#these belmonts are getting out of control i miss when trevor tried to kick me in the balls now i have to fight goku | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aquilaofarkham · 6 years ago

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title: varulven rating: teen and up word count: 5,717 summary: After being bitten by a werewolf, Trevor, knowing he doesn’t have much of a choice, accepts his fate following a painful transformation during the full moon. He quickly gets used to his new body with the support of Sypha and Alucard, who uses his own wolf form to better connect with Trevor. Part two of this piece.

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The forest overwhelms him; too many new sounds, new scents, and new sensations all happening at once. The newly born lycan can hear everything from the smallest mouse digging into the frozen dirt, readying itself for hibernation, to the subtle crack of an owl’s talons clawing into tree bark as it moves from branch to branch. It watches and waits, ever so patient for that very same mouse.

This assault on his senses continues. All things previously closed off when he was human have suddenly been opened. Through his eyes, the world is closer, more intimate. No moment to breathe. His thoughts are bursting with excitement and uncertainty, confusion and fervor.

He lifts his head and sees a white wolf upon a nearby hill. Sitting on his hind legs, head raised high and tall, staring back at the lycan. The skies are dark, save for the full moon, but thank god it’s not snowing else they’d never find each other. He knows the wolf will stay there all night if he has to, but the lycan won’t keep him waiting for much longer. This is a comforting sight; one that compels him to move forward. To join his friend, now that the two of them share more similarities than ever before (unconventional as they are).

Contrary to what most people believe, vampires and lycans get along very well.

Trevor doesn’t know if he will make peace with this form. It’s too soon to tell. But joining Alucard on a run through the snow-covered woods seems to be a decent start. White fur and dark grey fur move quickly against a sea of pin straight black trees. Their swift paws kick up snow as one tries running just an inch faster and further than the other—whether either of them realizes it or not.

When Trevor arrived home a month ago with claw marks gracing his shoulder, Alucard and Sypha did their best. All of them did their best. The two consulted books, legends, and remedies while their hunter prepared himself for the worst. Trevor will forever be grateful to them, despite their failure to stop the lycan’s curse. After the pain of transformation ended, he suddenly felt nothing. He could see nothing, only blood red and an emptiness surrounding him. It was dark inside the wolf. A realization that his body was no longer his own. He had lost control over it.

The first thing Trevor heard was his name. Faint and very weak, not strong enough to pull him out of the darkness. Whatever force held dominion over his body, its immediate instinct was to bare its fangs and violently lash out.

“Trevor, it’s us. You remember, I know you do.” The second thing Trevor heard. Clear and recognizable, even in his state. Sypha’s firm, unwavering, yet calm voice, a voice he always hoped to hear again, was able to cut through the prison that trapped his human thoughts and sight. Another problem solved, another victory she could hang off her belt. Sypha needed one of those, yet she also knew it wasn’t time to celebrate. No premature smiles or breaths of relief.

Trevor vaguely remembers what happened next; low to the ground, he crawled towards the two human creatures in front of him. Uncertain of how much personal control he had regained. Nor was he sure of how easily it could slip away again. Then same another familiar voice, like a candle in a dark corridor leading him to someplace brighter. Trevor Belmont is always in want—or rather, in need of brighter things.

“Trevor...” Alucard was never one to reveal his true emotions especially in the way he spoke. Neutral, steady, and blunt. Most often rude if he were in a foul mood, yet he raised his voice sparingly. But if Alucard was attempting to hide a certain emotion in that single word, he failed. All Trevor could hear was a desperate plea for hope.

He put their fears to rest when the front of his head gently pressed into Alucard’s outstretched palm. Trevor didn’t move beyond that; too ashamed, too scared of this new form that dwarfed his friends. Alucard cautiously slid his hand up between the lycan’s eyes before scratching his ears. Something Trevor did to those old grey Belmont wolfhounds of his long gone home. A shockingly pleasant sensation, making him feel akin to one of said large, gentle beasts he misses so dearly. Large is obvious, but gentle? Trevor wants to try his best.

