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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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Spirits of wood and stream

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix series)

Characters: Greta of Danesti, Alucard

Relationship: Greta of Danesti/Alucard

Rating: Gen

Tags: Mythology References, Fairies (it's Castlevania folks), Oneshot, here's some original folklore for y'all, Fluff, Family bonding, alternate universe, post-Castlevania

Summary: A short, short. It *partly* fits into the prompt? Self-indulgent, random fluff. Highly unlikely? Yes, but I just. Wanted Alucard and Greta to hang with some fairies *ok?*

Ok.

And more girl!dad Alucard: featuring Elisabeta (because @blackreaderstation knows why).

Link: AO3

Written for @gretacardweek Day 6, prompt: Mythology/Fairytale AU

“You’re certain you know where we’re going?”

Alucard smiled impishly, bringing Greta closer until they walked hip to hip, blades of grass yielding beneath their tread. “I can find the whereabouts of their dwelling places, yes.”

She brought an arm around his waist, while her other hand held the smaller one of their companion. “The perks of having a link to the netherworld and sensing beings of the night.”

“Owed to that, yes, but I wouldn’t say they are of the night,” Alucard mused. “But they are as ancient.”

“Some people claim they’ve even seen them,” Greta said, “but it’s always hearsay. I’ve yet to find an actual account.”

“That’s because they don’t like being seen… or being sought.” Alucard looked her way.

Greta shook her head. “I’m not sure about this now. After all, what if they’re… " she paused, as if searching for the right word, “... unfriendly tonight?”

“I can’t wait to see the fairies!” a child’s voice chimed from down below. Elisabeta could barely contain herself. Her birthday was two days prior, and her sole wish had been to get a glimpse of the spirits of the forest everyone claimed existed. Folk had laughed, but Alucard - to everyone’s shock - had said that was something entirely achievable.

And now here he was, walking his family through the dark forests near Belmont, though for precaution both adults carried their swords.

“They can be dangerous,” Alucard contemplated his reply. “But even before the castle moved here, we used to travel with my father to see them. When I was still a wisp of a child—”

“Like me!” Lis chirped.

“Yes, quite like you,” Alucard continued, earning a smile with no teeth, “back then, your grandfather would travel with us, to show your grandmother - and by extension, me - there was beauty to the night, that there was life in darkness, and occasionally we stopped by their homes.” He looked down at Elisabeta, winking, “… and partook in their festivities.”

“Ohhhh!” she gasped, stumbling on a rock.

“That sounds… strange, and beautiful, Adrian,” Greta added. “I wish I had met them,” she murmured, “your parents, that is.”

“I wish that too,” Alucard said, looking ahead, and his smile fell. Would he ever see them again, beyond this life?

“I’m sorry,” Greta held him tighter, “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right,” Alucard kissed her temple, “It really is.”

“You have us now, Papa!” Lis went around them, reaching for his hand and squeezing tightly as Alucard looked down at her with a soft smile. “You’ll never be alone.”

His heart did a somersault of both joy and grief; never, to him, meant something altogether different. But he couldn’t think about that now; the present was all that mattered. And them. Alucard bent down and lifted the child to him, holding her on his hip as her own arms wound around his neck; her head rested on his shoulder. “I know, little one," he said. He gazed at Greta, whose eyes shone with affection and something else that made his insides turn to liquid warmth. “I want for nothing,” Alucard said, meaning so many things.

Blue evening pricked the wood, and rushing fireflies twirled around them with their little bodies like golden beads of light. Alucard followed a random path, deeper, their step languid, seeking those elusive beings that many claimed had caught sight of, but none could ever confirm, let alone remember what they looked like.

The land was silent, as though the trees themselves watched their steps, and Alucard felt a spike in his awareness alerting him of unseen presences; eyes watching them from afar.

“We’re close,” he said, opening himself to another plane of existence, and the minds inhabiting it; seeking the wavelengths thrumming beyond those of mortal perception. We mean no harm. We merely wish to know you.

No reply. He felt Greta’s warmth at his side and the bundle of warmth in his arms, and thoughts of their family took him, and how the years would unfold for them.

Will you allow us to see you?

“I always wondered if they only inhabit forests,” Greta mused, looking left and right, clutching at him. Shy moonlight coated the tops of trees and filtered through bare branches, and everything seemed layered in silver, down to the dried leaves beneath their boots.

“They live everywhere,” Alucard said, “and are worshipped as divinities around the world, under different names. They live in the sky, in forests, caves and marshes. Whether you call them nymphs, vili or sídhe, they are the same: deities of nature who inhabit our world since the dawn of time.”

“Anton claimed he saw one bathing in a spring once,” Greta concurred. “I told him he was lucky to get away with his wits intact.”

“Close to the truth,” Alucard grinned. “I would not wish it upon anyone to stumble over them in their song. The enchantment may rob one of speech for a long while, if so they deem, among other things...”

“I still want to see them!” Lis mumbled bravely in his arms. “I’m not afraid.”

