#AND ALUCARDS VOICE AND HIS SOUNDS OF EXERTION

[foxstens]

aria of sorrow is......... fine

[n0rdic-kn1ght]

“Damn That Impudent Dhampir” - An Alucard Tepes X OC Fanfiction (Part 6)

This was it. We had finally made it. Before I knew it, the four of us were at Dracula’s doorstep. All of us silently and slowly pushed open the huge, heavy doors. Inside, Dracula’s court of vampires, and a foreign army were already going at it. However, as soon as we entered, they ceased their fighting. They all turned their heads to look at us, as if we crashed a party, or something. I felt my body quivering slightly. Despite my will and determination to end Dracula once and for all, with my new companions, I was scared out of my wits. I kept my composure, though, and I found that deep in my heart, I still had hope for us.

“Shall we dance?”, I spoke up, breaking the silence.

A little smirk crept across my face, curving up the corners of my small, yet pouty lips.

Sypha, Trevor, and Alucard all seemed to nod in unison. With that, the battle took off…

I summoned my enchanted bow and arrows with a quick wave of my arm, Trevor grabbed hold of the Morningstar whip resting at his hip, Alucard’s sword unsheathed, and Sypha readied her magic. The enemies before us immediately seemed to forget that they were against one another, and they both went straight for us. With a gasp, I quickly fired three arrows at once, laced with a magical, potent toxin. The arrows hit three of the foreign soldiers. I flew up to keep myself off the ground, and began to fire even more arrows. With every hit, there was a kill, and I felt victorious. I watched as Sypha’s flames and ice danced around the enemies, in a vicious yet beautiful waltz. My ears pricked at the sound of metal on metal, and I glanced over to see Alucard sparring with one of Dracula’s. The opposing vampire was much bigger than Alucard, but he pressed on, eventually stabbing his colossal opponent. I smiled at this. Explosions flew and shook the whole castle, every single time Trevor cast his whip at a vampire, thus tearing it apart.

“We’re doing it… we’re really doing it!”, I shrieked, starting to laugh maniacally at our victories.

However, I spoke too soon. I suddenly felt that even from my high place, I was being watched. I glanced around, and then I looked up. Hiding on the ceiling, was yet another vampire. I let out a small cry of fear, and before I knew it, they leapt on top of me, wrestling me mid-air. They pulled out a dagger, aiming to stab my heart. With all my might, I pushed their arm away, keeping it as far from me as possible. Even though they pushed right back. My own physical strength was growing weak as I wrestled the vampire, and I found myself whimpering very softly with exertion. My hand then slipped off of theirs, my palms now sweaty. I screamed as their dagger was suddenly flying straight for my heart. I closed my eyes, almost certain I would meet death.

Then, when I didn’t feel a thing, I opened them. The vampire was frozen in place. I looked down, and saw Sypha. I gratefully smiled at her, and then wedged my arm out of the large ice cube she had frozen onto the vampire, and I landed back on the castle floor.

“Thanks…”, I said to her.

“Anytime”, she replied, with a smile.

I looked around with my three companions, staring at all the dead vampires surrounding us. The air was filled with the sickeningly sweet tang of blood, and spilled entrails. However, we were doing quite well. Despite the four of us being a tad bit scratched up, some fabric on our bodies torn, we were okay. We all gave each other meaningful glances, and then we began to hurry up the stairs, to where Dracula would be.

We stopped at Dracula’s wide open door to his study. His fireplace crackled and hissed before him, and I could see that he sat in his chair before the fire, in a rather expectant pose. A low chuckle erupted from him, his bassy voice resonating throughout my entire being. While I didn’t agree with his plans for genocide, he was indeed a very terrifying man. I decided I wouldn’t show my terror, though. Alucard took a step forward.

“Father…”, he said, his voice reproachful.

“Son…”, Dracula answered, dryly, before slowly getting up from his regal chair.

He swaggered over to us, now only a few feet away from us. He was seriously tall. Taller than I’d ever expected him to be. My breath caught in my throat, and I swallowed hard. My heart began to hammer in my chest. I was now afraid that I may not make it out of here alive. I bit my lip, glancing from the floor to Alucard. I had to stay here. I couldn’t bail! Despite the fact that he didn’t remember me from our childhood, I would do whatever I could to help him. I still cared. I still wanted him to know I cared. I still—

“Your reign of terror, and unnecessary bloodshed ends now”, Alucard’s voice broke my thoughts.

Dracula chuckled again, and his eyes seemed to turn a dark, bloodshot crimson. The sight of such a primal rage in him nearly sent my blood running backwards. I very subtly took a step back.

“You couldn’t defeat me then… what makes you think bringing a few ‘buddies’ along will make your chances higher?”, he questioned his son, with a smug smirk on his face, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes screwing up even more.

“Come and find out”, Alucard remarked, threateningly.

Upon Alucard’s threatening comment, Dracula frowned and immediately leapt for Alucard. He swiftly moved out of the way with his extreme speed, and sliced his father’s arm with his sword. I then flew up into the air as I did on the first floor of the castle, and I summoned my bow and arrows. I shot three of them at Dracula. One pierced his right side, the second hit his right arm, while the third landed in the side of his neck. He angrily yanked them out, and glared at me. He seemed like he was about to attempt to get me from my high place, when Trevor punched him hard in the face. This deflected his attention from me, and the old vampire turned towards Trevor. He laughed, and shook his head.