It was a good decision to leave the cellar with the now broken door. Trevor would have otherwise cowered in a corner come sunrise. Out here, deep in the snow and cold air, adrenaline rushes through his veins just as easily as blood. Mixed with his habitual tendency to compete against the dhampir, it’s enough to propel him forward, matching Alucard’s speed.

This forest is his. Theirs.

One should never underestimate Sypha Belnades. She’s sent demons back to hell in flames of her own creation. She stood against the vampires’ mad lord and burned him to ashes which flew off into the night sky, their final resting place unknown. She played reluctant peacemaker between two men, more like children despite their own abilities. A minimal accomplishment compared to others, but an accomplishment, nonetheless. All those moments when she held her bright fingertips close against their temples saying, “Grow up or I will light both of your skulls on fire”.

Keeping track of two wolf-like creatures seems easy compared to everything else. Stay close, stay watchful, and never stray too far from the fresh set of paw prints in the snow. A real-life Ariadne with her precious red thread. Sypha adored listening to those stories from her childhood, begging to hear one more before bedtime. It didn’t matter if they were real or not, though she always believed they were.

Belief is a powerful force; just as if not more powerful than her spells. She still believes in many things that cross bearing men reject; things good and bad. Of magic, vampires, and the myths that give life to both. Sypha loves her myths—even the unsettling ones. The ones that unearth truths that no one wants to hear. She once hoped some of them would help spare Trevor from his eventual fate.

She sat on the floor of their library, surrounded by piles of books like stone walls. A momen in time that feels long ago but in reality, happened only a few short days prior to the full moon. The words in front of her blurred together as she rubbed her aching eyes, yet she kept reading.

Sypha studied the lycan’s many origins: they came from a scorned lover of Gilgamesh, having been turned into a wolf against their will. No, they were punished by the god Jupiter for eating the remains of a sacrificed boy. Actually, they were merely by-products of the oldest vampires. On and on an on. She read of the symptoms: nightmares, vomiting, lack of an appetite. Increase in agitation. She wanted to scream, “I know that already” into the pages of those particular books. What she needed from these myths were cures.

While it made her hands twitch and her heart pound with anxiety, Sypha did what she promised Trevor: she kept searching. She kept reading.

So engrossed in her reading, Sypha barely noticed Alucard as he sat down beside her. A silence grew between them every time her fingers flipped over another page. He watched her eyes move from line to line, scaling down. A warm light filled the library; it would be dark soon and he wasn’t about to let her go through yet another sleepless night. Sypha’s sharp mind needed rest, but then again, they all did.

“You have that look again.” Despite how softly he spoke, Alucard noticed her jump. Sypha glanced at him briefly, then returned to her book, burying her nose in even deeper.

“What look?”

“The one that says focused yet angry. Calm, but disturb me and I will separate your head from your neck.”

She hid her amusement at Alucard’s dark brand of humour. “I am not angry.”

“Are you certain?”

“... perhaps a little. More frustrated. These books have nothing that can help us. There are apparently plenty of ways to tame a lycan after they transform.”

“But no methods of curing them.”

Sypha closed the book; Alucard took that as a yes. “What about you? I’ve seen you held up in that laboratory. Sometimes for hours on end.”

When they started rebuilding the Belmont manor with its library, bedrooms, armoury, and kitchen, they added a new room. A mirror image of the laboratory and clinic Alucard remembered so fondly. Full of medicines, glass tubes, and other devices neither Trevor nor Sypha fully understood but were willing to learn. He used it more often than them, carrying on important, irreplaceable work.

A local rumour began spreading amongst the neighbouring villages. Talk of a stranger dressed in black going from door to door, giving remedies to the sick while refusing payment. They never did manage to catch this good Samaritan.

Sypha once saw Alucard with his hair different. Still loose but tied with a simple hairband and hanging over his breast. When she mentioned it, innocently enough, Alucard went quiet. She hasn’t seen him like that since.

“Did... did your mother’s notes say anything?”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t have very many patients afflicted with the lycan’s curse.” Usually Sypha could recognize the sarcasm in Alucard’s tone; this time proved more difficult. “But I had more success reading the notes she and my father wrote together. I’ve started concocting a tonic using distilled wolfsbane.”