Greta laughed, “A few more years and you’ll be training with us.”

“I can’t wait!” the child gushed, undeterred.

Stillness surrounded them, and Alucard focused again, his thoughts drawing on memories of his own time among them.

We mean no harm.

They came upon a small glade fringed with oaks. “There!” Greta pointed to the ground. “The land is scorched here in a semi-circle, as though…”

“As though someone trampled it with fire,” Alucard set Lis down, then looked around. “Stay clear of the circle.”

Golden one…

Alucard stopped walking, and Greta caught his arm. When he looked back at her, his pupils were dilated to fathomless black, and in the moonlight, he looked a wraith himself; a beautiful, haunting spirit, not meant for this world. “What is it?” she whispered as their daughter hugged her legs.

“They’re here,” he said. Something trickled into his mind, like a languid shadow, imbued with the murmur of rivers or the many voices of the air.

It has been a long time...

Alucard closed his eyes.

“What’s happening? Are you… are you speaking to them?” Greta asked, her hand involuntarily reaching for the hilt of her sword.

Alucard nodded, then grasped her forearm.

Your weapons...

“Place your sword by your feet,” he said, carefully doing the same.

“What are you telling them?” Greta asked, setting the scabbard down.

“That we mean no disrespect,” Alucard straightened, his gaze searching.

“Look!” Lis shouted, her slight finger pointing ahead, disturbing the silence further.

Golden-green light swelled and filled the clearing, rising like sprites, drifting slowly towards the three of them.

Alucard brought Greta into him by her waist, hugging Elisabeta close with his other arm. “Now, watch,” he said, then whispered into Greta’s hair, “We’re safe, don’t fret.”

“I… I’m not,” she said. “I trust you.”

The motes of light swiveled around them in a slow, seeking dance, and it was not long before they took the form of features, and like visions of starlight materialized into mortal fabric, they became faces. Soft, round, beautiful faces, attached to youthful, slithering bodies of a green-gold sheen, shimmering like scales with each twirl of movement. They wore no garments but stood wrapped in their long, flowing hair, shining dark and green like moss; and soon enough, they burst into song.

“It’s… beautiful, Papa!” Lis gasped in wonder, and Alucard had to agree. Nothing compared to their song, as he had learned long years past. Neither did they like to be watched in their dance, and being invited to do so was an honor rarely bestowed upon the living.

The golden circle around them grew wider and wider, and immaterial bodies turned and swiveled until none could tell they were not living flesh and blood, and their eyes shone like crumbled stars against the crumpled fabric of night.

And they sang. There were seven of them, each voice adding a distinct wreath of rising notes, a rich shade of raw beauty to the sounds, soft like blooming flowers in spring but soaring like angry storms or turbulent, flooding rivers.

Greta’s head fell on Alucard’s shoulder, and she still clutched him tightly. “What do we do now?...”

A family… much has changed for you.

Alucard smiled, bowing his head to the one who broke away from the dance, nearing them on soundless bare feet and extending an arm that shone like sunlight on water.

“They... they want you to join them,” Alucard said, bemused.

Greta hesitated, then her warm brown eyes moved from his face to that of the spirit, and its green, sharp-toothed smile. She looked at Alucard again, who nodded in reassurance. Slowly she unlatched herself from him and took the soft, gleaming hand, her warm fingers exploring the sleek skin, the long-clawed webbed fingers. “She feels… warm,” the woman said, absorbing the spirit’s features, turned luminous and friendly.

The fairy opened her mouth, and the song of robins left her blood-red lips. Alucard blinked, appearing surprised, but soon settled into a peaceful expression.

“You can understand them, now?” Greta looked at him, then at the already dozing Elisabeta in his arms. Apparently, this was as much excitement as she could take.

“Yes,” Alucard said. “Their names are not meant to be known because of the spell-casting powers they hold. But… but she just said you may call her Zalina. They... welcome you,” Alucard added, even as Greta was led slowly forward, and with one last look at Alucard behind her shoulder, joined hands with the others.

They resumed their strange, unreal dance, and soon enough her living laughter bubbled in their surroundings as Alucard watched, smiling and cradling Lis to him. He watched them with a pang of sorrow for the memories they evoked, looking up at the stars and recalling how it had been he in Lis’ place as his parents watched, long ago. And they danced faster, ever faster, and even to his eyes that were used to their kind, the mortal in their midst seemed to change until it was hard to tell she was not one of them.

END

A few notes from folklore on 'iele' (I used some of these characteristics, went AU with others):

Their real names are secret and inaccessible, and are commonly replaced with nicknames based on their characteristics. But there are also personal names which appear. These names must not be used randomly, as they may be the basis for dangerous enchantments. It is believed that every witch knows nine of these pseudonyms, from which she makes combinations, and which are the basis for spells.