“You must be the Belmont…”, he commented, snidely.

“Don’t wear it out…”, Trevor answered, nonchalantly.

Trevor proceeded to cast his whip towards Dracula. It soared through the air, momentarily, before crashing down into Dracula. A huge explosion erupted in the middle of the hall. I coughed on the smoke, and waited for it to clear. We all stood around, wondering if Trevor actually got him. However, through the thick smoke, I could see Dracula getting to his feet once more, looking even more enraged.

“Stupid Belmont…”, he commented, lunging for Trevor.

“Do not touch him!”, Sypha cried out, readying a huge flame to ignite Dracula.

She was about to cast it, when the old vampire lunged at her with insane speed. He crashed into her, sending her flying against the wall. She was now unconscious.

“Sypha!”, Trevor yelled for her, as he rushed towards her.

Seeing Sypha unconscious sent me into a deeper anger than I had before, and made me feel a deeper fear for all of us. I put my arms out, and with a quiet groan of exertion, vines full of thorns shot out from my palms, heading straight for Dracula. They tangled around him, tying him up. He thrashed, and growled angrily as I held him there. I closed my eyes tightly, using up nearly all the energy I had to keep such a large opponent at bay. The thorns pierced the old man’s skin, scratching up his cheeks, his eyes, cutting through his sleeves, and slicing his neck. Alucard sent his longsword flying towards his father, nearly staking him in the heart with it. Ultimately, Dracula was even too strong for both of us at once. Using what seemed like some kind of telekinetic power, Dracula sent Alucard’s sword flying right back at him, causing Alucard to let out a fearful gasp. Luckily, he jumped out of the way in time. With a wroth cry, Dracula broke free from my thorn-covered vines. He hurled himself at Alucard, crashing through many castle walls. I blinked, dumbfounded by the sight of this.

“Lorena, I’m staying here with Sypha!”, Trevor said to me, getting my attention. “Go! Alucard needs you!”

I looked over at him, and nodded, my eyes just wide with pure fear. I began to soar away, my wings fluttering as fast as they could. I flew through the walls they had crashed through, not seeing them at first. I eventually came upon a strange room. It was such an innocent looking room. I stood in the doorway, glancing around at the decor. There was a basket of toys in the left corner, near a desk full of drawings and different writing utensils. I looked to the right. A small dresser, a small table, and then a beautiful portrait of Dracula and… Alucard’s mother, I realized with a start. I blinked, dumbfounded. This was Alucard’s childhood bedroom. As my eyes scanned the room, I could feel memories upon memories made in this room seeping into my skin, and images of happiness flew past my eyes. With a start, I realized that I could see into these memories. I had never realized I could do that before. Perhaps this journey wasn’t all about murder… It also helped me find a piece of myself I didn’t even realize I had, magic-wise. Being used to my Earth, nature, and enchantment powers, I didn’t realize I had seer-like powers. I nearly forgot what I was standing in this room for, when Dracula and Alucard came crashing into this room, as well. I let out a cry, and I immediately drew my bow and arrows once more, and I shot one at Dracula. He winced, and then angrily stared at me, but only briefly. He let out a gasp, and his expression instantly softened. Alucard froze before his father, looking unsure and terrified all at once. I took a step back, nearly bumping into the dresser behind me.

“It’s… your home”, Dracula whispered, gasping softly. “Your childhood bedroom.”

Dracula glanced around, his eyes fading back to their normal color. His whole demeanor switched, just like that. His shoulders drooped, bowing with the weight of his sudden sorrow. He turned his head slowly, and looked at the portrait on the wall. He walked towards it, tears welling up in his eyes. He looked even more old and worn out than I’d seen, tonight.

“Oh, Lisa… What am I doing? I’m… I’m killing our boy… your greatest gift to me, and I’m killing him”, he spoke, his voice shaky and cracking with sorrow. “I must already be dead.”

He began to sob ever so quietly, and he reached a hand up to stroke Lisa’s face in the portrait. He slowly turned back around, and faced Alucard.

“Kill me…”, he suddenly said.

Alucard’s eyes widened, and he stammered.

“I… Father…?”

“Do it!”, Dracula demanded, through a hard sob.

I took a step back, cowering slightly in the corner of the bedroom, but I continued to watch the scene before me.

Within seconds, Alucard plunged his sword into his father’s heart. Blood gushed out of Dracula’s chest where he was impaled, and also out of his mouth. He choked, and sobbed until he eventually fell to his knees. His color began to turn a deep grey, and his eyes darkened to just holes in his skull. In his final moments, he reached for Alucard, but then disintegrated and wisped away right before us, into nothingness. His cloak was the only thing left behind. Slowly, Alucard regained his composure, and picked up his father’s cloak. I walked towards Alucard, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head around to look at me, and I winced at his sharp gaze. He looked like he was about to seriously reprimand me. Then, he just shook my hand off his shoulder, and dropped his father’s cloak. He walked to the big, circular window in the bedroom. He stared up at the starry night sky. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as I approached him once more.

“Alucard…?”, I softly said his name.

“Don’t”, he just said, curtly. “You needn’t worry about me. You… you’ve done enough for me, pixie.”