“And...”

Alucard didn’t want to give Sypha false hope. “It still needs work. With its current state, it will most likely kill him.”

“Maybe...” Sypha stopped herself. Never in her life did she want to admit defeat. Always too stubborn, too proud, tasting bile in her mouth if she even thought about it. Yet she told Trevor and Alucard to grow up. Perhaps it was time she did as well, especially if the life of someone she loved was at stake.

“Maybe it would be best if we let Trevor transform. We can use your tonic to ease the pain when he changes and then try taming him afterwards. These books annoy me beyond anything else, but I found a manuscript about northern lycan myths.” Shoving aside everything else, she grabbed a flimsy set of brown papers held together by thread and sheer perseverance. “It stood out the most. I think it may assist us.”

Alucard stared at the so-called “book” in Sypha’s hand. Its ink scrawls were barely legible to his eyes. “We would have to tie him down. Or lock him somewhere secure.”

“We have that cellar. I know you don’t like this plan.”

“I don’t think either of us does.” Sypha nodded in agreement. “I will tell him.”

“You do not have to.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to help him.”

“He won’t like what you have to say. He’s barely gotten any rest.”

“No one living in this house has.” He placed his hand on her back. “Don’t worry, Sypha. I will talk to him.”

“Gently. Remember to be gentle with him.”

“I shall.”

“Before you do that, we need to finish that tonic. I will help.”

“That won’t be necessary. You should—”

Sypha pushed the manuscript against his chest. “I said I’m helping. And you should read this.”

Alucard smiled. “There’s not much I can say that would convince you otherwise, is there?”

“Nothing at all.”

Deep in her memories, Sypha nearly trips over herself. Alucard was right; she hated that plan. It worked, but she hated it for making her think the worst. For making her feel as though she had willingly doomed Trevor to his fate. That she had been defeated.

Her feet begin to ache. She keeps reminding herself of one thing: this is not defeat. Only another obstacle to overcome. A door opening to a new way of life. Sypha is used to walking through those. She scales up another hill, her two boys off in the distance, still in sight.

She should have worn better shoes.

Wolves cannot run forever. Even those of supernatural origins must stop, which is what Trevor and Alucard do. But one still has mountains of energy to burn. His head is a flurry of different thoughts. Some take root while most leave just as fast as they entered. No matter where they came from or what they entail, they all succeed in contradicting each other.

One thought manages to rise above the rest: what else can this new body really do?

Alucard takes his rest not far from Trevor, who seems to be in his own little world. Not content enough to run around in circles, he takes to rolling about in the snow, attacking it the same way a pup would pounce at everything in sight, animate or not. A pup... yes, that’s what Alucard is reminded of. He watches in amusement as Trevor trips over his legs, too long and cumbersome for his liking. No normal wolf would be able to handle such abnormal bodily proportions of a lycan’s.

It takes some trial and error—more error than trial. Only when Trevor actually stops to think does he regain some control over his limbs. No more flopping around; now he can revert straight back to his playful demeanour, this time on much steadier footing.

—Quite the beacon of terror, the dhampir thinks. Villagers must be quaking with fear underneath their bedcovers tonight.

Alucard lowers himself against the ground. Let Trevor have his fun. Lord knows he deserves it after a month of hell. This might even count as a valuable lesson. There’ll be plenty more to come.

Trevor rolls off his back and makes brief contact with golden eyes against white fur. Gold like amber or the cinders of a well-used fireplace. He looks at Alucard and wonders if the dhampir’s transformation is ever as painful as his own. No, Trevor realizes the longer he stares. Not painful or ugly at all. A few gentle, graceful wisps of smoke and the deed is done. Seems everything Alucard does is gentle and graceful, no matter what form he takes.

A mischievous thought worms its way into Trevor’s head. Alucard maintains his statuesque posture; beautiful, regal, and boring. At first, he ignores the other wolf, occasionally glancing in his direction out of curiosity and confusion. Packs of snow get thrown into the air with every wag of Trevor’s shaggy tail. Alucard’s head tilts slightly, his ears pinned back.