The iele are said not to be solitary creatures, but gather in groups in the air, where they can fly with or without wings; they can travel with incredible speeds. The iele appear sometimes with bodies, at other times only as immaterial spirits. They are young and beautiful, voluptuous immortals, their frenzy causing delirium in onlookers, and with bad tempers, but not necessarily evil. They come in groups of three or seven [no eyewitnesses though to ascertain this @_@ :3]

Generally, not considered evil genii: they resort to revenge only when they are provoked, offended, seen while they dance, when people step on the trodden ground left behind by their dance, sleep under a tree which the iele consider as their property, drink from the springs or wells used by them. Terrible punishments are inflicted upon the ones who refuse their invitation to dance, or the ones who mimic their movements [they like Greta well enough though].

Their beautiful voices are used to enchant their listeners, similar to the Sirens from ancient Greek mythology. Invisible to humans, there are however certain moments when they can be seen by mortals, such as when they dance at night. When this happens, they abduct the victim, punishing the "guilty" one with magical spells, after they previously caused them to fall into sleep with the sounds and the vertigo of the frenetic Hora, which they dance around their victim, who is abducted, to disappear forever without a trace [Yikes. Ignore this one for now].

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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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@gretacardweek Day 6: Fairytale AU

“Travel safely, my love, and return back to me.”

“As if I would do anything else.“

#Day 6 #Mythology/Fairytale AU

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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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Gretacard Week has ended, but that doesn’t mean we are done celebrating! Entries for any of the prompts will be accepted until the end of this week on Sunday, November 14. And never forget every week is a Gretacard week.

Thank you to everyone who participated who made this a great event! 🥰 See you next year!

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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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On the last day of Gretacard Week...

I present several unfinished snippets from a Reincarnation AU!!! (It’s also Snippet/Some Sentences Sunday, right?)

This was inspired initially by the Gretacard Week (@gretacardweek) day 2 prompt ‘Reincarnation AU’ but then from there, it started to work for a bunch of the others ones (day 4 ‘Modern AU’), but like all my other contributions, I can’t quite call it finished yet. (I’m sorry! I’ll post it to AO3 eventually!)

I have the summary done, at least!

How many times has he fallen victim to his own wishful thinking? There have been others. A glimpse of her hair, her nose, her laugh. But they’ve never been her. Alucard likes to think that he learned something from his father’s mistakes. But this time, she finds him. Again.

Just like the first time. It’s probably just coincidence. But those eyes. That disarming twitch of her lips and the smirk he could never decide what to do with then and certainly, with the past five hundred and some years to miss it so desperatetly, hasn’t the faintest idea what to do with it now.

It has to be her. And if it’s not? Well, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself this time. Perhaps join his father in perpetual rest deep in the family vault. No. No…he’s on a mission. There’s a reason he’s been awakened…here and now. A prophecy? A Belmont…

And this was inspired by the day 4 prompt ‘Lucky you have me here’…

“You’re lucky I found you!” the stranger chastises him as she opens the door and shakes the rain from her coat before kicking her rubber boots off just inside the door.

“Yes…” Alucard follows obediently, bending down to unlace his own boots and feeling suddenly self-conscious about the amount of water he’s dripping onto the handwoven rug beneath him.

“What were you doing out in that storm?”

“I guess I got…lost in my thoughts.”

“Weird.”

Alucard looks up suddenly at her as she hangs her coat on one of about a dozen hooks lined up on the wall, and his eyes flash wide for a quick moment, then he looks back at the floor, freezing water droplets trailing from his hair down the angles of his face. It can’t be. After centuries, he’d given up on all those foolish notions about reincarnation. About souls being reborn. She was gone. They were all gone. And he was, once again, alone.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to berate you. It’s just…well, most people around here don’t go out for a stroll to ponder the mysteries of the universe in the middle of a Nor’easter.” She extends her hand. “I’m Gerda, by the way.”

“Gerda…” he whispers, shaking his head with a little laugh as another drop of water falls from the tip of his nose. “Of course.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s a lovely name.”

“Yeah? Well, are you going to give me yours, or…?”

He takes her hand, shaking it tentatively, as if touching her might somehow break this illusion. Or break him. “Adrian.”

“Hi, Adrian.”

“Hello…” He finally looks up at her face again. And those familiar warm brown eyes greet him. And he knows it’s over for him. Any attempt he could’ve made to distance himself or caution himself against believing it’s her will be pointless now. What an absolute disaster. “Gerda.”

“Look, it’s a family name, okay? My grandmother came over from Poland after World War II, and…”

“I’m not making fun of it.”

“Well a lot of people do, so…”

“I’m not,” he says. “It just…reminded me of someone.”

“You know another Gerda? Some old vaguely ‘Eastern-European’ woman or something?”

“You could say that.”

“You don’t like giving very straightforward answers, do you?”

“You plucked me out of a storm in the middle of the night. What exactly did you expect?”

“Yes. Well…” she clears her throat. “I suppose you looked a bit helpless.”