I blinked, surprised yet grateful that for once, he was appreciative of me. I felt a little glimmer of hope for us in my heart. I just nodded at his words. Suddenly, we heard footsteps rushing towards the room. Trevor and Sypha eventually came into view.

“Bring it!”, Trevor cried out, Sypha looking equally as menacing, at his side.

“Hm? Oh…”, Sypha said, realizing that Dracula was already dead.

Alucard and I exchanged a glance, and then looked back at our two friends. I shrugged, and we began to walk out of the old bedroom, all of us feeling victorious, yet ever so slightly empty. I, Lorena Van Lovlin, had gotten my revenge… However, I didn’t feel completely happy. I needed my Alucard back. I needed to make him remember me, once more.

[ddarker-dreams]

A Still Beating Heart. Yan Alucard x Reader [COMM]

warnings: isolation and mentions of blood word count: 2k

To free yourself from the clutches of your room means to explore this archaic mansion, in search of some form of solace. 

The hallways are long-winding, foreboding. Drawn curtains block out sunlight’s kiss, leaving naught but sinister shadows at the end of each hall, indecipherable to the naked eye. Wood in colors consisting of rich hickory are present at every turn, impeccably clean and detailed in their carvings. Atop antique sideboards sit various trinkets, surely a finding any archaeologist would die to examine. You’ve been told that what’s his is yours, to help yourself to any treasures that capture your eye. What use are the finest, exotic luxuries from centuries past in a prison like this? 

Candlelight guides you on your way, though you worry it’s damaging your eyesight. Squinting has become far too common for your liking, to make out where it is you’re going is a challenge when natural light is forbidden. Old floorboards creak underneath your tentative steps, leading you to inhale sharply. Does it even matter if you make a noise that could possibly alert him? Even now, your gut warns that there is another set of eyes set upon your figure. Watching as you weave in and out of rooms in search of entertainment, internally snuffing out sinister intentions that you draw out like water from a well. 

The fear of being watched, studied like an animal in a cage while remaining none the wiser to the horrors in the walls has faded with time. Birthed from a primitive drive centered around preservation of the self, to keep your sanity in a delicate balance. Every flicker of candlelight, that cast shadows upon its surroundings, used to frighten you. To the point any sign of movement, any sound without an immediately identifiable source, would render you inconsolable. Now, you choose to pay it little mind, having grown acquainted with the unknown. 

Your destination has been reached, lithe fingers wrapped around the silver candlestick placing it down on a nearby wooden console. The door is unlocked, opening easily at your prompting, candlestick back in hand to illuminate the seemingly unending maze of bookshelves. A sigh of relief makes its way past your lips, grateful for the reprieve before you. Entertainment is sparse, reading one of the few reliable sources of passing the time. How thoughtful of him to grant this sparse freedom, bitterness growing inside you like a thorn covered vine. 

Fingertips brush over the spines of numerous books, and you closely examine the detailings of each one. The languages you can recognize are few and far between, from Romanian to Turkish. Reading in a language you can’t understand will do you no good, so you settle upon one of the few English titles. The Castle of Otranto, a seemingly fitting read for the macabre atmosphere that surrounds. Making yourself comfortable on a nearby love seat, you once again place the candlestick down and open the book on your lap. The sensation of hardened paper against your skin brings with it, among other things, familiarity. Black ink captures you, sending you into a world far away from here. Some realities are too good to be true, and your little escape is spoiled before it ever truly begins.

“I never seem capable of guessing which one you will pick.” 

A natural reaction to a new sound, your head lifts in search of identifying the direction it reverberates from. The deep, rumbling voice has no single point of origin, instead encompassing you from every corner of the library. How many times has Alucard played this game with you, and how many times will you allow him to? It’s not entirely possible for you to control every aspect of human biology, you’re incapable of stopping how your pupils dilate and the goosebumps that dot your skin. He goes beyond any understanding, transcending into the throes of unnatural. An uncanny valley, where you can almost place your finger on it, but it remains far too murky to know for certain. 

In his presence, there will be no enjoying the pleasures of reading, so you shut the book. “Then you must not know me as well as you claim.” 

His laughter starts softly. An unholy sound that colors the depths of your soul with dread, like a single drop of dark ink into formally purified water. With every second that progresses at a sluggish pace, his amusement corrupts you further, until there’s nothing left to do but glare defiantly at the empty spaces around. If he wants to play coy, taunting you from a distance, then so be it. Exchanges like this that left you a nervous wreck have become commonplace. In the recesses of your mind, a temptation blooms to slander him as a coward. For not materializing into physical form, in fear of the onslaught of your scrutiny that would lash out. But you know the unpleasant truth, he has nothing to fear from the likes of you. 

It's for the sake of your fragile psyche he often chooses to remain out of sight. 

How belittling, you think. That he should place you on a pedestal high enough to consider your mental well being, but still sees fit to keep you under lock and key for himself. Lamenting about your predicament has never filled the void in your heart he tore out, so you push the thoughts as far down as you can. Your mouth is settled into a straight line, head resting atop your fist. If he’s going to poke and prod from afar, the least he can do is dignify you with eye contact. 

Looking at the last spot his voice resonated from, your eyebrows knit together with irritation. “Come out already. Stop playing these trifling games.” 

