.

Of course, they've had time to prepare now. They protect their hearts more carefully, they don't reveal that they're vampires until they're alone with a victim, they even carry what I assume is non-holy water to put out any fires we might start. Often, our efforts feel futile; sometimes I'll go hunting several times and not come across anyone I can say for certain is a vampire. It's hard to know for sure if I'm making the right call. Sometimes it feels as if I am making no difference at all, as if I am still sitting on the couch doing nothing.

Still, things happen.

[dietdrpepper4men]

RIP 2 My Youth

AN: I know I usually write for star wars but fuck it, twilight. I got inspired by @ssa-holmes for this story! Go check out their fic “My Forever” for more Felix content! :)

Warnings: Blood, character death, Edward fucking something up but what isn’t new, I wrote this at 6 am so it may or may not make sense who knows.

Maybe listen to this while reading :) 

WC: 1.5k 

Not my gif

You never thought death would be like this. No really, dying after your sisters boyfriend threw you into a wall in a vampire throne room in Italy? It seems like Edward may have a thing for getting the Swans almost killed, or in this case most certainly killed now. 

You were home for the winter semester from college with Bella during the pit of her depression, Edward had left her with a hole in her heart and essentially ripped out the foundation of her second family in Forks out from under her. It was great to see your sister adjust to life with a family outside of yourself and Charlie, considering you were only home for so long during the year. But hearing her speak about the Cullens so highly just made your heart leap, even if you were in agreement with your father that Edward was the bane of both of your existences. But what sealed the nail in the coffin for you with your hatred of Edward was him abandoning her after her birthday, in the fucking woods. 

But now, now this whole situation takes the fucking cake. You had decided to complete the spring semester online so Bella at least wasn’t cooped up only with Charlie, but so she could at least have someone else to support her along with her friends from and outside of school. You were finishing up a final paper on the couch one night when Bella came home one evening, you had let Alice in and was about to yell that to Bella as the door opened, but her small screech was enough to alert you that Alice had just stood by the door and waited for Bella to notice her. 

You had known about the whole vampire situation when Bella confided in you about it during the winter, you had ordered takeout for the two of you and watched a movie in the living room. Which the takeout was just bait you could spend some time with her, but you didn’t know that Dracula would strike such a nerve with her, especially when he was confessing his love to Mina. If just picking some other movie would have saved you from doing several hours of mental gymnastics and having to rationalize the Cullen’s as vampires you would have just put on Pirate of the Caribbean instead. Unless Edward somehow happened to also be a pirate, but that was besides the point. 

Now, now a whole other level of bullshit was happening. Which mainly involved flying across the world with your sister and Alice, and committing grand theft auto, to save Edward from exposing himself to some humans. Who knew indecent exposure in the vampire world lead to death? Anyways, now that Bella had run off, you and Alice had made it to the palace a little while after her. Just trailing behind enough so that Bella could make it to Edward in time. When you two arrived you took a second to marvel at the fact that Alice practically punched the lock of the door to open it, but then took a little bit of time to marvel at the two men standing in front of Edward and Bella. 

Though you only took a quick glance at the blond haired man, the man with the dark brown hair, who stood at least a foot and a half taller than you was mystifying. And for a split second when your eyes met it felt like a a rope around you was pulling you towards him, you hadn’t even noticed that you were moving util Alice grabbed your hand to stop you. With that, another shorter blond girl walked down the hall and ushered you all towards the elevator. The ride was awkward enough, but the tension was cut for you at least whenever you stole a glance at the man standing behind you. His gaze always met yours and the brush of his hand against yours was a welcome comfort, the flush in your cheeks didn’t die down the entire ride, and his gentle smile could have easily caused you to melt on the spot. But all good things must come to an end, and it did when the elevator dinged and you were led out. Alice stayed close to you, but it was most likely to ward off whoever just managed to flip your world upside down. 

The next thing you knew was that Edward was being interrogated, then subsequently Bella. The man in the center of the room, Aro, was taking great joy testing Bella’s immunity to different gifts that his guard had possessed that he barely left you with some time to enjoy Edward getting his ass handed to him by the same small blond vampire, Jane, from before. Though after that Aro turned his attention to you, Alice let your hand go as he beckoned you forward, 

“May I?” His ruby eyes were blown with curiosity as he held out his hand, though waiting for you to place your hand in his. 

Though the demand was posed as a question, denying a millennia's old being a simple request to read your mind seemed like a one-way ticket to being drained like a capris sun in front of your sister. 

“Uh, sure, no problem” you chuckled awkwardly, compliantly placing your now clammy hand in his, and watched as he covered his other hand on top of yours. 

It was an odd sensation as her probed your mind, it felt like you were put in a small daze while he poked around at your memories and thoughts as he please. But nearly as soon as the sensation started it was over. 

“My my,” he tutted, “Another human has found a mate among us” He clapped after releasing your hand, “Felix, its so wonderful that you’ve found someone”

Felix, that was it, your lips perked up in a smile as you walked back to your small group. The name fit him well, you remember one obscure memory from your high school Latin class, you were picking latin names at the beginning of the year and one name that stood out to you was the name Felix, it meant happy. So maybe that smile he had when he first saw you was the first taste of happiness he had for the first time in years, or maybe even centuries. 

While you had been too entranced in your own thoughts, you didn’t hear Aro give the order, nor did you see Felix walking towards Bella, but what you did notice was a hand on your shoulder and a quick yet forceful push to said shoulder. And the next thing you knew you were slammed into a wall. Marble no less, and not to mention you had the privilege of listening to a symphony of your bones breaking and your skull cracking. The rest was a blur, you could feel your velvet soft blood coating your nose and matting your hair together. Your vision was blurry and your hearing was fuzzy. But you could make out Bella screaming your name, and the warm touch of her hand in yours. But as soon as you felt it, it was gone as Bella ran away from you. Everyone else was standing still. And Felix was holding Edward down as Bella pleaded for his life. 

The only thing keeping you warm now was your blood enveloping you in a pool, it was enough to keep the vampire’s disinterested as most of it was laying stagnant and cool on the floor. The betrayal you felt was unmatched, but understood. If Bella’s established bond was as strong as yours was with a passing glance? You would sacrifice everything as well to keep Felix safe from harm. 

Your heartbeat, once pounding in your ears was slowly dying out, the blur of someone running to your side once you saw the shapes of Bella and Edward embracing was enough to keep your eyes open for a little longer, no matter how heavy they felt. 

“Cara mia, just please stay here a little longer.” Felix pleaded. 

He was bundling you up in his arms, a hand on the back of your head to keep you supported. His voice was so soothing, so warm despite his freezing hands holding you close. Everything was so dark now, your vision was fading like a tunnel. Maybe just a short rest and this would all be over. Bella again had rushed to your side as Felix pulled you to his chest. Edward was trying to pull her away desperately, knowing that your death was now under the jurisdiction of the Volturi. And that he and Bella would have to explain to Charlie that his oldest child went missing on a beach day on their little trip to Italy and was never recovered. Even though he would be staring their killer straight in the face when they returned to Forks. 

Your vision finally blacked out, and the last thing you remembered was the feeling of teeth sinking through your flesh. 

-Fin-

[hamburgerhelpersotherhand]

Château P2

Castlevania x Reader

Warnings: 🧛Mentions of blood and crying like a big baby.

Notes: Alucard is pretty yumm

You’re not sure how long it had been since the sun had set.

You seem to be rather lucky at the moment, finding a path in such a thick forest and all. Of course, you guess that following it will lead you to some sort of populated area. But, how lucky can you really be? Your decorative slippers are beginning to wear down, your dress is partially ripped from the low hanging branches and your hair resembles a rat’s nest.

Obviously, no giant mutant bats have approached you because you’re much more putrid than they find themselves to be.

Hold on.

You stop in your tracks for a moment, noticing a flickering light in the distance. You remind yourself of things that emit light and come to the conclusion that what you’re seeing in the far distance is a lantern.

Following a strange light doesn’t seem very smart but you’re sure your options are more than exhausted if you don’t.

So you take off after the brilliant glow of this newly discovered lantern. Your steps don’t make much noise, but the crunch of the dead leaves make quite the ruckus.

An ear piercing screech can be heard somewhere high above and behind you. Of course those foul beasts kept following you. There’s no way they wouldn’t!

As you continue to run, you notice the lantern nearly vanishes into the brush.

Desperate, you call out. “HELP!”

The lantern seems to come back for a moment, but that moment is cut short as your foot catches itself under a root and pulls you down with it. You tumble for the third time this day, but this fall was much harder than the others. Sharp rocks rip at whatever parts of your dress previously lay untouched by branches, your palms scrape onto rough stone and you swear you heard something break.

You try to stand, but your knees buckle and drop you back down. As a result of being unable to stand, you cave in on yourself. The sore pains are really starting to kick in.

Another shriek cuts itself through the area and you begin to cry at the thought of being mauled by those vicious beasts. You can’t help it. Everything feels hopeless at this very moment. Your most desperate wish is to be back in Carmilla’s oddly cold silk sheeted bed.

The creatures land with a gush of wind. You only cower.

Their snarls are low and shake the ground as they come near. But... they stop their approach. You know this because they’re no longer moving and you’re no longer breathing. You’re holding your breath, listening. And they’re listening too.

Before you know it, they take off again.

Did they think you were dead? Your heart is hammering against your rib cage and there’s no way they couldn’t have heard it.

Once you can no longer hear their wings, you open a single eye to observe. Then you open the other as you sit up.

You’re still alone? You attempt to stand again, but your legs give way just as easily as they had before. As you feel around, you come to notice a growing trickle of blood gliding down your arm. You’ve... never been cut before. The thought of it begins to numb you, your arm feeling like it’s never been there rather than still being by your side. Your fingertips vibrate with a newfound fear. Blood doesn’t usually worry you, but seeing your own blood does. In the open, it lets others know you’re a free meal.