Alucard grimaces at that. Does he really appear so pathetic? He thought he was doing a pretty good job of blending in with the other students in the strange university town. Oh, but that’s it, isn’t it? They all do look fairly helpless. Gerda is different in that respect. Gerda seems entirely too-capable, even if she appears to be around the same age as the other grad students. Which only makes the resemblance harder to ignore.

“Let me guess…you’re studying philosophy at the university. Grad student? Mid-way through? Trying to figure out if you want to quit and join the peace corps or try to go the route of tortured professor? Woe is you – stuck with the impossible choice between getting your hands dirty saving mankind and padding your resume for future law school applications or choosing academia and the pursuit of truth?”

“Med school, probably…” Alucard shrugs. “It’s what my mother would have wanted.”

“Oh…?”

“But she’s dead.”

“Oh. Oh shit…” Gerda looks suddenly a lot less smug about her assessment of him. “I’m sorry…”

And lastly this part, inspired a little bit by day 3 ‘Meet the parents,’ and, IDK…the fact that anyone who hasn’t seen Mad Max: Fury Road had better have been asleep in an immortal slumber or they are obviously Bad News™ to date in the year 2021.

He tilts his head to look down at her just as Furiosa rips Immortan Joe’s face off. “I have to tell you something.”

“Oh! Confession time for both of us, then! Let me guess…you’re not actually going to med school?” Gerda smiles as she nuzzles against his shoulder. The part where Nux sacrifices himself so the girls can get away always makes her a little weepy. “Damn…there goes my whole plan to marry a doctor and continue living the easy life.”

“No. I’m – there’s no easy way to say this – but I’m…I’m nearly 600 years old.”

Gerda doesn’t move. She just sits there with her head on his shoulder, staring straight ahead of her, through the TV screen, hoping she misheard him over the grunts and screams and explosions. She should’ve realized him claiming never to have seen this movie was a red flag.

“Gerda?”

“Huh?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hope not correctly, but…”

“I’m immortal. Only half-human.”

“Oh, okay. That totally makes what I thought you just said make more sense, then.”

“Really?”

“Fuck no!”

“My father was known by many as the Lord of Darkness, but…”

“And your mother? The Queen of the Damned?”

“I’m not joking.”

“Then you’re just crazy…? Or…ohhhhh!” She laughs. “You think I am!”

“No. I truly am the son of Vlad Dracula Tepes and Lisa Tepes.”

“That’s a story, Adrian.” Gerda sighs, eyeing the screen mournfully and reaching for the remote in resignation. “An entire genre of fiction, even. We had to analyze all the various iterations of it in AP Lit in high school. And if you must know, I’m much more into werewolves than vampires…so this isn’t going to get you into bed with me.”

“Yes. It’s a story based on some truth. As most of them are. Which is another thing I’m sure you learned.” He smirks. “And really…? Werewolves?”

Gerda finally sits up and turns to look at him, a pout on her lips, attempting to hide the genuine disappointment in her eyes. “I really liked you,” she whines.

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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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Day 7, Prompt 7 - The Heart Will Go On

For day 7, prompt 7 (last day 💔) of @gretacardweek , a throwback to my Titanic AU for the loving pair. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34992916

Adrian could still feel the ice water prickling at his skin, and it would get worse when the night came. The nightmares still plagued them both, hands still reaching out to the other just to feel if the other was still there. This particular night was one that proved troublesome for Greta. Her pleading whines and cries still said the names of those who she tried to save, Marius’s name being repeated in between.

Alucard reached over to her thrashing form, trying to calm her down. “Greta! Greta, please! It’s me, it’s just me. You’re not there anymore…you’re not there. It’s just here, with me.” Greta could still feel the ice cold water prickling her skin, like a million knives that came upon her body all at once. The deathly cold grips of the water, the pain from the splinters as she gripped onto the board, and her dear friend.

The one she loved as her own family, her own brother, Marius Gharbi. The ice and cold that sunk its claws into him as he held her to the board, giving his own to let her go on and live hers. Her wet eyes and protesting hands were met with the caring ones of her husband who tried to calm her down. Frantically, she opened her eyes, chest heaving with deep breaths and forehead beaded with sweat.

Adrian knew that these dreams still plagued her, and though he couldn’t help her fight them off as much as he wanted to, he would try his damnedest. It pained him to see her like this but all he could do in this moment was try and hold her. Brushing her hair through his fingers, Alucard held her close, trying to offer whatever meek words of encouragement he could offer.

Greta’s breathing began to even out, eyes slowly opening to the arms of her husband that gently engulfed her. Realizing what had happened again, Greta’s shoulders gently shook with her soft sobs. Just when she thought that the past was behind them, its ugly head reared up from time to time.

Compelled to speak, Greta tried to manage words past her choked throat. “Is it wrong for us? To keep on living, when we’re here….but the rest of them…all of them. And Marius too.” What could one say to that? His wife’s words weighed heavy on his heart as he sought to comfort her. Holding her close, hands cupping her face, Adrian peered gently into Greta’s golden ones before he spoke.