—What are you planning? Why are you staring at me like that?

What can barely be described as a tense standoff ends when Trevor shoves Alucard. Despite being larger and arguably stronger as a lycan, this action does nothing to faze his companion. Trevor repeats the gesture; still not enough to crack his hard exterior—but not enough to deter his scheming counterpart. Trevor charges headfirst into Alucard, more a ram than a wolf.

Alucard, if he so wanted, could overpower the lycan. Push him off or knock him flat on his own back. Yet he stays in a somewhat defeated pose with his limbs bent and dangling. Trevor continues his attempt at what Alucard can only assume is... bonding? He nuzzles his snout into the white wolf’s fur while his oversized front paws push against his exposed belly. Another jovial act between his family’s cherished wolfhounds.

Trevor also recalls riding on their backs as they took him up and down the halls of the Belmont manor then outside through the gardens when he was still small enough. Sypha might be able to ride on his back, maybe even Alucard as well. Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold.

Trevor becomes lost in this new, break-neck pace of thinking, one thought after another and then another. He doesn’t notice that the playful bites he’s been giving his friend have unknowingly turned aggressive. Alucard retaliates by baring his fangs and letting out a deep, guttural snarl.

—Not so rough.

Trevor instinctively backs away. As an apology, he lowers his head and tries making his body seem much smaller than it really is. The same action he attempted in the cellar following his change. Lycans simply take up too much space. Too large, too obstructive, and too rough, even towards similar creatures. He huffs out a frustrated breath into the frigid air.

Alucard ceases his growling when he sees this abrupt shift. He didn’t mean for his reaction to be so harsh. He’s supposed to be helping after all. Days before the full moon when Trevor quietly wept out of fear—fear of himself—Alucard showed his own vulnerable side. He let Trevor rest his head upon his chest, wiping away the tears and offering small words of comfort until he drifted off into a desperately needed sleep. How could either of them forget that evening?

His father taught him that even those most experienced in transfiguration often have difficulty controlling their emotions. Too dulled down or too impassioned, exploding at any spontaneous moment. It would explain Trevor’s excitable behavior.

Softly, he treads over to the curled-up mass of thick fur. Trevor pouts as though he were still human. He really is just a newborn lycan on his first night out; an overgrown pup. His playfulness should be seen as a blessing in disguise. Alucard gives his snout a couple gentle pats, apologizing himself. To which Trevor merely grumbles.

—Stick in the ass you are.

Alucard has no way of telling if that’s what he’s really thinking, but he can come to his own conclusions. He knows the Belmont well enough. He responds with a frisky bite to his ear, eliciting a surprised yelp from Trevor. Rows upon rows of fangs snap at Alucard, who always dodges them at the very last second, before getting pinned down.

They continue like this, chasing and wrestling each other, causing their own little intimate chaos. Even their growls sound happier. It took some time, but they’re finally playing the same game. All is well again—or as well as things could be.

It comes to an end when a sound off in the distance catches Trevor’s attention. He raises his head; ears perked up, and listens. It’s not Sypha, no doubt making her way across the rolling landscape, closing in on her two boys. It’s no human at all. Something else, perhaps an animal or more, scurries through the frozen underbrush. A certain primal urge suddenly rises within Trevor, one that all beasts share: the need to chase and hunt. He stands up, nose pointed in the direction of the noise, ignoring the white wolf’s yips. Before he can run off, Alucard bites down and pulls him back.

—For once in your life, wait.

Trevor does pause. but not without growling at him for leaving teeth marks on his tail. He begrudgingly lets Alucard take the lead. They begin their hunt.

Somewhere, a clock hand strikes past midnight. Trevor and Alucard huddle together, their eyes fixated on a small flock of wild pheasants. Not quite the prize they were hoping for, but decent practice. Like before, Trevor allows the white wolf to go first, all while trying to tell himself that as a human, he’s still the better hunter.