“Are you alright?” Asks a strangely calm voice. This time, it isn’t in your head, but rather an outsider. You manage to twist yourself to see the owner of such a sultry sound.

“Who are you?” You ask defensively toward the familiar blond beauty, managing to stand quickly yet unsteadily. Your legs can give out at any moment, but you’re pushing them to their fullest out of fear.

You notice his golden gaze sets itself on your arm’s wound. You catch on and speak up rather quickly. “I-I’ve got a lot of run in me.”

The stranger quirks a brow as he steps forward. You take a step back, trying your best to match him, but one misstep causes you to land firmly on your ass.

“I see that. You’re quite the fighter.”

That remark reminds you of your cowardly display moments ago, curled up in the dirt and crying. Your face heats up.

“You’re bleeding-“

“Are you going to eat me?” You cut him off.

He seems taken aback by your sudden question.

“That depends.” He playfully smiles your way, gesturing as he speaks. “Are you offering yourself up to me?”

You’re surprised and a little pissed by his words. Of course you would never offer yourself up to anyone. Whether it be by choice or not, Carmilla would never let you hear the end of it.

The stranger grimaces at your expression.

Behind him, a woman’s voice speaks. “We need to keep walking, Alucard.”

Alucard?

“A-Adrian Tepes?” You suddenly say with your newfound information. You knew you recognized him from somewhere.

“How do you know that name?” He asks, a scowl present on his face.

“There are portraits that resemble you in the castle— Dracula’s castle.”

The woman shows herself from behind the man. She’s human. “You’ve been in the castle?”

“Yes— I actually don’t know where I am right now. You see, I fell into a mirror and landed here.” You must sound crazy to anyone who hadn’t witnessed the mirror themselves.

“I see.” Alucard speaks lowly.

“I’ve never been this far from my mistress. I think I’ve been handling myself well, but you’re the first people I’ve encountered thus far.”

The woman exchanges a look with Alucard and whispers to him. “Mistress?” You don’t think she understands. “Come with us. We can drop you off at the next town, if that’s what you want.”

You shake your head. “No, no. What I want is to return to the castle.” You’re beginning to speak frantically. “Please, I don’t know how well I’ll fair during these times!”

The woman looks back to Alucard. He nods to her before taking the reigns and speaking for the both of them.

“We’ll bring you.”

The woman angrily yells out. “Alucard! We can’t bring her, she can’t fight.”

Meanwhile, Alucard seems to be rather composed as he watches you. “But she proves to be a good distraction.”

As they bicker about your use, your head begins to weigh down, your eyes flutter shut with barely any control and sound is but a fading memory. Your hand reaches over to your arm and you draw back to find your hand covered in blood. Huh. You guess you’ve been bleeding this entire time.

Your head violently comes in contact with the ground and you black out almost instantly.

~

When you come to, you find yourself lightly swaying. Then you begin to notice the noise. Something like.. hooves kicking up dirt.

You bolt upright with wide eyes and take in your surroundings.

You’re on the back of a wooden wagon drawn by horses. Around you is an old fur coat, no doubt to keep you warm.

“How was the nap?” Alucard asks, bringing your attention to him. He’s seated on the edge of the wagon, his sight set on you.

“Is she finally awake?” Asks a gruff, borderline uninterested voice.

“Yes, she’s awake.” You reply bitterly.

“Good. We can leave her at the next town.” The man shoots back.

Alucard smiles in your direction, feeling quite amused by the short exchange.

“I’m Sypha.” The woman from before speaks. You turn around and spot her looking your way. She’s sitting next to the strange angry man you had just spoken to. He appears just as you had imagined. Dirty. “This is Trevor.”

“My name is Y/N.” You share and Sypha smiles your way.

“I bandaged you up.” She says. “If you still want to join us you’re more than welcomed to—“

“Excuse me-“ Trevor attempts to cut in but is in-turn cut from the conversation entirely.

“—but please know that it’s not safe.”

You nod your head after giving it some thought. There’s no other options on the table. Staying at a nearby town can still result in your death, at least by returning to the castle you’re becoming Carmilla’s problem once again. Besides... you’re starting to miss her.

“Were you and your mistress close?” Alucard asks.

You look his way and nod your head once more.

“If I may ask: what’s she like?”

“She’s very bossy.” You say, looking elsewhere as the conversation continues. “But I know it’s because she wants what’s best for me.”

“Does she treat you well?”

“Oh course she does!” You snap. “In her own way, she’s very caring. What are you trying to get at?”

“Just prying.” Alucard sighs as he looks into the forest.

You cross your arms and look the other way, stating something very matter-of-factly in a tone that, if heard by the right person, sounds like you’re not so sure yourself. “She cares. So— you can just keep quiet.”

The forest was quite boring to stare at. It almost felt as though you were staring into some endless void as the silent moment went by. Tree here, tree there.

[rubik-ashala]

Let Alucard have nice things!

This doubles as both a headcanon description and a rant so here goes:

I just got done watching the 3rd season of Castlevania and I am not happy. I have two things two say about it. This contains spoilers for the series so you have been warned.

First complaint and observation:

Did anybody get the feeling that the show was supposed to end after the second season but didn't? That everything was wrapped up nicely, Dracula was dead, the big world destruction war was halted, we were shown what the trio would be doing after everything etc. Like it was meant to end there but then a conversation like this happened:

Castlevania team: And that’s a wrap everybody! The good guys took down Dracula in an epic fight, the world was saved, Job Done! Time to move on to new things.

Shareholders, producers, etc: Uhh, actually we already signed you up for a 3rd season. So you might want to get on that.

Castlevania Team: What! But we weren't prepared for a third season! The whole plot is wrapped up! What are we supposed to do?

Shareholders, producers, etc: Don’t know but you better get to figuring it out.

Castlevania: I guess we will just game of thrones it terribly then and hope we make it through.

Because that is what it felt like happened. There seemed to be no overarching plot, just four separate ones and only two of them is even remotely together. They take two side characters Issac and Hector and give them there own plotlines. Issac gets the Denarius treatment for no real reason other than to seemingly follow in Dracula’s footsteps and Hector gets dragged to Camilla’s realm because, she needs a forge master to grow an army so she can take over what has been fractured. They split up the trio, suddenly giving Serphia and Trevor a romantic relationship with little to nothing building up to it and throw them in a quest to keep Dracula from coming back after some crazy monks due some occult doctor who style shenanigans to open a portal to other worlds. And while that is going on, Alucard aka Adrian Tepes gets left alone guarding his fathers now broken castle and the Belmont’s treasure trove for months after everything has happened.

Which flows into my Second point:

Alucard got done dirty in the third season!

We watch as Alucard deals with the mental repercussions of what he did, alone. We watch as he deals with the loneliness of being out in the middle of nowhere alone for months with none to talk too. And we see the toll it is taking on him albeit comedically. 

Then the siblings come in. 

They come to him for help and education on fighting vampires back in their homeland, something that Alucard is more than happy to help with. One, because he has company again and Two, passing on the knowledge to the new generation seemed fitting.

During the time they stay he grows fond of them and they him. You see them training and horsing around, eating meals together and other wholesome shenanigans.

You get to see a conversation where the sibling talk about how they notice how lonely he has been and how they believe he stays out here to punish himself and maybe they should do something for him before they move on. And it’s all like “aww that is so sweet!”

Then you see Alucard trying to sleep and failing miserably in his bed. Even so far as wondering if he should get a coffin to sleep in. Then you see the siblings show up in the door way and begin walking towards him in the bed saying , in a very sultry voice, how alone he must have been, how he should deserve a reward, ectera. Followed by them getting all hot and steamy with him.

 The scene makes a point to show how much Alucard is enjoying this attention, and how happy it is making him. Your watching it and it’s like “Maybe it's gonna be one of those fond memories he will be able to look back on after their gone.” or “Maybe they will become some Badass monster hunting thruple and Alucard wont be alone anymore.”

Nope! Not today in my Grim Dark Gothic Fantasy World!

They instead, after giving Alucard the night of his life, put these metal cuffs on him that shoot out a bunch of ropes that tie him in classic Jesus on a cross position and then proceed to try and kill him. 

Why?

Because the were under the belief he was lying and holding things back from them, and in particular about the castle not being able to move. And they were tired of being lied to.

Luckily for Alucard they didn't realize his sword could move on its own and they weren’t alive for much longer because of it but...Really?

Why? Why do this to him?

He lost his mother to a witch hunt, he had to kill his own father and now this? All in little over a year? What the Hell man!?

Let the Dhampire have nice things! He deserves better than this!

So, I made a headcannon to soothe me angry brain.

I took a fantasy race of mine that was inspired by the Crusnics of Trinity Blood and added them in to Castlevania. In Particular one specific one.

Name: Floki 

Age: Around Adrian’s age give or take a few months.

Hair: Black

Eyes: Mismatched blue/green

Height: About the same as Adrien’s perhaps a little taller.

Personality: Mischevious, HArdworking, Loves deeply, Fiercly but wisely protective, loves to work with his hands, loves to learn more about the world and how it works. Deeply fond of Adrian even though he hasn’t seen him in a few years. Also, a smidge psychotic, but just a smidge.

Floki is part of a race of beings referred to as “The Old Ones”. They are a race similar in habit to the Vampire but they feed off vampires, night creatures and other supernatural beings over humans. They are immensely powerful, even at young ages and have been rumored to be the source of some of the gods of Ancient Mythology. 

Floki’s father (Yet named)  was Dracula’s mentor and where he got much of his scientific knowledge from in his early years. They became friends during his teaching and even after parting ways, would still occasionally see each other every few half centuries or so to trade information and chat.

During this time, Floki’s father was desperately trying to have children of his own and failing. At one point believing that he was sterile and unable to father children. Something Dracula knew as well and so hid Lisa’s pregnancy from him for fear of making his sadness worse.

However, a few months later, It was revealed that his current love was with child and Floki was born accompanied by much drunken Norse revelry.