“I cannot speak for them all, especially the ones who we’ve lost…but I do know this. I know that they cared and loved for the ones they had back home. Marius too.” Greta clenched her eyes shut and collapsed into her husband’s form. Adrian held her close, his face buried within her hair as his own tears fell onto her locks.

“He did not make his sacrifice in vain, and I miss him terribly as much as you do, I do know this….he wanted you to live your life. He wanted you to live a long life, and to be happy in it because it’s what’s you deserve.”

Her soft tears fell gently against his sleeping clothes, shoulders shaking as her sobs filled their bedroom. It was still months since that dreadful night, but it seemed that the point of getting better in life was a mile away. At least both man and woman who found each other on that voyage could endure together.

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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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@gretacardweek Day 7: We’ll live eternally

the first of my gretacard week pieces and it’s the last one I rewatched Van Helsing recently and this scene got stuck in my head so here’s vampire!greta and sad!alucard

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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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Originally wrote this for the Gretacard Week (@gretacardweek) day 1 prompt ‘Asking your Permission’ but uh, I missed that (I’m still finishing up my second Strigana week offering…d’oh!). Have it, anyway! Some shameless Gretacard smut (Alucard is working through a bit of season 3 trauma, as one does, by asking his amazing girlfriend to tie him up)…

Warnings: NSFW, past (unmentioned here) trauma, light bondage

“Permission to ravage you, my love?”

“Granted,” he huffs, lifting his hips to chase the friction of her body as she hoists herself up and off of him, sliding down to her knees at the foot of the bed.

Keep reading

#Day 1 #Asking your permission

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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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Day 6, Prompt 6 - Young Gods

For day 6, prompt 6 of @gretacardweek , an alternate universe with humans and the supernatural and fantasy, and a love story at the center of it all. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34959796

From an early age, Alucard knew that he was different. The son of an immortal being cursed by an eldritch demon, but also son to a healer as well. Rather than staying hidden in the shadows, he and his family were their own people though it was a lonely life. All other beings, mortal or immortal, knew of him and his lineage.

Kings, queens, leaders, the Church, even other beings with magick in their blood, kept a wide berth to the Tepes family, lest they wanted to face the wrath of the one closest with Death himself. It was a lonely life for Alucard, one stricken with fear and hesitancy wherever he went on his travels.

It was always the same looks on other’s faces, filled with doubt or ready to launch in any attack if he were to ever blatantly show his differences. Traveling appeased his mind for a while, and there were those in his mother’s clinic who were at least cordial to him, but it still felt lonely. A coldness that just seemed to linger around him, repealing away any warm gesture or at least an attempt at one.

He didn’t blame the others who he came across, not his parents, and not himself. It was just how things seemed to be, though it was a harsh reality Adrian did not want to accept completely. It left him wandering, yearning, always searching for more, and it led him to a certain wood.

Little did he know that there was one who was equal in every way and more. Greta, of the Highborn Good People, the eldest and most distinguished bloodline of the Fae. Hailing from the Mavka, and a patroness of the local Danesti village where she and her distant kinsmen resided. The eldest and next in line to the throne, she was the strongest magicks wielder of her people, and she always felt most in her element within the heart of the woods.

One particular afternoon had her mind wandering, leading her to the woods. She was always the strongest in her natural element, more so than the one she called brother, Marius. A particularly chilled evening kept her focused on her meditations for the remainder of the day, eyes slowly drifting as she felt the sleep overtake her. The snow fell gracefully not long after slumber claimed her, a testament to what Great could wield even in her tranquility.

It was not long until Alucard came across her path during his trek in the wood. He didn’t know what it was, call it concern or just the natural pull of fate that was meant to tie them together, but it felt out of body as he curiously made his way over. The closer he got, the more of Greta’s likeness stood out to him: a calm, beautiful woman completely in her element who held all the power and more than she ever realized.

He knelt down beside her, still caught in whatever admiration was budding within him. Greta sensed another here beside her, and her eyes opened to the sight of the blonde-haired man beside her. She didn’t know what force compelled her to him.

Maybe it was the magic her ancestors preached of, or maybe it those from old tales she heard, but she felt drawn to him. For what reasons neither knew just yet, but they had centuries of life and the gift of immortality to find that out on the journey together.

#Day 6 #Mythology/Fairytale AU

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gretacardweek · 4 years ago

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What I would do

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix series)

Characters: Greta of Danesti, Alucard, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades

Relationship: Greta of Danesti/Alucard

Rating: Teens and Up

Tags: Pregnancy, Domestic, Fluff, Protectiveness, Parenthood, Post-Castlevania, Alternate Universe, Oneshot

Summary: A short bit with domestic fluff, featuring overprotective first time parent jitters, dhampir style. Post-Castlevania series. AU.

