#machecoul

[postcard-from-the-past]

Folklore garments from Machecoul, Brittany region of France

French vintage postcard

[gillesvalery]

MACHECOUL (Eglise Saint Honoré) (3)

[arystyle]

SaloméStyle 📸😜😉😀👌👍💣💥⭐️✨💫🙈🙊 #arystyle #tshirtarystyle #breakdance #bboy #bgirl #bboying #machecoul #nantes https://www.instagram.com/p/CpiyluYMkJd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ladyandherbooks]

One of the most interesting parts of Castlevania Nocturne is the difference between the Old World and the New World vampires.

Olrox saw not only his own people die but also saw and heard about countless other cultures across both Americas in his 260 years of being a vampire. And while we don't have any official confirmation there's a good chance that vampirism was introduced to the new world by old world vampires who probably treated their new vampiric children/spawn horribly because they were from the new world and probably thought that they were beneath them, at least initially.

Old world vampires also tend to separate themselves from humans, only engaging with humans to hunt, feed off of or use them. They see them as livestock, so far beneath them that there's no point in learning about them as they see them has having little merit or value apart from their blood.

Olrox however, is completely different, he engages with humans and chooses to live with them. He chooses to make his way to Machecoul on his own rather than with Vaublanc, he chose to stay at an inn in town rather than at the Marquis' palace and he has close intimate relationships with humans, first with his late love and now with Mizrak. He also only drinks from poweful and privileged humans rather than commoners like his counterparts in France. He also doesn't appear to view humans as his inferiors and never uses the same language that his old world counterparts do to describe humanity. He also refers to both his vampiric life and life as a human when he talks to Mizrak.

Olrox has chosen humanity over his fellow vampires, at least the old world ones.

And what's interesting is that this is also what Alucard did over 300 years ago. And what Dracula began to do at the end of Castlevania when he wanted to go and live in Whitby with Lisa so that he could become a better person.

So it will be interesting to see how Olrox and Alucard interact when they first meet and potentially also how Olrox and Dracula could interact if they decide to reintroduce him at some point. Olrox might actually like them.

[cloverque]

to where the willows weep (richter belmont)

synopsis: in search of a rare willow, an apothecary sails from her homeland in the east to france. she lacks a bodyguard, and rumour has it that a certain young man in the town of machecoul is up for hire. so long as you have the money, that is.

multi-chapter short series, pre-nocturne

18th century, may be historically inaccurate (but i will try my best), mix povs, kind of gory!, more of a personal self-insert so it won't be inclusive of all ethnicities, setting is inspired by the netflix animated series… not konami's video games

masterlist.

teaser

[nesiacha]

Short post concerning a fed up for a category of people including certain politicians or certain people: there are several films on the Vendée war. Without denying the horrors of Turreau or Carrier (including revolutionaries Billaud Varennes who wanted to have him executed for that or Robespierre who wanted to have Carrier executed for his drownings), I love the double standard which consists of not mentioning the massacres of prisoners of Jaffa, the oblivion of the fight of independance of Haiti, the massacres of slaves in Guyana or Haiti (it's strange there are fewer films on this period), or the fact of trying to justify the repressions of former slaves in those times by saying that they were not left out of killing white people, the reestablishment of slavery by putting out the false argument of pragmatism or that it was in his time. Okay, but in this case it is an invitation to justify the massacres in Vendées by saying that the Vendées committed massacres in Machecoul, and the fact that France was in a hellish situation (even more so than the departements of Outre Mer ) therefore that it is “pragmatism”, and the fact Louis XIV was not above carrying out more violent repressions so it was on the time that revolutionnaries make repression. Can these people can be more consistent? The worst is that a politician Philippe de Villiers advocates the collapse of statutes like Robespierre and advocates a genocide of Vendée. Okay, if he wants. In this case, if he wants his own ideology to be applied, his works must also be debunked because his father was part of the OAS and he paid homage to colonial Algeria. Finally, let him be consistent (but generally as the saying goes, a politician is never consistent, perhaps I should have put it in my post when politicians get involved in history) because he who is moral regarding the Vendée is less so regarding the colonies of France. Not to mention that I had the misfortune of going to Puy du Fou, great rubbish in terms of history, in addition to the bookstore side this site finds excuses for Napoleon while the mountain revolutionaries do not. Bizarre this double standard of morals… I am more and more desperate about the popularity of this site (although I believe in freedom of expression and that he has the right to say what he wants, it is frightening to see how many people believe his nonsense).