When the two men met again a few years later, Floki was brought with his father to show to Dracula that he finally had a child. A moment where Dracula also revealed his son and Where Floki met Adrian.

Floki showed Adrian what it was like to play and horse around. They would play pretend out in the woods, get dirty, skin thier knees, the works. And where one was, you would find the other close by.

The visits between the two powerful men became more frequent due to the boys wish to see each other, not that the parents minded all that much.

Over time Floki’s affection for Adrian would change and deepen. His longing to stay by his friends side would get stronger and one fateful afternoon when Adrian got hurt, FLoki would realize how he had fallen in love with him.

Adrian would never know this however, due to Floki’s unstable powers at the time, his sub par control of his hunger and the fear of hurting him.

As they got older, and partly to the above, their visits to see each other would lessen and by the time they were full grown, had stopped entirely. 

That is until Floki Heard of Lisa’s death at the hands of the church.

Even with his incredible power to teleport far distances it took him several months to reach Wallachia. He didn’t seek out Adrian immediately though, too curious to see the truth of what happened.

Each of “The Old Ones” Has a unique skill that is developed and evolved over time, according to personality, interest, skill and homeland. Due to Floki’s curiosity, his love for history and his desire to see how it all works together, he developed what he liked to call, memory recall.

His skill allowed him to see memories of the past through people, objects or locations where something that evoked strong emotional or magical reactions in the area happened. And if there was no such thing, if the event was more recent, if he had access to people that were there and stood on the location, he could see and feel the event as if he lived it.

Lisa’s death held him up in an inn for several days trying to chase the feeling of flames on  his skin. Dracula’s anger and grief laid him up for even longer as he cried himself sick. 

Gregit was better though, seeing the man who did the deed getting called out by a demon and then eaten gave him a bit of satisfaction.

Briela was fascinating though. He had to meet whomever managed to capture the ever moving castle.

By the Time Floki would arrive at the now defunk castle and underground hold, the siblings bodies are already outside on pikes.

This doesn't scare him away of course, and to find out why they were there he uses his memory recall. Where he sees through there eyes what they did to Adrian, albeit a little fuzzy. But is able to hear what the twins were thinking in that moment and see, just for a short time, Adrian tied to the bed afraid and hurt.

This causes him to snap his fingers and cause the corpses to burst into flames.

An action that draws Adrian’s attention causing a little bit of a fight before they recognize each other.

Over the next while Adrian allows Floki to stay and fix the castle as well as the Belmont estate and work towards getting the transportation engine online again. Eventually. 

Overtime, all of Floki’s feelings come back with a vengeance and he gives as much attention and TLC to Adrian as he allows. Eventually getting Adrian to allow him close enough to see though his memory what the siblings had done to him

A scene that will either start a few revelations with both Adrian and FLoki or lead to a very steamy situation. Possibly both.

But it all ends in Adrian getting all the Love and TLC that man deserves after the hell he was put through.

I just hope they aren’t trying to set him up to become an antagonist later... 

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter VII]

Word count:  6,292

Warnings: vulgar language 

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

A/N:  I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you do too while reading it. Side note 1: I reference a few movies here and there. I would advise you skipping one or two paragraphs to avoid spoilers if you still mean to watch it. But, I'm assuming everyone reading this has seen it already. Site note 2: Anne Rice will find a way to sue me if this somehow finds its way to her (it won't, who do I think I am) Side note 3: if you haven't yet, watch every movie and read every book mentioned here. They're all great.

____________________________________________________________

I had a huge grin on my face as I left the courtroom. My client grabbed my arm and shook it, chuckling. 

“You won!” she squealed. 

“ We won,” I corrected. I stopped walking and faced Mirriam. Her make-up was smudged beneath her watery eyes and her lips were quivering. “I’m happy for you.”

She pulled me into a hug, knocking the breath out of me. Both my hands were occupied, carrying my briefcase and purse so, I had no choice but to stand there, unable to hug her back. Mirriam sobbed, her arms tightening about my neck ever so slightly as she thanked me. Over her shoulder, I saw Judge Llewellyn leave the courtroom, still dressed in his robes. He looked at us, the perpetual crease between his eyebrow softening. Mirriam exclaimed and released me abruptly. The squeals of happy children echoed down the hall and I turned to see Mirriam make a run for the two kids sprinting towards her. 

“Congratulations, Miss L/N,” said Llewellyn. I turned my head to see him standing at my side. “You did well.”

“Can you repeat that, please? I didn’t quite catch it,” I said, grinning from ear to ear. 

His lips tugged up as he glanced away. When he looked at me again his face was serious.

“Don’t try your luck,” he extended a hand toward me. “I’m looking forward to seeing you at practice in my court again.”

Any moment now my cheeks would tear from smiling so much. I let go of my purse, not caring that it almost tipped over, and shook his hand. Although his fingers were long and bony, his handshake was firm.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He nodded and made his way to the opposite direction, presumably towards the judges’ chambers. I watched him go, his robes swaying after him and then turned the other way, taking in Mirriam on her knees, laughing at whatever her children had said. Yeah, I did well. As I picked up my purse, I felt it vibrating. I stuck a hand inside it, searching for my phone as I made my way out of the Royal Courts of Justice.

“Hi, Zoe.”

“Any news?” She asked on the other end. 

“None.”

“It’s been over a week since he took you out. Shouldn’t he have called you?”

“Maybe he’s lost interest,” I countered, frowning at the twinge on my chest. 

Out in the open, I lowered my head to protect myself against the drizzle as I walked.

“That’s absurd. He wouldn’t go to all the trouble of bribing someone--”

“I still regret telling you that.”

“Nevermind who he is, that was impressive.”

An outsider could hear our conversation and think we were complaining about some guy giving me the cold shoulder, not plotting against a five centuries old vampire.

“Zoe, I don’t care why he hasn’t called as long as he leaves me alone. Maybe he met someone else,” as I talked, I managed to make eye contact with a cabbie inside a passing taxi and nodded. “I saw you two days ago. I’ll call if anything changes. When do you want to meet again?”

“Let’s make it Sunday. It’ll be the fourth set of samples and I want to keep the every 2 days pattern we’ve got going on until your bite fully heals.”

The taxi stopped next to me and I juggled all my stuff in order to open the door. I glared at the cabbie, hoping that he would be moved by my anger and help me open the door. I could be Queen Elizabeth and he wouldn’t care. 

“Fine,” I said as I managed to open the car door and get inside. “61 Marney Road,” I told the cabbie and he accelerated. “St Thomas Hospital again?” I asked Zoe.

“Yes. 11am. Call me if Dracula--”

“I know, I know. Bye.” I ended the call before she could keep talking. 

Once I settled my belongings next to me and made myself comfortable, I leaned my head on the window, watching as London’s lights started coming to life in the nearing dusk. Getting complimented by Judge Llewellyn deserved to be celebrated. A good film accompanied by popcorn and lots of chocolate appealed to my body overridden by PMS. Add an hour in a hot bath and then I would have the perfect Friday night. How would Count Dracula spend his Friday night? 

I lowered my shirt’s high collar and touched the scar on my neck. It was nothing more than small scabs now that the bruises were gone but I still wore turtlenecks to conceal the strangulation marks. I hadn’t felt the tingling sensation on it ever since my date with the Count and I wondered if it would react at all to him now that it was almost healed. 

“Miss, you alright?”

I removed my hand from my neck like I had been burned. 

“What?” 

“Are you feeling alright? It sounded like you were out of breath,” he spoke the same way someone would if they were addressing an elderly person.

My entire face went hot and I thanked him silently for not being one those cabbies that always had the rear view mirror turned to the back seats in order to watch the passengers. 

“I have, uh, asthma,” I shut my eyes as I spoke, overcome by embarrassment. “But I’m fine now.”

Had I gone mental? Rubbing my scar to test if it was still reactive to touch in the back of a taxi was just plain stupid, especially considering that I’d gotten so utterly lost in pleasure that I had been panting loud enough for the cabbie to hear me. 

“Tragic, innit?” 

That my bond to Count Dracula paired with PMS had made me become a dog in heat? Yes.

“Sorry, what?”

The cabbie leaned forward and a second later the whispering voices coming from the car speakers raised to an understandable volume. 

“ Surrey police has no leads so far ,” was all I heard from the narrator before a song started playing.

“What happened?”

“Two students were found dead this morning in Surrey University. Bright youngins, can you imagine what they could--”

I straightened on my seat.

“Murders?”

“Makes no sense, how brutal. Police says it appears they were having a movie night--”

“How were they killed?” 

The cabbie took hold of the rear view mirror and angled it at me. I smiled dryly at his frown.

“Professional curiosity,” I told him. “I’m a defense lawyer.”

That answer did nothing to soothe the crease on his large forehead.

“Police isn’t sure yet. But I heard from a pal from Surrey,” he lowered his voice, like he was confiding in me, “that the person that found ‘em threw up and so did a coppa. Looked like a scene straight from The Shining, I bet. Nasty stuff.”

I nodded, relaxing against the window again. Taking he referenced The Shining, that probably meant that there was a lot blood. Dracula wouldn’t waste a drop, I supposed. Odd horrific murders came about once in a while, sadly, and all of them committed by humans. Besides, would he really go all the way to Surrey just to murder a bunch of uni students? London was stacked with several student halls for him to pick from without the trouble of traveling across counties.

“First what happened at that company and then this… This is a bad, bad week. My gran used to say that everything comes in threes. I assure ya, miss, there’s more-”

“Which company? What are you talking about?”

“Ya haven’t heard?” he questioned, glancing at me through the mirror. “Why, miss. Two nights ago the, whaddyacallit, the big corporate cunts in charge of a company- oh, excuse my mouth, miss-”

“The board of directors?”

“Yeah, those blokes. Murdered, the whole lot of ‘em, inside a meeting room!” he started whispering again. 

“Was this here in London?”

“Central London,” he nodded.  “Can’t remember the name of the company, now-”

“Like the murders in Surrey? Bloody?”