The loose strands of hair that frame your face are pushed back, by wind of no identifiable origin, chilling your body to the bone. You hug the sides of your bare arms, cursing yourself for picking a flimsy nightgown to wear, the temperature of the room dropping unnaturally. Flicks of ebony and crimson appear by your side, slowly but surely taking the silhouette of a man. The height difference between you two is always unsettling, no matter his claims of never harming you. Eyes that have seen centuries of conflict blink, pallid flesh becoming a physical reality and filling out into a face. This sight is one you’ve bore witness to many times, and each time you feel further from God, like you’re seeing something you shouldn’t be. A deeply forbidden and imposing evil. 

“I’ve done as you’ve asked, there’s no need to glare at the wall anymore.” 

Not seeing an advantage in offering a response, you choose to ignore the comment. “What is it you want, Alucard?” 

Your own tone is exasperated, words cutting straight to the heart of the issue. He takes note of this immediately, and you come to regret your uncharacteristic impatience. Eyelids fluttering shut for a moment to regain your composure, you see him staring down at you with an unreadable countenance once they reopen. There’s a pressing issue on his mind, you know as you’re the centerpiece of it. He must not intend on bringing it up just yet, instead paying heed to the book you picked out. 

“Do you find the selection agreeable?” 

A low hum leaves your lips at the question, and you consider it, before offering an honest opinion. “I can’t read most of the books here.” 

“Should I translate them for you? Or, perhaps, teach you the languages themselves?” Alucard offers after a moment’s deliberation, and you find it strange. The version of him that sits beside you now, consulting you like it’s a normal conversation. As if the hands that stay by his side haven’t been tainted with the blood of thousands, instead taking an almost considerate approach in speaking with you. You can’t claim to understand how a monster such as Alucard became so beguiled by your existence, and something tells you he doesn’t understand it himself.

“There’s no need.” 

Your voice lacks the force it normally exerts, body feeling as if it’s growing further from you. Subconsciously, your hand raises to the side of your head, grimacing at the pounding ache that’s growing stronger by the minute. Acting like nothing is wrong is a feeble effort anyways, he’s already caught onto your dilapidated state. It doesn’t matter how cautious you had been in disposing the blood set aside for your consumption, it was only a matter of time until it’d catch up with you. The hand that remains free goes to the cushion of the couch, fingers entrenching themselves into the fabric and ripping it in the process.

“How long have you gone without it?” He finally stops dancing around the sore subject, much to your chagrin. Alucard sounds exasperated, and if it weren’t for endangering predicament, you might feel a hint of pride. To procure any reaction from him that goes against his wishes is a victory, as far as you’re concerned. Petty as it may be, he himself is far worse. So you relish in the knowledge that you’ve made him miserable, even if it can never match the amount he has inflicted on you. 

The world as you know it is growing unsteady, even as you sit perfectly still. A taboo longing constricts your body, muscles taut and chest heaving. “I lost track.” 

It’s an honest admission. Your little sideshow of rejecting what keeps you alive -- if you can even call this state of being that -- has been ongoing for a while now. An act of defiance to spite Alucard further, that still doesn’t fill you with enough satisfaction. It’s a regret to know that nothing will ever fulfill you, nothing but the ambrosia of freedom, too sweet and out of reach for you to taste. The shadow of a life you now live has ensured that, a nightmare bestowed upon you by Alucard’s innate need. 

“This isn’t even the worst of it,” he lowers his voice, speaking with such delicacy it makes you sick to your stomach. “Should you choose to stay like this, you’ll feel misery beyond words. Give up this futile act of defiance.” 

He speaks right next to you, inches from your ear, but it doesn’t properly register. Emotions haunt you like a curse, a spectrum of despair to raw want. You want blood. You want the taste of iron to lavish itself upon your tongue, temporarily filling the hole of animalistic hunger that you can no longer push down. It’s a flame that’s lit within you, and there is no further hope in extinguishing it. Your own thoughts are replaced by a need to survive, your hands moving without your prompting. 

By your side, he has nicked his finger, liquid crimson falling like a waterfall from heaven. There are no signs of your own self, autonomy thrown to the side. Your soft, paling lips, latch onto the source of vitality. Alucard watches wordlessly, an emotion that can almost be defined as regret flashing through his eyes. This is the fate that he had inflicted upon you, a lifetime of being a vampire like himself. It isn’t what he wanted for you -- to burden you with the weight he has carried for centuries past -- but you left him no choice. Having seen you lying, seconds away from death’s door, he had to act. To preserve your life, to keep you with him. 

You pull away, mouth smeared deep vermillion, eyes growing glassy. There’s no point in holding onto the shreds of honor that left you a long time ago, and you collapse against his solid frame. Alucard has never been capable of comforting you, not beyond melancholic touches that seem to pain him more than you. Sniffling against his shoulder, your hand raises, threatening to strike, before losing strength and falling down. Humiliating as it may be, you don’t care, holding desperately to any form of consolation this world may offer you. 

Alucard, the one who clipped your wings in the name of love, can only watch as you curse and cry out to him. 

[johaerys-writes]

Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania  Pairing: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Chapter 5: Draw, is up! Where Alucard is trying hard to mind his own business (really, he’s trying so hard), but he absolutely cannot do that when Trevor invites him to a duel. A friendly one *wink wink*

Read on AO3! Read from the beginning

“Just do me a favour, will you, Alucard?”