Link: AO3

Written for @gretacardweek Day 6, prompt: Nothing fucks with my baby

Greta sighed, raising her head up to the skies, steeling herself to keep her temper from spilling over the rim of her patience. Here she stood after a full day of meetings in stuffy rooms and the onset of autumn had brought more complaints than usual, with voices rising to outshine other voices and egos biting at each other. Usually, she handled it, and did it well. Friends at first and then her betters had praised her way with words and skills of mediation along the years, knowing how difficult it was when not all matters were straightforward and finding solutions became an upward struggle; to her dismay, now proved such a time.

Now, her patience was worn thin as a blade of grass and something hard pressed on her temples like steel hammers, giving the worrying sensation that her head might explode any second.

“As I was saying…” the gruff voice continued, pouring like sludge over the rising spine of her annoyance.

She wanted to scream but reined in her temper, placing a palm to her belly as if to anchor herself. She looked the villager in the face. “Listen, Remus, I told you, the plans and layouts are set and agreed upon. You can’t build your hut so far away with all the stray creatures still roaming the area. It puts you and others at risk in the case of an attack and you’ve seen what they’re capable of. Remember the road we took through the forest?”

Remus crossed his arms, and the lines of middle age on his face deepened as he frowned. “Of course I remember.”

“Further,” she added, “you’ve already agreed to our proposed plan at the last council meeting. Why didn’t you speak up then?”

“I did speak up, and was overruled! This is nonsense Greta, in Danesti I lived well away from you all; and survived far longer than some,” the man complained, looking her squarely in the eyes.

He still blamed her for Marius’ death, that was no secret. Her forehead was beaded with sweat from another heat flare, and her clothes itched on her back. The reminder stung, as it did each time she passed the cemetery hill, content and happy and a mother-to-be, while her childhood friend turned to dust; because she’d sent him out there. True, he knew the peril lurking ahead all too well and insisted upon riding out for their benefit, but...

The baby was kicking again, shaking her back to the present. “The answer is No, Remus. This is no longer Danesti. We want to do better, and you’ll see we will, in time. We have everything at our disposal to make it come true, here. What you’re asking for is a selfish choice—“

Remus scoffed. “You should speak of selfish—“

She ignored the jab. “... and puts you and your herds at high risk, hence your business, too. You should be able to see that, as the elder you claim yourself to be.”

That, of course, didn’t help, and Remus went on a tirade of how things used to be different before they came here, in the shadow of a castle cursed by their dead, how her father had led them and always minded his elders just as she should be doing now; expressing doubts over the new village layout Alucard and Sypha had suggested — no disrespect, but why would they listen to one who’s lived a wealthy noble’s life and a Speaker who spent most of hers on the road…

Greta rubbed vigorously at her temples, and suddenly she felt too cold and her loose tunic was too tight at the collar, like weak hands slowly choking her. “If you were to abide there, I can't risk the lives that would take to protect you. If you choose to do it, you have that freedom but you'd be out of our jurisdiction. The answer is No, Remus."

“But—”

“The answer is No.”

Greta started, turning at the familiar voice: low, patient, but frosty as a winter's night.

A warm grip pressed into her shoulder and she looked at Alucard, standing at her side. His hair was tied back from his face in a messy bun, with a strip of cloth that looked borrowed from one of the women, brightly colored with floral motifs. His shirt was sullied from the day's work, the sleeves rolled up revealing forearms streaked with strong, wiry veins. His face was serene, but by this time she knew the minor inflections in his tone and what they meant; now, it was annoyance and something else, indefinable but substantial in presence. Greta stared at him, eyebrows raised, but Alucard seemed very intent on Remus at that moment.

The villager measured Alucard with a probing gaze, and tired defeat flitted behind his eyes. “I want to revisit this. I don’t need your men.” He looked back at Greta and sighed. “You’re better than your father in this station, but you also have to listen to us and our needs at times!”

Greta took a deep breath. “We did, as I said. At the last gathering—“

“I’m afraid this will have to wait, Remus,” Alucard’s grasp twitched on her shoulder, and he turned the woman gently to face him, “we’re having supper with Trevor and Sypha, remember?”

Greta breathed through her nose. She’d forgotten, of course. Damn. “We are." She sighed at his bright, knowing smile, and her face heated at being found out. She rallied and smirked back, then glanced at the disgruntled man, “Come by tomorrow evening, Remus.”

The man looked between them, unappeased but apparently finally weary of arguing further. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll be there.” He greeted them with a wordless nod and rushed away, muttering to himself about the strange times he lived in.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Greta shook her head, turning to a silent Alucard who was staring after Remus with an eerie gleam in his gaze. "Adrian?" She placed a palm to his chest, surprised at the hardness and tension beneath her palm reminding her of moments they held the castle doors fast against an invading onslaught of enemies.

Alucard finally glanced at her, and her gaze roamed over his face. There were smears of dirt on his cheek and chin. He’d been helping with construction efforts this week, but beneath all the grime and dust was still the most beautiful being Greta had ever known on this side of the world. But the words that left her mouth were, “I speak to my people, Adrian. And I was doing just fine.” She bit her lip. Too harsh. And a lie.