“Nah, don’t think there’s been news about that. Cameras were dead, caught nothing of it. They were found by security at almost midnight after a wife of one of ‘em called looking for her husband.”

“Cause of death?” I asked and he looked at me. “Just answer the question.”

“Stab wounds to the neck, all of ‘em. Apparently some of them put up a fight because there were broken arms and fingers. Scotland Yard said that it’s prolly more than one murderer, other than that they’ve been quiet about it… They’re investigating it,” he made air quotes, “that’s code for we don’t know shite.”

He continued ranting for the rest of the trip but I wasn’t listening anymore. I doubted that Netflix would be able to salvage my mood after that conversation.

Once I paid the cabbie, I bid him a nice weekend and jumped out of the taxi. Compared to how he had barely cared about my struggle to get in the taxi, he was nice enough to wait until I got my door opened. Now that the night had come, the automatic light above my front door had turned on and I could only make out the shape of his hand waving at me from inside the car. I waved back as a thanks before going inside. 

I went straight upstairs after I locked the door. With how wired I was, I forgot all about my intentions of taking a bath and took a shower instead. Considering I was humming a tune to myself after thirty minutes under a steady stream of hot water, I was making a quick recovery. I was still singing when I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel about my body. I opened the door, tendrils of steam spilling from my bathroom into my bedroom.

“Ohmygod!”

Count Dracula grinned at me, lying on the middle of my bed with both arms folded beneath his head. I pressed the towel to myself, desperately seeking more cover. 

“I was starting to wonder if you would ever come out of there.”

“I wish I hadn’t!” I exclaimed. “I locked my door! How the hell did you get in?!”

“Window." He pointed one long finger at it.

Deadbolts. I’d have to get deadbolts on every single window in my house.

“Couldn’t you have texted in advance?!”

“I did. You didn’t reply.”

I stared at him, waiting for something else to come out of his mouth. Instead, his gaze slid down my body, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he inhaled sharply. I knew exactly why he was whiffing the air. Thank God my body was flushed from the hot shower, otherwise I would have gone bright red in anger.

“Ugh, leave!” I said, projecting my voice like I was in court. 

I stretched an arm out, pointing at the window. The sudden movement almost caused the towel to open and I immediately took hold of it again with a little squeak. Count Dracula was up at once, circling the bed towards me. I gulped. His gaze pulled me in and for a moment my anger sizzled down.

“I’ve missed you,” he said and a shiver went down my spine.

I stepped back into the bathroom to put some distance between us.

“Too bad, go away.”

A smirk tugged the corner of his lips. 

“You’ve missed me, too.”

“Absolutely did not.”

“Your heartbeat says otherwise.”

“It’s called anger.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“‘I’ll go wait downstairs,” he said before turning away from me and slipping out of my bedroom. 

My knees almost gave out when he left and I rushed to sit on the edge of the bed. I held my head as I tried to concentrate and take deep breaths. Had he stayed any longer I wouldn’t put it past me to lock myself in the bathroom and remain there until morning. Not only I had to deal with him, I also could feel cramps coming. I wanted nothing more to curl up in bed with a heat compress and chocolate. Summoning my courage, I got up and went to get dressed. 

As I went down the stairs, Dracula peeked his head out from the living room.

“You’re going out in your nightgown?”

I stopped for a second, frowning and then continued down.

“I’m not going out. I’m tired and uncomfortable and I’m staying home,” I forced a smile, batting my eyelashes just to annoy him. I rounded the staircase, giving my back to him and heading for the kitchen. “I do hope you haven’t wasted your money bribing someone else to grant us entrance to another museum.”

I swiped at the switch and soft lights came on over the kitchen island and at the corners of the room. 

“I haven’t. There’s no problem in postponing tonight’s date.”

I turned around to see him standing on the other side of the island, staring at me.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No.” He smiled. “Like I said, I’ve missed you.”

I leaned down and opened the cabinet under the sink. I pushed a set of pans to the side, looking for my heat pad.

“Been busy for this past week?” I asked, my voice echoing inside the cabinet. 

“Unfortunately.”

I found the heat pad and stood up, closing the cabinet door after me as I put it inside the microwave and set 5 minutes. I turned to face him, propping my hips on the kitchen counter. I pulled on my courtroom face. If Count Dracula squinting at me meant that he saw me do it, then I needed to work more on my tells. 

“Reading Jules Verne or killing a board of directors?”

One of his eyes twitched before he smiled.

“Both. Although I haven’t finished the book yet.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Not finish the book?”

“Dracula-”

“I was bored." He waved his hands on the air, dismissing my hard stare. “Please, I did the world a service! Yes, I went after them on a whim but as soon as I drank from one of them… I killed them on principle.”

“Principle? You’ve got that?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” He put his hands on top of the island and leaned forward, the light above his head creating shadows on his face. “The first one I bit was a child abuser. It was in his blood so, forgive me if killing him offends you. I broke his neck because I didn’t have a stomach for him. The rest of them… were palate cleansers. Although it didn’t do much good. Incredible how many of them had raped women and beat their wives.”

We stared at each other, frozen in place.

All my anger from before vanished and I had to struggle to keep my courtroom face on. In another world, one where there was no law binding me, I would have done the same. Was this the good in him I had been searching, however twisted it was?

The microwave chimed, prompting me to blink and break eye contact.

“I hope you hid at least some of the evidence,” I said, pushing back from the kitchen counter. “I’m not sure how representing a vampire in court for murder would look on my resumé.”

“No need to worry.” He grinned.

I grabbed the heat pad from the microwave, juggling it between my hands to avoid getting burnt until I dropped it to the counter. 

“What about the students in Surrey?”

“Surrey? No, I haven’t been there.” 

I nodded, somewhat relieved. I turned my back on Dracula to conceal my face as I broke the façade. He wasn’t responsible for the murders on Surrey as I suspected but after killing those ‘corporate cunts’, as the cabbie had put so appropriately, he probably went somewhere else to find another palate cleanser. Somebody else was dead because of him but for the life of me I couldn’t find something inside me to care enough. He had indeed done the world a service. 

I rounded the island, past the Count so I could reach the pantry. From there I took popcorn and a bar of chocolate I had hidden, from myself, behind a set of spices. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I moved and I fought the urge to steal a glance of his face to try figure out what was on his mind. 

“I’m surprised you made an appearance,” I said in the unnerving silence. 

“Are you, really?”

“Yes.” Hugging the popcorn and chocolate to my chest, I moved past him, congratulating myself for not looking at him. “No, actually. I was fairly positive you would come looking for me again, much to my dismay.” I chuckled. “One would think what happened at the museum would encourage you.”

My back burnt with the weight of his gaze. I started tearing the popcorn package frantically, making as much noise as possible to distract me. It was almost working but after I put the popcorn inside the microwave and closed it, I saw his reflection on the microwave mirrored door, moving towards me. 

“It’s not very nice to sneak up on people,” I said, holding my ground.

He met my eyes through the reflection. 

“I’m not nice.”

He had a reflection. I blinked, turning at once to face him. He was directly behind me, less than an arm’s length.

“You can be.”

“Do you want me to be nice?”

“No. It makes it harder to hate you.”

He smiled. 

“I believed that for a second, really did. Especially when I found out that you had been asking our dear friend Renfield about me.”

I gulped.

“He wasn’t very forthcoming, if that makes you feel better,” I said and he chuckled but when his face grew serious again, I wondered if he forced that laugh. “Is that why you disappeared? Because Renfield gossiped about me to you?”

“Amongst other things,” he acquiesced, stepping back and supporting his body on the island much like I had done on the counter. 

By his evasive answer, there was more to it but if he didn’t want to tell me it was fine. He had his secrets and I had mine.

“What do you know, boys really do gossip as much ladies do.”

He gave me a lopsided smile, one I judged was genuine, unlike his chuckle before. The microwave beeped again and I inhaled the delicious scent of done popcorn. I retrieved the popcorn with the tips of my fingers. I placed it briefly on the counter and then offered the heating pad to Count Dracula.

“Take this for me, will you?” I said and he did. I grabbed a glass of juice for me and then the popcorn and chocolate. “Come on. We’re watching a film.”

Count Dracula followed me into the living room. As I settled myself on the sofa, he gave me the heat pad and then occupied himself with analysing my library. Library was a kind word. It would take up the entire wall behind the telly if the fireplace had not been there. I wouldn’t say it was an impressive collection to a connoisseur but it was my collection and I had love for every single book in it, even the ones I didn’t like very much. Count Dracula had his hands laced behind his back and his head tilted as he admired it. I stopped myself from turning the telly on when I heard him whispering the titles to himself.

“Oh, would you look at that ?” He stepped forward and reached for the second to last row of books closest to the ceiling. I usually had to climb on the armchair to reach that far up but all he did was extend his arm up and pluck a book from up there. He turned around, showing me the gold cover with white and red lettering between his hands. “A vampire book?”

Of course he would find that. At least I should be thankful he didn’t find Story of O or Venus in Furs. If he had and then decided to flip through the pages, I would be doomed.

“Be very careful with that,” I warned. “It’s first edition and it was a gift. It’s sort of a classic.”

“Really?” he grinned, tipping his head up to the row from where he retrieved it from. “Are all of those classics?”

“Anne Rice might say so but the rest of the world wouldn’t,” I scoffed. He looked at me. “She thinks very highly of herself.”

“We would probably get along wonderfully,” he smirked. “Perhaps I should pay her a visit to give her real inspiration.”

“She’s an old woman now and would die of excitement if you actually visited her,” I laughed. “There’s a film for this one,” I pointed at the book in his hands. There was gleam in his dark eyes. “Do you want to watch it?”

“You’ve seen it already,” he said as he placed the book on the shelf. 

“Yes but I can’t deny myself the irony of watching a vampire film with a real vampire,” I said, grabbing the remote control and turning on the TV. “We’ll watch this one and then you can choose the next one.”