The dhampir lets out a slow, exasperated breath. “What would that be, pray tell?”

Trevor turns to glance at Alucard over his shoulder. He is standing at the far end of the large, circular room that serves as his training room. It is filled with weapon stands, heavy with blades of every possible length, width and shape. Many of them Trevor knows of or has used at some point or other— epees, rapiers, bastard swords, greatswords, halberds and spears. Others, he has only seen in books, like the wide, flat blade that curves at the end, that’s hanging from a peg on the wall. Some of them he has never even beheld before, like that spear with the ivory-worked handle, sporting blades at both ends.

Now that is a weapon Trevor would very much like to use on that tall stickler of a man who is regarding him with thinly veiled contempt from across the room.

The pale grey morning light streaming in through the window illuminates  Alucard's sharp features, casts dark shadows around his eyes, catches in the highlights in his golden hair. Alucard is gazing at him with a look of infinite boredom and forced patience, but underneath it all Trevor can see a faint twinkle of amusement.

“None of your little floating tricks, if you don't mind," Trevor says as he turns to face him. "They’re a bit unnerving.”

Alucard quirks a brow. “Unnerved so easily, Belmont? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Do whatever you like with that information, just please. No flying around, or floating above the ground. I’d hate to see you falling from a great height after I kick your arse.”

Alucard clicks his tongue in disgust and rolls his eyes, and Trevor grins. There. That’s the spirit. Anything but that ice cold facade he’s been putting on ever since he and Sypha have stepped foot in that castle. Trevor knows there’s something there, underneath the surface, and he’s determined to pull it out of him.

“Are you quite done boasting, Belmont? Or are you planning on ending me with terrible jokes? I have to say, it’s working. I’m feeling rather faint.” He flicks his finger ever so slightly, and one of the swords that are hanging from a peg on the wall slides from its scabbard, flying directly into Alucard’s hand.

The sword in Trevor’s own hand, the one that Alucard gave him as soon as they walked in, is an unfamiliar weight. He slashes at the air a couple times, the blade hissing. It is a good sword, all things considered: freshly whetted and oiled, expertly balanced. Not as good as his own, of course, which is lying in its scabbard in his room, but good enough. Alucard is an irritating prick, but he does have a good eye for swords. Trevor was a bit surprised at first that Alucard gave him a sword that’s good enough to match his own, but he knows now that he shouldn’t have been. Alucard would never have given Trevor a sword that would have been less than a match for his own. If there’s one man that appreciates a challenge, an opportunity to show off how skilled he is, how smooth and how graceful, to have his flowy hair ripple as he moves, and his coat flutter in his wake, and perhaps even break out a bit of a sweat, just for the hell of it, just to make a fine performance out of it all, then who else other than bloody Alucard himself?

“That’s a nice sword you gave me,” Trevor remarks, pointedly ignoring Alucard’s earlier comment. “Did you polish it yourself? It’s very well done. Is that how you spend your time these days? Polishing swords?”

“I understand your powers of observation are… disappointing at best,” the other man replies acridly as he gets into position, body melting to the side, “but have you seen anyone else in this castle, all the while you’ve been here?”

Yes. The people hanging out on stakes by your front door, Trevor thinks. The question is right at the tip of his tongue, but Trevor holds it back. For all intents and purposes, Alucard behaves as if they don’t even exist. It’s a mystery if Trevor ever saw any; and he does not like mysteries he cannot solve. But Alucard is reticent, more reticent than he remembers. Unpredictable. Trevor still isn't sure whether he's the same person he and Sypha left behind. One wrong move, and they might both find themselves in trouble. It's best, he decides, if he takes things slow. Test him out a bit. Push him, just the right way.

Trevor gives him a small smile. “Not really, no. But one can never know with you vampires.”

Alucard’s eyes flash with indignation, but it’s quickly reined in as he takes a step forward, his sword singing in the air. Trevor brandishes his own weapon, his body melting in a defensive stance. The wound nips just a little under the bandage; he will have to be careful.

He lifts his sword when Alucard lunges for him. Their blades clash, small sparks flying when the metals collide. Alucard is fast— too fast for Trevor to fully engage him in his condition, but this is supposed to be a friendly training session, anyway. He immerses himself into the rhythm of the fight, getting a bit of satisfaction every time he swerves past Alucard’s attacks. He smiles when he sees the tiny flickers of frustration in the dhampir’s eyes, the pinch of concentration in his features. Even in his current state, he’s more than a challenging opponent.

Alucard falls back for a bit, letting him catch his breath. He swings his blade to the side, rolling his wrist to relax it. “You think you know so much about vampires?” he asks idly. There is a bit of an edge to his voice, and it’s lower than usual.

“I know that I’ve killed a good deal of them,” Trevor says. His pulse is thrumming in his throat, and he can feel the pleasant buzz of exertion already. “They’re an irritating lot, to say the least. Don’t you think?”

Alucard isn't looking at him. His features are calm, but Trevor can see the tension climbing up his shoulders underneath his snug-fitting coat, the tendons in his pale neck. “I think,” he says, “that people make a lot of assumptions about vampires. Some of them are true. Some are not.”