Alucard watched her for a long moment, and the stiffness melted from him as he brought Greta closer; her baby bump pressed lightly against him. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking like he meant it. His gaze dropped between them, “I only sensed your fretting — both of your —” he faltered, then glanced up at her again, uncertain and rather penitent. “Her heartbeat sped up.” From the moment he felt the flutters of life and movement beneath his palm, Alucard maintained with unflinching surety that it was a girl.

But this was new. “How do you mean you sensed?”

“I can hear you, both of you,” Alucard said. “Your distress, your agitation,” he carded fingers through her hair, tipped her chin up, teeth worrying at his lip. “The work never stops, does it?”

Concern drove his words, nothing else. There was an understanding between them from the very beginning. Alucard respected her leadership, she respected his knowledge. They both knew that out of the four of them, Greta succeeded to keep everyone aligned to a cohesive goal. Alucard aided in the realm of her duties, often coming with new, useful perspectives; it was one of many reasons that made him so easy to work with. But now he looked worried, and there was a plea in his eyes. “I should let you help more. I get it. And maybe you’re right,” she smiled, his touch soothing her and the baby as it always did, the pressure of his fingers just right as they kneaded into her.

They both turned towards the castle, and with Alucard's arm around her shoulders, they headed for the bath house, leaning into one another. There, they undressed each other with practiced ease and again she felt his touch, always tender and careful but even that was different now, as though one careless slip of his slender hands could harm or unmake something invaluable. Moments like these became a haven, leaning naked with her back to him in the lukewarm water, soft and sleepy and sheltered by the heat of his skin while Alucard washed her hair, pressing the occasional kiss to her neck and shoulders. “Where are we seeing Sypha and dear Treff?” Greta asked.

“The first level parlor today,” he said, hands slippery with soap pausing with care over her tender breasts, and she wanted to lounge like a lazy cat in his arms and let him touch her like this forever.

Greta smiled at the dream, one she never dared imagine only two years ago. His thumb teased a nipple, forcing her to swallow an aroused whimper. Even with all the changes, her body always reacted to him. “We... should get going then,” she turned her head and met the brush of warm lips, savoring the pleasant heat and pressure, feeling his restraint as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth with more fervor than she expected, his hands splayed protectively over her bump. Again, there was a restlessness she perceived, so tangible she felt it in the weave of her heart, reminding her of wolf mothers pacing around their cubs. Might be worth breaching the topic with him later, if only to know she wasn’t going insane imagining things.

She sensed it again as they were lounging together with Sypha and Trevor, reclining on couches around a sleek table with drinks and pastries courtesy of a secret recipe learned from Sypha’s late grandmother.

“Syph, I kid you not, these honey cakes are the best I've tasted! Don't tell old Lia though," Greta spoke around one mouthful, delighted and earning herself a gratified, tired little smile from Sypha. She cuddled into Alucard who had snuggled close, so close they were hugging their growing child between them. His arm was around her shoulders, his nose pressed into her neck, eyes closed like no one was watching. Greta caught Trevor’s gaze and saw a smirk, but also understanding in his fierce grey eyes as the Belmont glanced back at Simon, resuming the valiant quest of convincing the little one to eat his fruit purée.

Sypha gestured with her tea cup before taking a sip. "Thank you! Trevor took Simon so I had my two hands back. Finally, someone who appreciates my efforts!” she tooted primly.

“So in a way, I made the cakes, Gretel," Trevor winked.

"Stop calling me that," Greta giggled, the strain of the day gone from her face as she threw a small pillow at his head.

"Stop calling me Treff," Trevor evaded the projectile.

Greta took another honey cake and sat back, her gaze soft, enjoying the mood changing effect of their ridiculous antics. "But it suits you," she offered with a sly smile.

Alucard snickered into her neck, his shoulders shaking in laughter. He huddled to her with lazy grace, turning his face to smile at little Simon. “You’ll get used to them,” he whispered, and the child flailed his arms in glee, then plunged a tiny fist into his mouth.

"Now listen here, Fangs," Trevor quirked an eyebrow, and laughter burst among them as a spoonful of yellow-brown purée was catapulted onto his cheek, before taking a sorry slide down his jaw and neck.

“You helped me make the sweets Trevor, it's all right, you’re loved!” Sypha retorted when her laughter bubbled down, and Trevor was cleaning himself and the mashed fruit from Simon’s face and hands.

“All right, all right, keep at it,” Trevor groused amid their joy, looking pointedly at Alucard, though his eyes were lit in mirth at his son’s shenanigans. He gestured dramatically at Simon reaching for the contents of his bowl again. “Behold, thy future.”