However, he must admit, it is mesmerizing to watch Alucard hunt as a wolf as it is watching him fight as a dhampir. Every step is deliberate and creates no sound as eyes never leave their prey, inching closer. A calculated, flawless leap forward, the panicked scattering of pheasants except for one thrashing around for freedom under his paw, and then finally, the wolf twists the bird’s neck in his jaws. He makes it all seem so easy.

Alucard carries the lifeless, slumped prize over to Trevor. So quick and barely even a drop of blood. He finds the rest of the flock a few feet away. They continue pecking at whatever berries and frozen grub they can scrounge for, unaware or having already forgotten that one of their own is dead. Trevor enjoys a challenge in all aspects of his life, but for now he’ll a dumb prey over a clever one. He start by mimicking Alucard’s movements and everything seems to be going well. Cumbersome due to his size but after some adjustments to his stance, the dhampir feels optimistic.

Then Trevor loses his chance to strike by half a second. The pheasants begin to disperse, and he rushes into them, striking one with his claws. It tries escaping; Trevor tries catching it. There’s a struggle as both hunter and prey put up their own fight. Jaws clamp down on the bird’s neck, but instead of a clean snap, splatters of blood and feathers cover the white ground. Trevor stares down at his prize, mangled and torn beyond recognition.

—Too rough. Again.

Alucard expected something like this would happen and, in the end, Trevor was successful in finishing his first hunt. So, he isn’t disappointed. Yet Trevor dully paws at what used to be a pheasant with dejection in his eyes. Alucard tries cheering him up by licking his bloody snout clean. It helps.

They come across a drove of jackrabbits with their guard down, a rare but lucky sight. The second hunt goes much smoother. Alucard catches two, Trevor four, all of which hang out of his mouth intact. If Sypha were here right now, she would have a good laugh at the sheer ridiculous sight of such a beast with his jaws stuffed to the brim with rabbits.

Speak of the devil. Out of the corner of Alucard’s eye, he sees Sypha in the near distance, two pheasants hanging off her hip. He motions for Trevor to follow him.

Trevor doesn’t acknowledge him, nor does he notice Sypha. If a new sound or smell no matter how faraway demands his interest, then he must comply. All else, even close friends, fade away. He can’t help it in this form. He meanders over the hills, leaving Alucard and Sypha to do little but trail behind him. Something tells them that this is not just simple curiosity pulling the lycan.

Silently, Trevor leads them to a clearing in the trees. Out of the darkness, shapes and silhouettes come into view. Not particularly large, but substantial. Some far apart, some close together. Houses, few of which still have candles inside, burning the night away. The softened lights illuminate each frosted window like small drifting halos. It’s deathly still in this hamlet; they might have never discovered its existence had it not been for Trevor.

—Trevor. Alucard joins his side, fearing the worst. His head is lowered as he violently bats at it with his paws, agitated by some unseen tick. Every breath comes out as a growling rasp while streams of saliva drip off his fangs. The look in his eyes, the one Alucard and Sypha know so well, is gone.

It’s happening again. Even the idea of being so close to other humans is enough to reawaken the hunger. Not to hunt or feed, but to rip and mangle and leave nothing unscathed. Trevor loses his balance, stumbling from foot to foot, shaking his head. God knows he’s trying to gain back control, and it hurts him. Alucard barks in his ear, deafening him.

—Fight it. Trevor, or what Alucard hopes is still Trevor, responds with a fierce snap of his jaws. They snarl, and bark, and brandish their claws. Sypha tears her eyes away, despite not wanting to. She can hear voices within the houses, villagers stirring from their rest at what they believe is the sound of two wolves tearing at each other’s throats. She pleads for them to stay inside. This doesn’t concern them.

—Fight it. God damn it, I know you can. Fight it!

Trevor doesn’t care for Alucard’s thoughts. With another swipe, he sends him skidding across the ground and into the base of a tree. The pain is sharp but quick. Alucard stands, thankful that he is no ordinary wolf. Before he can charge at Trevor, Sypha moves between them, her hands raised.