I gazed up at him, waiting for an answer. He traced his tongue inside his lower lip, giving my body all sorts of ideas my brain was not agreeable with. My hand tightened around the remote. Count Dracula took off his blazer and threw it on the armchair beneath the window. I almost asked him if all his shirts were missing buttons because the top ones were undone like the last time I’d seen him but then he started undoing his belt. Popcorn spilled on my lap.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I exclaimed.

“Getting comfortable,” he replied with a frown, like I was ridiculous for asking. He rolled the belt around his fingers and then placed it neatly on top of the fireplace. “Like you are,” he gestured at me.

I was sunken back on the sofa between pillows and cushions, with my feet on the coffee table and popcorn all over my nightie. Technically speaking, I was indeed comfortable, especially because of the heating pad on my lower abdomen relieving menstrual cramps. I was less comfortable with Dracula undressing in front of me while my body was working against me in every way possible.

“Fine,” I said between gritted teeth. My eyes widened as he started moving towards me. “W-wait, no, no, no, you’re sitting over there.”

His smirk widened into a full grin as he sat by my side, letting out an exaggerated breath, he kicked off his shoes and stretched himself in the same position as me. 

“What happened to personal space?”

“I thought we’d gone past that already,” he raised his thick eyebrows. 

I clenched my jaw. His gaze fell on my neck. All he would need to do was lean to sink his teeth in me, if he wanted. His lips parted and I was reminded of their softness when he had kissed me.

“Stop it,” I all but whispered. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, eyes fixated on my neck.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.” I started picking off popcorn from my lap, hoping that would show him that he wasn’t affecting me. “Let’s just watch the film.”

I endured his stare as I clicked on the remote to bring up Netflix and started searching the catalogue for Interview with the Vampire. He decided to focus on the telly once Louis started talking to Daniel. As the film went on, he laughed with Lestat and cursed at Louis constantly for his sentiment. More than once, Count Dracula was literally at the edge of his seat. He nodded approvingly at Claudia at times and at Lestat’s flare for the dramatics, making his critiques here and there about how Anne Rice had gotten it right or wrong.

“That’s Haydn,” Dracula said, eyes glued to the screen as a corpse-like Lestat played the piano and Louis and Claudia watched in horror.

“Good ear,” I commented. “Not that I’m an expert but it took me a few google searches to find out where this piece was from.”

“Good appetite,” he countered without looking at me, raising his forefinger.

I paused the film and he turned to me with an indignant look on his face.

“You ate Haydn?”

He grimaced.

“Ate is a poor term.”

“You did!” I accused, mouth falling open. “Who else?”

“I didn’t kill Haydn, that would be outrageous. I would have deprived the world of Mozart and Beethoven. I just stole a few sips to understand his genius. Chopin, however, I did kill. He was a prick, and so was Mozart. Bach, too, was unbearable but I didn’t get the chance to off him,” he shrugged. “Paganini was a riot, though. I tried turning him but he was committed already to a long time friend, you could say.”

I stared at him for a long moment. I didn’t know where to start but him saying that about Paganini, very subtly, confirmed people’s suspicion at the time that the man had made a pact with the Devil to have been that good. Finding myself unable to form another coherent thought faced with that, I simply pressed play again.

The film was doing a fantastic job of keeping the Count’s attention and I started relaxing because I didn’t have to be on guard, even if he was laying by my side. That is, until we reached the scene on a theatre where Armand drinks from a woman on stage in front of unsuspecting humans. My heart had begun hammering inside my chest as soon as Louis and Claudia stepped inside the theatre because I knew what was coming. 

Though I kept my eyes on the screen, I was suddenly hyper aware of how close I was to Count Dracula. An entire side of my body touched his, down to where my leg ended. Had I grown that comfortable and not noticed it? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Count Dracula swiveling his head to stare at me. 

“You’re missing the film,” I told him, jamming popcorn in my mouth to keep myself busy.

“Your pulse is more interesting right now,” his words tickled my shoulder. 

I snuck a glance at him. His eyes were still bottomless pools of black. The heat in his eyes was just as worrying if his eyes had been red.

“Don’t,” I warned.

The human girl was on stage now, screaming and begging for mercy. Soft, cold lips touched my shoulder and I swallowed dryly. Another kiss marked his path up.  I forgot how to move, caught in the rapture of his touch. I could have at least this. Nevermind that I was being touched by the man who meant to steal my life. My chest heaved as his kisses became sloppier, less sweet. My entire body shuddered in anticipation as a kiss landed on the curve of my neck. 

“I--”

A hand delved into my hair with a demanding tug and I shut up. The popcorn bag crumpled between my hands. Armand was on stage with the woman, hugging her and providing comfort before her death.

“Say it,” his lips brushed my ear.

“I won’t.”

His lips brushed my scar and I released a shaky breath. His mouth descended on my neck and a cry tore out of me upon feeling him sucking on my skin. Another hand laid on my chest, creeping slowly towards the shoulder strap of my nightie. I closed my eyes, letting myself be consumed by pleasure and forgetting every reason why we shouldn’t do this.

“Be mine,” his words were muffled as he continued his assault on my neck.

Sharp teeth grazed my skin. 

This couldn’t happen, not if I wanted to live. The minute he bit me he would know about my plan. I had to summon every ounce of control on my body to resist the sensuous ripple of pleasure coursing my body. I dodged his hands and shot up to my feet. Dracula caught himself on his elbow before he fell between the cushions. His eyes were still every bit as dark as before but his mass of hair was tousled, as mine probably was.

“I think--” I took a breath. “I think you should leave.”

He sat up and I noticed that another button on his shirt had come undone, revealing more of his chest than I had seen before. I didn’t dare look any lower. I almost cried in frustration. My body demanded him despite the fact that giving myself to him meant danger.

“I want to finish watching the film,” he said, gazing up at me as he buttoned his shirt again.

“I’m sure you’ve got Netflix at your place.”

“I do but I don’t have the pleasure of your company there.”

“Dracula--”

“I’ll behave if you do,” he put his legs on the coffee table again but I didn’t fall for it. No way I was looking below his waistline. “ Promise .”

Would I make it if I ran upstairs to my room? But what use would it be if he could simply climb through my window? I wasn’t ten years old anymore to run away from my fears, hoping they would disappear if I didn’t acknowledge them. Then again, Dracula wasn’t the monster under my bed. He was more likely to be the one on top of it. Jesus, focus! Mind over matter, come on. Up until that point he was being good company. If he was toying with my self control or not, I wasn’t sure. Besides, I couldn’t push the man away any time he made me nervous. I needed to lead him on until Zoe and I found a breach.

“I’ll hold you to that promise. You stay there,” I pointed a finger at him. “I’ll sit over there.”

Grabbing the remote and the bar of chocolate, I tiptoed my way between the remains of my popcorn and curled myself up on the armchair. I started unpacking the chocolate, doing my best to keep my eyes on the telly. Louis and Claudia were now below the theatre, in Armand’s chambers.

Feeling the Count’s gaze on me, I said, “Are you watching the bloody film or not? Because I think I would rather watch something else now.”

After I started chomping at the chocolate bar like there was no tomorrow, Dracula paid attention to the telly. I managed to breathe normally again once he seemed to be engrossed by the film and made conversation about what was going on, like we had been doing before. He celebrated Louis’ revenge by clapping at him and I laughed at the joy on his face as Lestat popped up from the backseat of Daniel’s car and bit him. I mouthed the words to Sympathy for the Devil as the credits rolled and Dracula stayed with his eyes glued to the screen.

“I must talk to this Anne Rice woman,” he muttered.

I chuckled.

“Leave her alone. She hasn’t completed the series yet and I need to know how much dumber Lestat can get in the next book.”

“He’s not dumb,” Dracula said, frowning at me.

I chuckled again. God, he’d grown attached to him.

“You haven’t read the books yet. You might loathe him as much as you did Louis if you read them.”

He groaned.

“Let’s watch another one.”

“Another vampire film?”

“Yes.”

“Narcissist,” I accused and he smiled. 

After searching through the Netflix catalogue, I found a vampire film that didn’t seem so ridiculous called Byzantium. It seemed like a better alternative than Lost Boys or Fright Night. I could just imagine his outrage at Twilight so I spared him of that, too. Twenty minutes later, however, Dracula was rolling his eyes at the TV and asking for the remote. He chose Silence of the Lambs and I thanked the heavens for it. I wouldn’t be able to sit through another sexy movie with him.

“He’s a great actor,” I commented as Dr Lecter and Clarice talked through the glass prison. 

“How many times have you watched it? You quoted that to me before, word for word of what he just said.”

I shrugged. 

“An unhealthy amount of times,” I admitted. He looked at me. “It won four Oscars, c’mon. It’s fantastic.”

I refused to tell him the reason I loved it so much was because of Hannibal Lecter. The Oscars excuse was better. We didn’t say much after that, that’s how fascinated Dracula was. Afterwards, he chose Crimson Peak, at last, one I hadn’t seen. Resting my head on the armchair and using Dracula’s blazer as a blanket, I closed my eyes for a brief moment when Edith met Thomas. 

Sleep’s warm embrace had me floating and I sighed happily. Something hard and cold pressed at my cheek, making my eyes flutter open. Dracula’s face hovered above mine. I wasn’t floating, if his arms around me and his hard chest on my cheek meant anything. My heart hurt like someone had squeezed it.

“I’m just putting you to bed,” he said in a low voice, sparing me a glance.

I was too tired to argue with him and simply rested my head on his chest again.

“You’re cold,” I complained, holding onto his blazer.

“I’m sorry.” 

The harsh lights of the telly made me squint at it with drowsy eyes. Rachel Weisz was on the screen now and I frowned, trying to remember if she appeared in Crimson Peak. Had he started another movie?

“Did the sleep- huh.” I furrowed my brows and tried again, “did I the movie- no,” I sighed.

Hearing his laugh inside his chest made me smile sleepily. 