Alucard merely gave them a furtive, absent smile, which everyone caught but no one commented on, appearing no less distracted than before. His hand was on Greta's belly, and by now she had a good idea of his state; she felt it in the way they both needed to be close to each other most of the time. It was a gradual change, a peculiar feeling, like wearing each other's worries wrapped around their hearts ever since they brought another life into this plane of reality. Safety was the first priority, always paramount when it concerned her people. Now the two of them had a new, wonderful reason to covet it on a deeply personal level. The last thought faded as she tucked herself even more into Alucard, who was set on making faces at Simon. For some reason, the boy felt a deep connection with his fangs, always eager to touch them, and now the newest scion of the House of Belmont snorted and mumbled sounds that dribbled with spittle which his father struggled to wipe away.

The lamps burned orange as the evening deepened, a spill of timid light over coveted moments of peace. For Greta, in the recent months especially, time sped up, rushing past her at break-neck speed sometimes, and there were days when life was like treading in a gauzy dream with no defined direction in sight. It rarely lasted long, however; Alucard was a constant to her life, as she was to him, the immovable object to the force of those unstoppable fears that can bend and destroy. When her hold tightened on him in thankfulness, his body tensed into her softer one, and Alucard looked at her with a question in his eyes she often saw lately. Is everything all right?

She nodded with her most reassuring smile, one he kissed away that night as they melded, naked and slick, and Alucard cupped her body with his, a hand moving from her breast to tilt her chin to him. Greta eased into it all, her desire as consuming as it was unpredictable lately, her mouth ravenous in contrast to the tender way he moved. She clutched at the back of his head, and deepened the kiss while they lay sated and wrapped in each other among ruffled sheets, spent and content for the first time that day. Alucard hugged and folded her into him, chest rising and falling against her in soft pants. “Mine…” he whispered, nibbling on her ear, his hand on her baby bump.

Greta closed her eyes, her smile shining with afterglow. He'd said the word lightly, playfully even, but again there was that same unrest. Should she ask? But even as she thought of how to word her question, Alucard hid his face in her hair and mumbled, “I don’t... know why I’m like this.”

The confession was smothered, but the suddenness of it drew Greta from her mind. “... like what?”

“Earlier today. I have to tell you,” Alucard followed, ”I don’t want to trouble you, please understand, but I want you to know.”

Greta reached for his long fingers, weaving them with hers. “Remember the time when you told me all about the people who hurt you so deeply, barely days into us knowing each other?”

He huffed a smooth wolfish purr. “I feared I’d scared you away with that; dreaded it," Alucard said.

“... Who knew it had the opposite effect?” She was hugged tighter. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Today, with Remus,” his voice wavered, and when he spoke again, it was laced with uncertainty, and there came a sudden kick in her womb as though their child felt it too.

“Nothing showed— I hope — but I was…” Alucard sighed. “I was close to…Greta, I wanted to hurt him.”

Greta cuddled closer against him, biting on her lip not to smile; she would not belittle his worries. “You would not.”

“I would,” Alucard insisted drowsily. “That's what frightens me. My rational mind knows Remus was only… well, being Remus. But the sight of you so tired, in such discomfort, and him bearing down on you like that, set something burning in me with such violence I could barely see straight on my way to you. I have these… thoughts."

"It's perfectly normal to worry about your family, isn't it?" Greta soothed, her hand pressed over his own. “Remember Trevor’s failing nerves in the later stages of Sypha’s pregnancy?”

"I don’t know what I would do...” Alucard whispered into her hair, his words slurred as sleep stole at his voice, “if anything happened to you…”

“Nothing will happen to either of us,” Greta said, her fingers caressing up his forearm, her eyelids fluttering as a heavy torpor took over.

“No," he said. "I know… I only…”

“I know,” Greta smiled. “Rest with me, stranger,” she cooed, using the nickname she teased him with in the early days, when they were still trying to understand the other beyond words and furtive glances.

Alucard hummed, his face hidden in the crook of her neck, his voice softer as he said, “I would kill for her.”

Greta brought his hand to her mouth; kissed his palm, then the fingers that knew her every weakness. “So would I,” she admitted.

Another soft, wolven chuckle. “Perhaps…” Alucard breathed between her shoulder blades, softening against her. His voice faded to frayed ribbons of silk, until she barely heard, near indiscernibly, "... more like my father than I thought…"

“Adrian, beloved...” Greta soothed, and her last waking thought was of him and the sound of his heartbeat hopping over the eager, smaller one hidden in her bump.

Sleep fell over her like a warm dusty mantle, and she dreamt of them, together, standing barefoot on the glittering white shores of an endless blue sea from her youthful imaginings. They sheltered a tiny girl between them, and a breeze tore at her rich curls as she built them a sandcastle, creating a home with her soft hands; her laughter sparkled across the sunny waves when they washed her work away. Their happiness was genuine, such as Greta had never known in all her life, like floating in the infinity of her dream that now mirrored azure skies and the tranquility of soft cotton clouds. And Alucard was there, rested and free of worries; kissing away her tearful joy as clear, sunlit waters lapped slowly at their ankles.

#Day 6 #Nothing fucks with my baby

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