“Trevor, stop!” She’s not afraid, not anymore. Or rather, she doesn’t look afraid. Her expression is firm, brows furrowed. All concentration on this one spell. It needs to be performed without any uncertainty. There’s no fire or ice emitting from her fingertips, yet Trevor howls bloody murder.

Spells that can change the mind and its contents are dangerous. In the hands of a less experienced practitioner, too much can go wrong. If one doesn’t succumb to an early death, then madness. Which is why Sypha has always preferred to manipulate tangible elements. But she’s never been above taking risks. She focuses every bit of her energy into restoring Trevor’s conscience. Hopefully it will shift itself in the right direction and neither she nor Alucard will be forced to commit the unthinkable.

“Look at me... keep your eyes on me. It will be alright, I promise.” Sypha doesn’t make promises lightly. Trevor huffs, gritting his fangs, but his gaze never leaves her. He waves his head from side to side again, as if trying to shake off a terrible headache. The growls quiet until they disappear. Sypha breathes a relieved yet trembling sigh when Trevor’s eyes soften. She steps forward and wraps her arms around his head, so large her fingers barely touch. Her forehead rests against his.

“Shh, none of that. You did well. I told you it would be alright.” She strokes his fur, listening to every whimper.

As his senses return, so too does his memory. Trevor wriggles free from Sypha’s grasp and runs to Alucard, still whining. While shaken up, his body bears no serious injuries, only some out of place fur. That doesn’t stop Trevor from licking and nuzzling him like an overbearing mother wolf. Alucard appreciates the concern, but he can stop now. After a moment of calm respite between the three of them, he decides that this night should come to an end. Before Sypha can follow him, the tip of her hood gets caught in Trevor’s teeth.

“What is it?” He lets go and lowers his underside against the snow, gesturing to his back. He knows Sypha came here by foot, all on her own; he can’t just let her return the same way. “Oh... well, this is...” Does he really want her to...?

Trevor gives her a nudge before she can stutter out another syllable. Alright, then. When in Rome and all that. Grabbing handfuls of fur, Sypha climbs aboard. She fumbles a bit then finds a comfortable position. Moments like these make Sypha thankful for their isolated, self-contained life. How would she explain this to her grandfather or the other Speakers? Even so, she can’t help but bury herself deeper in Trevor’s warm fur.

They catch up to Alucard with his mouth full of dead jackrabbits. Using the light of the moon as their guide, a lycan, a dhampir in the shape of a wolf, and a Speaker magician retrace their steps back to their home. Back to their bed.

The next day arrives, bringing with it the sun as it crawls over the Wallachian mountainside. Sypha stirs awake and forces her sleep heavy eyes open. The hazy light of early morning shines through the snow-covered glass of the bedroom window panes. Curling into the fetal position, she holds her knees tight against her chest. Both hands massage her bare feet, alleviating some of their soreness after her midnight excursion.

Is it possible for a single night to feel stretched out to its limits? Lingering for longer than a few hours at the most? Sypha remembers the set of events that occured last night, despite them feeling like a dream. All of them tumbling into place one after another without rest. The last memory is of her in bed, safe, warm, and guarded. A bit suffocated but sleeping better than she did for the entire month. She knows who to thank for that.

Sitting up (a feat much easier said than done), Sypha believes she’ll look down at two wolves who are fast asleep. Just as she did before closing her eyes in the darkness, their bodies cuddled around her. One has white fur and a sleek build; the second, a lycan with thick fur and a mass that might have broken the bed in half.

She sees the white wolf, but in place of the other is a large blanket spreading out. As though the lycan had been neatly skinned and stripped of all its fur. The most curious thing about it is the human-esque shape protruding from underneath. Sypha lifts up one of the corners and with wide, bright eyes, she smiles. None of the books mentioned anything about this.

Trevor lies on his side covered by the fur blanket (or what must have been his skin), naked and in the grips of a deep, comfortable sleep. His breathing is gentle and every so often, a soft snore escapes. Sypha thinks she’s staring at an entirely different man. The tired, dark circles under his eyes are gone and his skin looks softer, healthier. Those years of turmoil and loneliness since he was twelve, all faded away after one night.