“So they’re not… irritating?” Trevor asks with feigned puzzlement, squinting at him. “Judging by you, I’d say they’re really bloody annoying. So much pomp and circumstance, and not much substance underneath.”

“Perhaps that’s just my human side showing,” Alucard says. “Have you ever stopped to consider that?”

Before Trevor has time to respond to that, Alucard lunges at him, aiming for his sides. Trevor evades the blow, stepping away, but only by a hair. He slashes at him, and misses, again and again. Now that he’s fully warmed up, Alucard is quick and agile, and Trevor is still weak from his injury. It’s perfectly clear that Alucard has not been idle while they’ve been away.

“Human?" Trevor pants, grinning. "Please. My horse is more human than you are.”

“Is that the ‘thank you’ I get for helping save your life? How lovely. I could have just left you outside, you know.” The dhampir floats backwards, regarding him with detached amusement and something -almost- sad.

“Hey. I told you: none of that floating business, yeah? One thing. I ask for one tiny, simple thing—” Trevor sighs and threads his fingers through his hair, scratching his head, then lets his hand fall. “Alright. You got me. Perhaps... I should have started with that.”

“With what?”

“With the ‘thank you’.”

Alucard tilts his head to the side. “For…?”

"For saving my life," Trevor groans and rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Alucard. Much obliged. You probably didn’t have to, but you did it anyway. You could have left me to bleed out on your front door, but you did not. How very kind, how noble, how magnanimous of you.” He gives him a sweeping bow, with a hand flourish. “I am entirely in your debt. Or, well, perhaps I would have been, had I not literally saved your sorry hide a few times myself, but who’s talking about that, right? It’s all ‘Alucard this’, and ‘Alucard that’, and ‘oh, look at me, I’m so pretty with my hair flowing all over the place, and so serious and broody, and I like to wear my shirts open to my navel because I’m just so sophisticated, it’s practically oozing out of me, and’—" Trevor stops when he notices Alucard's eyes widening in shock. "Oh, sorry. Did you want to say something?”  

Alucard gapes at him for a moment. The quiet laughter he lets out is sudden, a bit startled. He seems more surprised at the sound of it than anything, as he blinks at Trevor. “That was… that was quite a performance. I didn’t know you had it in you, Belmont.”

“Is my gratitude accepted, then? Sypha will probably kill me if it’s not.”

"Did... Sypha ask you to thank me?"

"You know how she is. She wanted to make sure you know we're both grateful."

Alucard’s throat bobs as he swallows. He looks very uncomfortable all of a sudden, out of place. "Oh."

“What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Trevor asks. He brings his sword up, the edge of the blade glimmering between his eyes. “Will I have to beat an answer out of you?”

A huffed laugh escapes Alucard's lips. "If you can." His eyes flash red, then he disappears.

Trevor rolls his eyes. "I said: no vampire tricks." He spins on his heel, searching for him in the shadows that stretch around him. A whisper of fabric behind him— and Trevor brings his sword up only a blink of an eye before Alucard’s blade collides with his. He grits his teeth, holding the sword steady. Alucard has gotten closer to him than he would have liked. They are now staring at each other, the blades trembling between them.

“I’m not used to others being grateful for what I do,” Alucard says. His hand that is holding the sword is shaking, but his voice is flat like a cool, still lake. “If it was one of your tactics to get me off my guard, it worked.”

“Tactics? Oh, no,” Trevor grunts, giving him a toothy smile. “It’s the infamous Belmont upbringing you so like to sneer at.”

Alucard lets out a small harrumph, and the breath that brushes Trevor’s cheek smells faintly of almonds, a hint of clove. “I’m not used to being called pretty, either.”

Now it is Trevor’s turn to gape. He blinks at the dhampir, and if it weren’t for his sharp reflexes, he would have lost his balance. “That wasn’t— that— It was just a figure of speech.” He narrows his eyes, just to preserve some of his dignity while warmth is creeping up his cheeks. “Please don’t let it go to your head. You’re insufferable as it is.”

Alucard quirks a brow, and the look he gives him is more piercing than one of Sypha’s ice bolts. “Hm.” The pressure from Trevor’s blade eases away as Alucard steps back, floating out of his reach.  

“Jesus,” Trevor grunts, ignoring the light pain in his sides as he straightens, “how many times do I have to say it? No vampire— oh, fuck it.” He lunges forward, slashing at Alucard as quickly as he can, in a flurry of quick strikes. One of them manages to graze Alucard’s shoulder, another tears slightly at the fabric of his shirt. The thrill of those small victories rushes through Trevor, and he grins in triumph as he starts gaining ground. He’s still careful to keep his strikes light, though, to simply graze and not to wound. This is only a friendly bout, after all. “You’re lucky I don’t have my whip with me.”

A soft, throaty laugh echoes in his ears. Alucard’s eyes flash red, then he disappears again.

“Ah, damn you,” Trevor grunts, glancing about him. He will never get used to this.  

The brush of air against the side of his face is the only sign betraying Alucard’s presence, before he strikes in earnest. Their swords clash, the din of steel meeting steel filling the room. There is a strange vivacity in Alucard’s gaze, a sort of joy, a hint of a blush staining his cheeks. A part of his mind, the one that isn’t fully absorbed in the exhilaration of their fight, finds that almost… endearing.