“You slept little more than 2 hours,” he replied, maneuvering me out of the living room.

“You understood,” a yawn, “what I said,” I giggled and patted his chest. “Well done.”

He flashed me an amused smile before looking ahead again. I wrapped my arms around him when he started going up the stairs, afraid that I would fall. I tried listening to his heartbeat - something I enjoyed doing to people whenever I had chance - but there was no sound coming from his chest. Oddly, that was just as comforting as not hearing soft thump-thumps. But maybe that was just my sleep-addled brain.

“Tell me what happens in Croms- ah, whatever, in the film.” I frowned, mad at how stupid I sounded when I was sleepy. 

He laughed again.

“A lot.”

I rolled my eyes before surrendering to my heavy eyelids and closing them. 

“Be nice, tell me,” I mumbled.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be nice.”

“Right now, I do.”

He started telling me but the rumble of his voice coming from inside his chest, so close to my ear, made me drift back to sleep again. I woke up when he was laying me down on my bed. The bedside lamp made me squint. He set me in the very middle of the bed and perched next to me. I rolled on my side to face him and fluffed the pillow below my head, hiding my face from the light.

“So Edith and Thomas got married, huh?” I asked.

“You got nothing of what I just told you.”

“Not a word." I shook my head lightly.

He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen on my face and his fingers hovered over me for a moment before caressing my temple.

“You were married,” I blurted. He dropped his hand and frowned. “When you were human. Weren’t you?”

“What does it matter?” He went to get up but I grabbed his wrist.

He glared at my hand.

“It was just a question,” I told him. “Don’t be mad. We bicker all the time, already.” I raised my eyebrows at him. His gaze fell on mine, indecipherable. “We don’t have to talk about her. Forget I said it.”

For a second I thought he would storm off. Dracula looked out the window, staring into the night. I waited for him to say something, waited until sleep started creeping again. My fingers slid down his wrist, resting on the back of his hand. 

“She was nothing like you.”

My eyes fluttered open. He was still staring into the dark. I had to choose my words carefully if I wanted him to keep talking. 

“How was she like?”

“Fragile and fearful of… everything. Deeply religious and foolish, at times. She smiled whenever she looked at me, even when I had done horrible things. In her mind, all that I did was in the name of God. There was this one time when I came from battle and I had blood on my face and armour-" he stopped, shoulders sloping and then stiffening "-she kissed me.”

“She wasn’t that fragile, then.”

He scoffed.

“I suppose not,” he conceded.

“Did you love her?”

“More than I thought I was capable.”

I had a feeling I knew the answer to my next question but asked it anyway.

“What happened to her?”

Finally, he turned his head to look at me. For the first time I saw a semblance of real emotion in his eyes and it broke my heart.

“I happened to her.”

I furrowed my eyebrows and took a breath to ask more but he stood up, his hand grazing mine briefly. I watched as he closed the curtains and then picked up the duvet at the bottom of my bed, unfurling it on top of me. I retrieved his blazer from beneath the covers and handed it to him. When he met my eyes again, his expression was devoid of all emotion. His hand reached behind me and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging us into darkness. I couldn’t make out his face anymore.

“Thank you for keeping your promise,” I whispered but I wasn’t sure if he was still in the room to hear me..

.

Taglist: @festering-queen @feralstare @rheabalaur @girlonfireice @dreamer2381 @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @thorin-smokin-shield​ @deborahlazaroff​ @apocalypsenowish​ @a-dorky-book-keeper​ if I forgot to tag anyone, please let me know

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [14]

Masterlist

A/N: I just wanted to say another quick thank you to everyone reading along. You guys have honeslty made my week so mych easier and to say that I’ve been waking up early (something my lazy ass never does) just to read all of your comments because I get that excited is just crazy. I love you guys so very much, enjoy the chapter!

~^*^~

You froze up. Your mother was looking right at you, asking once more quietly if you wanted a little more milk in your tea. You couldn’t really hear her properly. There was a rush of blood to your ears and your head began to swirl. The phone that you had been holding up to your ear clattered to the ground. Never in your life had such a heavy guilt consumed you and never had such a strong feeling overcome you so quickly.

The words just spoke to you echoed in your ears.

‘She’s gone...’ his voice had been a broken whisper. It was hoarse and accusingly wrapping around your head.

You had done this. This was your doing.

Lucy Westenra’s death was on you.

“[First]? Are you alright?” Your mother bent before you, plucking up the phone. She inspected it. Luckily, no harm. She noticed that the phone call was still on and placed the phone to her ear, “good morning, Jack, she’ll have to call you back.” She explained softly and hung up.

Your mouth opened and shut once more. Speechless. Utterly speechless.

And without thinking about anything else, you turned and ran. You ran as hard as your feet would carry you, not worrying about your unbrushed hair, or your bare face with tears streaming. Your mother called your name but you flew out of the house without another care. All you cared about was where you needed to go, and that meant sprinting as fast and as much as your body would physically allow.

You forced your way past people, earning some cusses and angry stares. You didn’t care. When you burst through the doors of the place of solace, you finally slowed down, doubling over and resting your hands on your knees. Your body shook with sobs. A pain rippled throughout you.

You rose, standing again and wiped your tears roughly with your sleeve. Then, you made your way through the next door.

This time, she looked even worse. You wondered if she had been sleeping at all. Her eyes opened slowly and she tried her hardest to smile. It fell immediately when she took in your state. You staggered towards her in your guilt and your grief. You slumped down into the chair beside her, beginning to sob once more.

“[First]?” She croaked.

“It was me...” you whispered through choked sobs, “I killed Lucy...”

“She... finally succumbed to him...?”

“I... I killed her...”

“What... happened...?” Her voice was so much slower and so much weaker.

“I sent him to her... in exchange for my life... I sent Dracula to kill her... Jack will never forgive me...”

“...[First]...” she began slowly, “Dracula... would have found her even if... you didn’t lead him there...”

Her words were of no consolation to you. Lucy was dead and it was your fault. You had lead Dracula to her so that you could live for just a few more months. Now that he didn’t have her to feed on, you knew it was your turn. You had prolonged your life by only a few months.

“Jack will never forgive me for this.” You sighed through your tears. How, just how would you be able to look at him again, knowing full well that you had caused the death of his most beloved person?

“He will... he’ll have to...” Zoe spoke.

“Can you believe I was that stupid?”

“Yes...” she deadpanned, and then weakly laughed before she began to cough, “but Dracula... fooled us all...”

“Zoe, what do I do...? He’ll find me again...” you had managed to compose yourself a little.

“Flee. You’ll just keep moving... and pray you don’t end up in the same place. Take Jack,” she pushed herself up so that she was sitting a little higher up, “you are the only ones who will know the danger...”

“Yeah, I’ve just killed his best friend, he’s definitely going to want to tag along in my race around the world for the rest of our lives to not get killed by a vampire.” You retorted, sarcasm dripping from your tongue.

“If anyone can, it’s you two... my best students.”

She extended her hand a little. You looked at it. You took it into your own. It was so cold. Not in the same way Dracula was cold. No, this was a tragic coolness. A deathly chill cursing her once floushied body. You hung onto her. She looked half-dead already. Her face had sunken in a little and her hair had thinned considerably. Her wrists had lost their plumpness and her fingers were bony.

This was what cancer did to the body. It plagued it. The strongest of them wouldn’t stand a chance.

“You truly were the best...” she smiled, closing her eyes.

“I do love you, Zoe.” You whispered.

“I know.”

~^*^~

The pew that you stood in was quite far back. Jack was in front of you by a few rows. He hadn’t looked at you once. You eyed the other people. Lots of friends, even more family members. Opposite you, on the left and just a row in front was a man you didn’t recognise. There was a green duffle bag on the ground beside him with a tag. He must be leaving after the service. That would make him Quincey, Lucy’s fiancé.

The service continued and at the front, Lucy’s mother, held back by her sister, sobbed uncontrollably. As the casket lowered down, you could hear her wailing “no” over and over. It broke your heart and the guilt washed over you once more. It was like there was a tiny voice in your head repeatedly screaming “you did this”.

Your selfishness, your desperation to survive had lead to this.

The church began to filter out, starting from the front and working it way backwards. Jack strode past you. His eyes were bloodshot and he had been biting his lip. He didn’t acknowledge you. Quincey wasn’t too far after. He was hard faced and clearly wasn’t as upset as Jack. Dear god, Lucy really had let him get away and she hadn’t even realised it.

Finally, your legs carried you out and you looked around. Jack was standing a few metres away, looking out towards the many graves. He hadn’t spoken to you in over two weeks and it was killing you. You had tried to get into contact with him, and when he had been to visit Zoe, she had demanded that he talk to you. She told you she had used the words “dying wish” to try and convince him, however he saw through her bluff and wasn’t planning on talking to you anytime soon. You sucked in another breath. You needed to talk to him. He was the only other person bar Zoe and Dracula who knew what had truly happened to Lucy. He needed your support as he grieved.

Your shoes clicked as you neared him and you tapped him on the shoulder. He turned away from you as soon as he realised who was trying to grab his attention. You sighed.

“Jack,” you whispered, “please talk to me.” He continued to look away.

“I have nothing to say to you.” He snapped and then sniffled a little. Ouch.

“Please, we need to talk about this. I’m the only other person who knows-“ you cut yourself off, not wanting to make a scene in exploiting your intimate knowledge on her death.

In your bag, your phone was buzzing erratically. You had no intention of picking up, as it had been for two weeks. Luckily, you had not disclosed your whereabouts and so for now, connection was cut.

Jack finally turned to you.

“Fine, let’s talk.” A tear was running down his cheek as his nostrils flared.

He grasped your wrist and began to tug you away from the crowd of people that had collected outside. Further and further, he lead you through the made of graves, coming to stop under an oranged tree whos leaves were delicately slipping away one by one. He let go of you, crossing his arms before sighing deeply.

“Jack,” you whispered, “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am...”