Tenderly, she runs a few fingers through his tousled hair. He will be fine. The fear she had when his fangs sharpened, and his eyes grew vicious was only momentary. Sypha wants to be hopeful, her most cherished emotion right after belief. She wants to hope and believe that Trevor might find the strength within himself to live with this curse. She also wants to bend down and hold him for the rest of the morning, no fear that he will disappear the next day or even in the next hour. But Sypha won’t wake him just yet. She slips out of bed, hurrying across the cold floor, a blanket wrapped around her shivering body, until she reaches the manor kitchen.

The lasting effects of a night well slept soon dissipate as Sypha abruptly stops, staring with surprised eyes at Trevor and Alucard’s midnight spoils. Namely, a pile of dead pheasants and hares complete with bloody feathers strewn along the wooden table where they have their meals together. They were all so exhausted, she almost forgot about those.

Sypha walks past the pile and begins preparing her breakfast.

Alucard is next to wake up. He opens his mouth in a wide yawn, licking dry lips, before giving his back a good stretch. After a few smooth wisps of mist rising into the air, he returns to his normal form. Fully clothed, wearing everything from his high boots, tight black pants, and the white shirt with the plunging neckline. He remains splayed across the bedsheets, straightening out the rest of his limbs. Letting out a tired yet satisfied moan, Alucard props himself up on his elbow and turns to Trevor. His reaction is just as pleasantly shocked as Sypha’s. Reaching over, he nudges him awake.

“Good morning,” he coos. Once Trevor’s eyes open and he gains an awareness of where he is, his cheeks go slightly pink.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Did you feel anything transfiguring back?”

“No, nothing at all. If only the first transformation went this way.”

“So, you remember everything we did. Hunting, running...”

“I do... more than I remember most things when I’m human. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what it felt like to run that fast. Then there was... when I almost—”

“Nothing happened. It wasn’t your fault, and no one was hurt. Remember that as well.” Aside from a brief lapse in contentment, Alucard is relieved at how well Trevor is taking everything. He stares at him for a bit longer. His blue eyes, normally so tired and worn, look so much brighter in the winter sunlight. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Actually, I feel better than good. I felt so heavy before. Everywhere I went, even when I met you and Sypha, I was constantly carrying around all this extra weight. You could never see it, but it was there, beating down on my shoulders while I rotted from the inside out. I don’t know, it sounds like I’m being too dramatic. But now... I feel lighter. Newer, I guess. It’s as though I’ve just taken the longest fucking bath of my life.”

“Interesting way to describe it.”

“But, be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“How hideous did I look? When I was... you know, in that form?”

Alucard doesn’t answer right away, preferring to keep Trevor in mild suspense. “It was not that terrible of a sight. You might actually look better as a lycan than a human.”

Trevor feebly tosses a pillow at his face. “Shut up.” Then comes an exasperated groan as he shoves his face into what used to be his “skin”. “Christ, that was a long night.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to go through it again?”

A valid question, and an important one. Trevor thinks about it at length. He can’t decide whether he wants his answer to be optimistic or his usual of reluctant acceptance. “I guess we’ll have to see in about a month’s time. Not like I have much of a choice.”

Alucard reaches over and grazes a couple fingertips along his stubbled chin. “You should know that I’m proud of you. We both are.”

“... don’t think I’ve heard that word come out of your mouth before.”

“Which one?”

“Proud. Of me in particular.”

“I’ve been proud of you many times in the past. I simply never vocalized it.”

“Well, my life’s purpose as been fulfilled. Guess I can die a happy man now.”

Grabbing the very same pillow, Alucard brings it down upon Trevor’s head again and again. “That was a horrible joke.” But the hunter, turn lycan, then turned back into a man only laughs.

Real laughter; it’s been too long since Alucard heard that sound.

#castlevania #trevor belmont #alucard #adrian tepes #sypha belnades #netflix castlevania #castlevania fanfiction #my writing #*cvfic #you don't necessarily have to read part one to understand part two but i'd still recommend it <3

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