The wound tugs at Trevor underneath the bandage, and he can’t help the sharp hiss that escapes him when he rolls out of the way of one of Alucard’s attacks. He tilts forward without meaning to, and presses his palm to his sides.

“Fuck,” Trevor breathes, wincing.

Alucard's blade stops only a few inches away from Trevor before he drops it.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and for a split second, Trevor thinks he sees genuine worry in his gaze, underneath his icy facade.

It startles Trevor, but only for a moment. He takes the opportunity and dashes for him. Their blades clash with a sharp, high-pitched clang that echoes through the large room. Trevor grins when his swift attack presses Alucard back.

“Never let your guard down,” he says with a smirk.

Alucard recovers quickly, much more quickly than Trevor expects. His surprise melts into a frown of determination, brows drawn together in utmost concentration. The bastard parries his blows like he’s meant for it; it’s not long before beads of sweat start arcing down Trevor’s brow. He had forgotten how quick Alucard’s reflexes are. If Trevor weren’t in such bad form, and if he had his whip as well as his sword, their odds would have been far more even, but as it is, he's barely holding his own.

He growls in frustration when, after a daring move that got him close enough to graze the dhampir’s cheek, his sword is knocked out of his hands.

Alucard smiles, a flash of sharp white teeth behind pale rose lips. It’s friendly enough, yet it still manages to look threatening. Trevor can only gaze at him in defiance, nostrils flaring as he pants, when the tip of Alucard’s blade is pressed under his chin.

“What’s wrong, Belmont? No more tricks up your sleeve?”

“There’s a few that come to mind.”

Alucard quirks a brow at him. “I do hope it isn’t another kick in the balls. We both know how well that went last time you tried it.”

Trevor huffs a laugh. “Nope. I tend to learn from my mistakes.” His gaze never leaves Alucard face as he reaches into his coat pocket. As expected, Alucard’s eyes flick towards the motion, pupils widening like a hunting cat’s. With his attention diverted, Trevor ducks to the side, escaping the sharp edges of the blade under his chin, then kicks Alucard’s feet from under him. The dhampir falls back with a surprised huff, and, before he can move or fly away, Trevor pins him to the ground, one hand holding his wrist down, the other pressing the tip of the dagger that was hidden in his sleeve against his heart. “You, however, do not.”

Alucard glares up at him, unblinking. He is completely still in Trevor’s hold, unnaturally so, not even a muscle moving. His hair is spread like a golden halo around his head, his skin gleaming bone white against the dark stone floor beneath him.

“You know I could still teleport and stab you in the back. Yes?” His voice is slow, his tone flat, not an inkling of emotion showing. It sends a slight shiver down Trevor’s spine.

“I suppose so. But you won’t. Because that would be cheating, and you don't do that, right?” Trevor lets the corners of his lips curl in a smug smile as he leans forward, holding the dhampir’s gaze. “I believe that means I am the victor of this match.”

Alucard’s gaze never leaves Trevor’s. From this close, Trevor can see the flecks in Alucard’s eyes, different shades of gold glittering in the light trickling through the high windows, the thin crease between his eyebrows, the tension at the corners of his lips. Alucard is holding his breath, it seems, his chest barely moving under Trevor’s blade.

Something bright, something feral flashes in Alucard’s eyes before he surges up.

Trevor freezes when their lips meet. For a moment —a brief one, a blink of an eye— he’s sure his heart has stopped beating, yet it’s not long before he can feel his pulse in his throat.

If he could move, he would have pinched himself, because this is surely not happening. Alucard’s lips are on his own. Alucard's lips, on his lips. They are slightly cold to the touch, but not by much. Soft. Softer even than Sypha’s, which are often chapped. His skin smells of almonds, of berries, a hint of woodsmoke.

A sudden spike of fear rushes through Trevor when he feels the edge of a shortsword pressing against his sides, through the fabric of his tunic.

“How did you put it before, Belmont?” Alucard whispers, edging back. His eyes are blazing with smug satisfaction underneath his fair eyelashes, but there’s also a hint of surprise there, that Trevor suspects matches his own. “‘Never let your guard down’?”

Trevor swallows thickly. They’re not touching anymore, not like before, but Alucard’s mouth is still frustratingly close to his own. “A hell of a cheap trick, that was,” he mumbles, trying as best he can to keep his composure.

“No cheaper than yours, surely.”

Trevor gapes at him for a long moment, unsure what to say. His pulse is still beating in throat; he wonders if Alucard can hear it. He finally lets the dhampir go with a huff and stands up, and the fact that his legs are a little weak now does nothing to lessen his frustration. “I’m still the winner of this match,” he says petulantly, to which Alucard laughs.

“That was most certainly a draw.” Alucard pushes himself up, sliding his shortsword smoothly into the scabbard hidden in his boot. “But you can keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better.”

“You really are one smug, arrogant bastard, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse."

"Always so dramatic,"  Trevor scoffs and rolls his eyes. “With your agreeable disposition? That's hard to believe." He sheaths his own dagger without looking at him, then goes to pick up his sword that was knocked to the far side of the room. He busies himself with returning it to the weapon stand where it belongs, in hopes that the warmth that has crept up his cheeks isn’t too noticeable.

Why is he blushing, anyway? Trevor really isn’t in the best shape today, that’s for certain.