“She’s gone, [First]. She’s gone and it’s because of you. Because of that monster. Apologies won’t bring her back.”

“I know...” you blinked back your own tears.

“Did you truly hate her that much?”

Did you? Hate Lucy? God, yes. Anyone who knew your history with her knew that you had a justifiable hate towards her. But hate her enough to send her to her doom? You didn’t think so. Maybe leading Dracula to her was a rash decision, in your exhaustion just to save your own neck. Offering up the girl whom you had once loved so dearly as a simple happy meal for a true monster.

No, you didn’t. That was the short answer. Though, it was easy to assess that you did, however untrue it was.

“No, I didn’t hate her that much.” You confessed, “I... don’t really know why I did it... how could I have wished something like that upon her?”

“You tell me. You did it.” He challenged, sneering slightly.

“Trust me, I will carry my guilt with me for the rest of my life. Forever. And it will always hurt me. So please, please don’t cut me out again. I don’t know how long Zoe has and- and-...” the flurry of emotions watered your eyes heavily and you became unable to handle your tears, “you’re the only person who knows what Dracula is... you’re the only person who understands. I’m scared, Jack. It’s going to be me next.”

“[First],” he sighed. He knew that Lucy’s death could have been avoided had she denied Dracula her attention. Deep down, he knew that you had sent him on a whim to protect yourself. Of course he knew that you would never intend to harm somebody like that. But he needed to take his anger out on someone or else the cracking of his heart might hurt too much, “it won’t be you next.” He pulled you into him. It felt nice to have some physical comfort after locking himself away for two weeks.

Your phone began to buzz once again in your bag. You continued to ignore it.

“Are you going to answer that?”

“No...”

“It kept ringing all through the service. Who is it?”

You didn’t answer and almost immediately, he knew. He pulled away from you and before you had any time to protest, he had torn open your bag and took your phone. He answered.

“Ah, finally, you answer. I knew my persistence would win you over-“ Dracula’s smug voice rang through Jack’s ear and the urge to throw your phone as far and as hard as he could washed over him. Had it been his own phone, he would have obliterated it.

“It hasn’t.” Jack cut him off firmly.

“Oh, my, this is a surprise. Hello Mr. Seward. May I inquire as to why you have [First]’s phone?”

“Yeah, you can,” you watched Jack’s face twist in anger, “to tell you to fuck off. Oh, and don’t call her again. She won’t answer.”

Your mouth dropped. You gawked at Jack as he neatly replaced your phone back in your bag. Had he seriously just told the most dangerous creature to ‘fuck off’? You were in disbelief. And in that disbelief, in the entanglement of all of your emotions, you began to laugh. Hard.

“You didn’t seriously just-“ you doubled over and you could hear Jack begin to laugh along with you.

“That felt good.” He breathed through his laughs.

“Well, at least you took it out on someone.”

“Yeah, I suppose...” he looked at you. It had been way too long since he had spent some real time with you to just destress, “should we go get a drink?”

~^*^~

Jack awoke with a start. His room was illuminated and it took him a moment to register that it was his phone dining that had brought him from his sleep. He answered. It was Zoe.

“I’m checking myself out.”

The next hour went by like a blur. He needed to pick Zoe up from the hospital, which meant having to argue with two nurses who insisted on her staying. After literally screaming in one of their faces that he was taking Zoe, they were speeding off. She gave him directions, with a quiet and hoarse voice. She was clearly slipping away.

“Should I call [First]?” He asked, looking at her momentarily.

“...no... she shouldn’t come... because... well... she shouldn’t.”

The feeling that settled in his gut was bad. Really, really bad. Something was seriously wrong, but he knew not to press. Zoe would only give him an answer when she was ready. Until then, he’d just have to stay in the unknown.

On the other side of London, in a terraced house, keeping the living room lit was you. You had awoken early with a strange feeling in your stomach and had decided to come downstairs. Old American comedies were on reruns and you quietly laughed along at the jokes. Oh, if only you knew.

Dracula pulled open the door, and looked at the two.

“You don’t look very surprised.” He smirked at her remark.

“You don’t look very dead.”

“I’m getting there.” He nodded, and looked at the male standing behind her. Jack glared at him, and Dracula’s smirk fell from his face.

So, this was it.

He pushed the door more open to let them in and Zoe began to remark about how easy it was for them to find him. Dracula moved towards his chair and sunk down, not really paying her any mind. He pulled out his phone, tapping a string of words before slipping it back into his jacket pocket. Well, the quicker it was over, the better.

Your phone buzzed and you sighed. Reaching over, you grasped the cool device and your eyes adjusted to the brightness of the screen.

[DraccyBoi: I love you]

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026 @greeniemoon @blueinkblot @tefymorgan @misfitgirlwrites @lokiphan @newheart97 @middlespellman @bratty-sweetheart @dipsylou @lilmou5ie @the-fangirl-life10 @enchantersnight @imthedoctorlove @haleyea @hoefordarkness @divinemoonsters @dragosdaughter @certthekilljoy

[sherlockfanficwriting]

Dracula “Is it Love?” Part III

Summary - You grew closer to Dracula the longer you spent in his castle and so did he. A force held you together. After sharing a kiss together at the lake and entering the castle, a letter arrived for him. Danger lies ahead. Will Dracula reveal his secret to you? 

Warnings - blood, death, danger

A/N - What’s up bitches?? I’m back with a good story so sit down alone in a comfortable spot and grab your tea or water and get ready for part 3. Sorry, just really wanted to say that. I love dracula and claes as you know and i really felt like writing this one to break it up a bit. If you want preferred stories, it doesn’t have to be a series, or want to request i am BEGGING you to do so :) it can be from Sherlock to Dracula whatever you want. @the-life-and-times-of-a-nerd​ so sorry that you had to wait this long and probably forgot but forgive me and enjoy ! @punk-courtesan​ @lasgaleniel​ @carydorse

Dracula took the letter and eagerly unfolded it. He walked away, reading it, and disappeared through a corridor. You and Albert looked at one another. He saw a sense of concernment all over your face. You noticed for the slightest second that Albert shared it, but before you can blink it was gone. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked. 

Albert nodded. “I’m certain everything is well. There’s no need to worry.” 

You walked past Albert to find Dracula, but Albert grabbed your arm hard enough to stop you. You turned around, facing him. 

Albert let go of your arm when he saw your face and lightly placed his hand over your arm apologetically “My dearest apologies. I am beyond doubt that he must have some time....to read the letter over.” Albert was sincere in his words, but you were smart. You analyzed their actions. Something was different. Something strange. You didn’t know what it was, but you were going to figure it out. 

“I’m sorry, Albert. You’re right. Do you need help with anything?” 

Albert shook his head. “You should rest, dear. I do know the notion that rest equals beauty,” he said, smiling, urging you on. 

You smiled. “I’ll leave. Thank you, Albert.” You walked away and up the enormous main spiral staircase. You got away from Albert, but you had to find Dracula. You wanted to know what was in the letter. You wondered if he needed some space, but something kept telling you that that wasn’t it. You reached the top of the steps and looked left and right. The castle was beyond large and he could be anywhere now. You imagined there were secret corridors and doors, possibly trap doors, but they would be hard to find. You began walking left and scanned the hallway. Soon, the hallway led to another. Then another. You walked through a passage of narrow corridors and walked up small steps. You turned left and right and grew desperate. You had no idea where you were. You stood still and took in your surroundings. You backed up, trying to retrace your steps. As you did so, everything seemed to have changed. The hallways and walls looked different. Your mind, racing at an immeasurable speed, stopped you from wondering why. You decided to focus on doors. As you walked forward you noticed a door, conveniently nearby. You walked up and wrapped your hand around the handle. It was cold. You prayed the door opened. 

It did. 

You slowly walked inside the room, adjusting to its darkness. There was only two candles in the room. Somebody must come here sometimes. The room was blank. After your eyes tuned to the darkness, you noticed a box near the middle of the room. You walked closer, examining it. It was in the shape of a rectangle. Not too narrow, but not that wide. It evened out a bit at the top. You crouched down, looking at the surface. It was made of smooth and beautiful dark wood with intricate designs outlining the upward indentation. Your mind wandered. What was this? You placed your hands at the edge of the top and slowly lifted it open. Nothing. There was a deep navy velvet padding inside. You immediately knew this was for a person. 

Coffin 

How could you forget? You hadn’t been to any funerals your whole life and hope not to. It was understanding that you forgot. But why is there a coffin here? You began thinking hard. Without any hesitation, you climbed inside the coffin, making sure your feet were on the bottom. You stretched your arms above you. There was plenty of space. It wasn’t meant for someone of your frame and height. It was too wide and tall. You climbed out and thought. Why did Dracula have it? Was it for him? It could have been here for awhile, maybe when he started living here. You had no idea. You still hadn’t found him and you were lost. You closed the coffin lid and walked out of the room. You began walking away aimlessly. As soon as you turned the first corner you were nearly knocked down as you ran into someone. Dracula. He caught your arms and pulled you up. 

You gave him a slight smile and let go of his arms. He sensed your hesitation and your mood. 

“Are you well?” He asked. 

You kept your head down and looked at his shoes. “What was in the letter?” You asked. 

Dracula’s lips formed a line. “It was just some family writing to me about something.” 

“Why is there a coffin here?” 

Dracula’s face tensed up. His eyebrows furrowed inwards at you. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s just a question.” 

“Where were you?” 

“I was lost. I can’t ever find my way around here. You stormed off.” 

“I’m sorry.” He took your hands, but you didn’t hold him back. 

“Why are you lying to me?” 

He didn’t answer you. 

“You’re hiding something.”

No answer. 

“You can tell me. Why won’t you?” 

“I can’t.” 

“Everything is so strange. Everything about you. I wish you told me. I can’t understand you sometimes.” 

Dracula looked hurt. He wanted to tell you, but he hesitated. He was afraid of your reaction. He wanted to keep you safe. He worried about what he might expose you to. He was thinking. 