Trevor turns to glance at him over his shoulder. Alucard is boredly brushing the dust off his coat sleeves, thoroughly ignoring him, but Trevor finds himself gaping at him like a fish.

The front of Alucard’s shirt was ripped by one of Trevor’s attacks during their swordfight, but it must have ripped even further with his tumble, leaving his chest and stomach exposed. Deep, criss-crossing scars interrupt the expanse of smooth pale skin, red and angry against its alabaster-like whiteness. They’re not quite as deep as the one in the center of his chest, a souvenir from his fight with his father, but they look no less menacing.

Trevor’s stomach sinks at the sight.

“God,” he breathes. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Alucard glances up at him in curiosity. He freezes when he realises what Trevor is staring at. His spine straightens, his features turning as rigid and cold as ice. “Nothing,” he says, buttoning up his coat with lightning quick motions. “Nothing happened to me.”

“That doesn’t look like nothing.” Trevor takes a step closer, reaching out to stop his hand. “Who did this to—”

“I said: it’s nothing.” Alucard steps back as if by instinct, out of his reach. His expression doesn’t betray any of his thoughts, but the way he avoids Trevor’s gaze has his stomach clenching even further.

This doesn’t seem right. Nothing about this seems right.  

They both linger in tense silence for several moments. It’s Alucard’s magical sword that interrupts the quiet, when it lifts off the floor and slides into its scabbard on its own.

“I would suggest you get some rest,” Alucard says flatly. “Your injury requires it, if your current fighting skills are anything to go by.” He turns around and leaves without a word.

There are several scathing responses that spring to Trevor’s mind, but they all die at the tip of his tongue as he watches Alucard walk away, spine straight and rigid as a plank.

~

When Trevor returns to their room, he finds Sypha curled up on the armchair next to the fireplace, a large leather-bound tome open in her lap. She beams at him when she sees him coming in.

“Well? How did it go?” Her smile falls considerably when she notices Trevor’s expression. “Oh, no. That bad?”

Trevor walks over to the bed and sits down slowly. Sypha is watching him with wide, questioning eyes, and he isn’t quite sure what to tell her.

“I invited him to a duel.”

Sypha’s eyebrows climb up her forehead. “Oh.” She lets the book fall closed and sets it on the low table before her. “Odd way to thank someone for their hospitality, but do go on.”

“It was a friendly one. We were just... practicing, I suppose.”

“Alright. Who won?”

“I did. But then he kissed me.”

“He what? ” Sypha’s eyes widen even more, her mouth falling open on a gasp. “Damn it! I knew I should have been the one to go and speak to him today.”

“What?!”

“What?” At his bewildered stare, she lets out a small laugh. “Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it before.”

Trevor stares at her in affront. “I have not!”

“That makes one of us, then,” she mutters, and it could be Trevor's imagination, but her cheeks get slightly flushed.

“You’ve thought of kissing Alucard?”

“Once or twice. Alright, perhaps a few more times. I mean, he’s gorgeous, right? That's just a fact.” She leans forward on the armchair, setting her chin on her fist. “So, how was it? Is he a good kisser? Did he make the first move, or did you? And what weapons were you using for the duel? I want to know all about it. If I knew you would have got on this well, I would have come to watch.”

Trevor blinks at her, then drags his palm down his face. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you,” he groans. He’d forgotten how relaxed Speakers are when it comes to romantic relationships. There’s usually no such thing as strict monogamous relationships in Speaker clans, unless a couple wishes it to be so; members of the clan are free to sleep or flirt with others, and no one bats an eye. Trevor himself isn’t particularly possessive or jealous of Sypha in that way, and he thinks that the Speakers might be doing something right there, but there’s something about the fact that she has thought of kissing Alucard that has this very frustrating blush creeping up his cheeks again.

“It wasn’t like that,” he says hastily. “He did it to distract me so he could win… I didn’t expect it.” He shakes his head, “He drew a knife on me, the sneaky bastard.”

“Oh,” Sypha says, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Well, I still wish I was there to see. Anyway. So, did you talk at all? Did he tell you how he is, how he’s been doing? Did you ask him about the…?” She raises eyebrows in question, tilting her head towards the main entrance.

“No. I didn't get the chance. But…” Trevor frowns as he let his words trail away. A tendril of worry coils in his gut, same as before. “Sypha, there are scars all over him. I don’t know what caused them, but it must have been some sort of magical weapon… or something consecrated. Something that is used specifically against vampires.”

“Consecrated?” Sypha sits up in her chair, her expression darkening. “Like the ones you have?”

“Must be. Anything else, and those marks would have healed long before.” He rubs the stubble on his chin, taking in a slow breath. “If it was those people out front that did it…”

“Then they were trying to kill him,” Sypha whispers. Her lips tighten in a line, and her brows furrow in thought and worry.

Trevor nods, “Perhaps. Perhaps this is what happened. It could be the reason why he’s been so… so much more ‘Alucard’ than usual.” His frown deepens. “It still doesn’t explain why he mounted them on stakes. It could be that we have it all wrong. We shouldn't jump to any conclusions.”

“Then there’s only one thing for us to do.”

She stands up, and Trevor follows her with his eyes.

“Next time we see him,” she says, that same determination Trevor knows so well burning in her gaze, “we’re doing things my way.”