“My mother died. That’s why the coffin’s there. I never had enough heart to move her here. That’s what was in the letter.” He lied. 

Your heart sank when you heard this. You felt horrible. Immediately you embraced him, wrapping your arms tightly around him. He liked being with you and embracing you, but he felt bad. It was for the wrong reason. He lied to you. He had to think about his next step, but for now he prioritized getting you away for sometime.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t so close to her. I’d rather not talk about this.” He said. 

You nodded. “I won’t. I’m here for you.” 

He smiled and winked at you. “It’s late. You should sleep.” He took your hand and walked you through the corners of the hallway and led you to your room which was near the main staircase. You felt comfortable not being lost anymore. You stood up straight and reached to kiss his cheek then went inside. You heard him walk away. You felt awful but helpless. Everything still seemed odd to you. After getting ready for bed you opened your curtains. You easily fell asleep with the moonlight shining on your face. 

a few hours later 

You unexpectedly woke up from your sleep from hearing voices. 

“I have to go, Albert. I can’t tell her anything.” A low voice spoke. You slowly crept to your door, trying to hear more. 

“Are you ever going to?” Albert asked in a hushed voice. 

“I don’t know. What if she runs off or hates me.” 

“If she does that then wouldn’t you.....?”

“Never. I couldn’t.” 

Your heart beat harder. What was he talking about? Surely it was about you. You placed your hand on the door handle and slowly twisted it open. You cracked it narrowly open and snuggly moved your body through the open space to the hallway. You walked quietly to the main staircase and crouched down. You had a view of Dracula and Albert. They were sitting at the kitchen table, with a glass of wine. 

“When are you leaving?” Albert asked. 

“Tomorrow night.” 

“What do I do?” 

Dracula rubbed his temples. “Tell her I’m on....business. Make something up.” 

You wanted to know where he was going. You instantly felt that the story about his mother wasn’t true. 

“I’ll try. I can’t guarantee it. She loves you.” 

Dracula looked up at him when he said the word, love. “Try your best.” 

“Will you need any help tomorrow?” Albert asked. 

Dracula shook his head. “It’ll all go perfectly. Don’t worry about me. I’m used to it.” He stood up and nodded at Albert. “Good night.” He walked away. You rushed back into your room quietly and hopped into your bed. You closed your eyes and tried hard to sleep. After a few minutes, you heard footsteps nearing your room. You breathed calmly and focused on looking like you were asleep. You heard the door open accompanied with slow footsteps nearing your bed. It was Dracula. He stood to the side of the stream of moonlight and looked at you. He felt nothing but love when you were around. Your immeasurable beauty was ingrained in his head. Your gentle yet powerful presence stabilized him. Your voice and charisma bound everything together. He replayed moments he had with you repeatedly in his head. You changed him, but could he trust you with his true being?

He walked out of your room. You waited a few minutes and relaxed. Sleep overcame you. 

----------------------

A stream of sunlight poured into your room and shined onto your face, awaking you. Last day’s events were fresh in your mind. You had a plan for today. You knew where he was going and when. You had to get past Albert. This was something that you knew you were capable of. 

You got out of bed and opened your closet. You looked past the dresses and saw your backpack. You opened it and pulled out a pair of black pants and shirt. It would be easier for you to walk through the woods after Dracula if you had to. You slipped on a pair of canvas shoes and walked out of your room and down the staircase to find Albert sitting on the kitchen table with a book and a half eaten egg. He noticed you walk in. 

“Good morning. Did you sleep well, dear?” 

You nodded. “I just feel sick. I might just sleep today. I don’t feel too well.” 

Albert looked sad. “I’ll make you some tea and won’t bother you,” he said, walking to the cupboards, “I have the perfect thing that perhaps will help you.” 

You sat down. Everything was falling into action. You made your best effort to appear drowsy. You threw in a few coughs. 

Albert rushed over to you with your tea and rubbed your back. “I don’t like seeing my little dear like this. After you drink this you must rest. Come down if you’re hungry or need anything.” 

You smiled at Albert and finished your tea. You walked upstairs and thanked him. As soon as you got up you walked normally to your room. You had to find out where Dracula was going, but how? He was never present during the day. It was always brushed off as business, but was it really? You began thinking hard. If he wasn’t here or even if he was he would have to come back and get ready or something like that. It makes sense. You turned to your window and looked out. There was a large ledge which you imagined led up to the roof. You shook your head. You needed an easier way to sneak out without Albert seeing you. You walked out of your bedroom and closed the door. You crouched down by the railing of the staircase. There was a good view of Albert. He was drinking something and reading his book. 

Bathroom 

You had an idea. He would obviously have to use the bathroom. When he does, you can leave outside and hide somewhere and wait. It would be hard, but you were ready. 

-----

After a long amount of time, Albert stood up and stretched his arm. Your eyes opened wider and adrenaline began rushing through you. He closed his book and walked out of the kitchen. You waited a few seconds incase he would come back. After you were certain he wouldn’t come back, you rushed down the steps and to the front door silently. You opened it carefully and snuck out without making any noise. You let out a long breath and quickly hid behind a tree. You would wait here for night then follow him. You had to know. 

After plucking the grass and dozing off many times, you realized it was night time. The sun was setting and it would be complete blackness soon. You moved your head halfway out of the tree to look at the door. It was closed, but you sensed he was coming soon. He had to be. The sun continued to sink down the horizon and as soon as the last glimpse of it was gone, the doors to the castle opened. You caught your breath and watched Dracula swiftly walk out of the castle. It struck you as odd of the timing that he left. You concentrated on him and made sure he didn’t see you. He passed through the forest and continued walking. You silently darted from tree to tree, keeping a generous distance between you two. The moonlight gave enough light for you to follow him. Time continued passing and you couldn’t wonder where he was going. You traveled through endless woods. As you neared a hill going down, you noticed a building full of lights. You squinted. It looked something like a monastery. You brushed it off and continued to focus on keeping up. Dracula walked nearer to the monastery. You couldn’t understand why. You stopped following him as the ground turned into stone. You hid behind a fence, but kept an eye on him. He walked in front of a gate and stood there. 

On the other side of the gate a woman in a blue robe came out. She was a nun. She stood in front of the gate away from him. You were confused but intriguingly watched. 

“I’m here.” Dracula said. 

“You are not invited in.” The nun said. She had a strong accent. 

“That’s not a problem.” 

“Jonathan Harker is here. We know everything. You’re a beast.” 

“Harker? He has some grit.” 

“What do you want?” The nun’s voice was strong, but you noticed her terror. 

You walked away from the fence and closer to the building, still hidden. You were interested in where this was leading. Who was Harker? 

A dozen of other nuns walked out and stood by the first nun. They pulled out wooden daggers. Your heart dropped. You didn’t understand what was happening, but you knew it was something bad. You were missing something. The first nun opened the gate and Dracula stood there. He took off his long cloak. Your heart was out of your mouth. You were terrified. 

He began walking inside, past where the gate, but no one stopped him. The nuns seemed terrified. Their hands quivered. The first nun ran up to him and drew her dagger back. At this point you began running to them. You couldn’t make it in time before she stabbed him. The other nuns began screaming and started fleeing. Dracula didn’t react. You stopped in your tracks, a few feet away from him, marveling over what just happened. He seemed to grow larger and powerful. It was as if a new being took over his body. You whimpered behind him as you watched. You were beyond scared and clueless. A nun, shaken with fear, stood next to him. She couldn’t move. Dracula immediately grabbed her and shoved his face into her neck. You didn’t know what was happening, but the nun cried out in pain. You ran up to him and tried to pry him off, but his arm, stronger than ever, hit you across your body and took you down. You started crying. You didn’t understand anything. 

Dracula turned around and the nun’s lifeless body fell limp. He saw you and stopped. He drew his breath in. He underestimated your intellect. He grew internally angry at himself, embarrassed at himself. How could he lead you to this? He dreaded your reaction. You saw his eyes,a deep black and his teeth, full of two sharp fangs. Blood was all over his mouth and dripped down his neck. You felt like you were in a nightmare. You were weak in your knees and started to fall over, but someone aggressively helped you up. It was the first nun. 

“Come!” She cried out. She had her arm around you and ran away inside with you, breathing hard. Different motions were present in your mind. You ran across the courtyard with her. She took you inside and into a small basement lit by only three candles. You sat on the stone cold ground and continued crying. 

“Hold this.” She handed you a wooden dagger. You couldn’t physically put yourself to hold it. All you thought about was Dracula. You kept revisiting the past days you had with him. 

“What is he?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why did he do that?” Your voice was breaking. 

“He’s a vampire!” She cried out. 

You had only heard that word once before. It was during your childhood. You remember. You never knew what it meant. You never questioned it or thought about it, but now you understood. The clues were all there. You never knew how to connect them. You didn’t know the end result. You had a dictionary of questions. You knew that one thing was certain. You understood more than this. 

“He won’t hurt me.” You told her and began walking away. She grabbed your arm, trying to pull you back.

“He will! You must stay here!” She was desperate. 

You broke away from her grip and ran up and out of the building into the courtyard. He hadn’t moved one bit, but turned around when you came up. You walked to him and as you got closer you noticed his eyes lighten. His teeth were normal. The force of powerfulness wasn’t present anymore. He was vulnerable when you came. You did something that shocked him. You took his hand and held it in yours. It was cold. You allowed him to understand you. You understood him. He was different. This whole time he was different, but he protected you. 

“I understand.” You said. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You can’t do this anymore. Not right now. We need to leave.” 

The first nun interjected. “What are you doing? You must be the same thing as him! Do you see what you did here?” She was scared. 

You didn’t understand why he never tried to kill you. You were different. How? It had to be something deep from within. You didn’t know. 

The first nun circled around you. She looked into your eyes and looked you up and down. 

“Westenra.” The nun said. 

You faced her completely. “Agatha, what are you talking about?” Dracula asked, his voice cold and serious. 

You looked at him.“That’s my last name.”