[ifishouldvanish]

Until the Sun Rises Again: Chapter 6

SHIP: Alucard/Olrox, Olrox/Olrox's Unnamed Past Lover

SUMMARY: After narrowly escaping Erzsebet's forces in Machecoul, Alucard brings everyone to the castle to rest and develop a new plan of action. But as strangely familiar as Belmont and the others feel, there's one person who confounds him:a vampire by the name of Olrox.

TAGS: Getting Together, A lot of speculating on Olrox's backstory, i just think the two centuries-old vampires who have each loved and lost should smooch, Eventual Smut, but for now just melancholy vibes and longing guess

---

Stockbridge, Massachusetts • May 1775

Olrox stirred as the bed shifted under Samuel's weight. It was early morning, the room cast in the grey-blue hues of dawn, and Samuel had just sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Olrox watched as he rubbed his eyes and bent down to pick up his breeches from the night before. With the silver bullet taken out of his side and a fresh rabbit to suck dry, Olrox's wounds had healed completely in a matter of hours–leaving them with the better part of the evening to get better acquainted.

He'd learned that Samuel's grandmother was their Sachem, or leader–though really more of a figurehead under the white man's occupation. Learned that Samuel himself bore the title of her Owl, and in a less official capacity, the responsibilities of her Runner. It was clear that the white men were writing these titles off as merely symbolic as well–but Olrox could tell they were far more powerful than that. They were positions of knowledge, connections, and influence; the kind of respect that was built from the ground up, and rather than bequeathed from above.

He'd also learned that Samuel had a scar on his shoulder, a little dimple in the flesh just above his buttocks, and made the most delightful sounds when you nibbled on his ear.

“Headed out so soon?” Olrox asked.

Samuel stilled and looked over his shoulder at him.

“I was hoping we might do that again,” Olrox purred, trailing a finger down his bare back and admiring the red marks his nails had left there with satisfaction.

A smile spread across Samuel’s face. “Tpuskawihnaaw aahunukwih-anawiimuk,” he said, with the sort of playful gleam in his eyes that indicated he knew perfectly well that Olrox had no idea what he'd just said. He let him stare blankly for a few seconds before switching to English: “I would love to. But all the best game’ll be out now, and the people have to eat.”

“And you're the only one who can feed them?” Olrox demured.

[Continue on AO3]

[maighdean-ailceimic]

Familiar faces

|| Closed starter for @melancholynobleman ||

“Evening, miss.” The barkeep nodded in acknowledgement. “Bit earlier than usual tonight. Not sure if he’ll be in but he usually isn’t gone for this long.”

Sabriel inwardly sighed despite offering a pleasant smile. “Thank you, good sir.”

The barkeep studied her after his eyes flickered towards some other patrons. “Have you other family you can stay with? It’s not the norm around these parts for young women to linger on their own.”

“My cousin should be in town from Machecoul tomorrow morning. If Grandfather doesn’t show up this evening, I shall leave to join my family there.” The lie came effortlessly. Not the location but that she had people expecting her.

“Tis a shame that you would leave us so soon, Miss Briel.”

Sabriel couldn’t resist a grimace before she steeled her expression into that befitting the naïveté young woman. She turned towards the youth who sat with a couple of his friends, smiling pleasantly. She understood his attraction, for she physically seemed around his age…give or take a year…but nothing about him was appealing to her.

“Rather rude to listen in on others’ conversations, sir.” She retorted before looking to other patrons she had befriended during her stay. “I promised everyone more songs, no? What instrument has anyone brought tonight?”

An older man, Jon if she remembered correctly, lifted his fiddle. “Just tuned her, miss.”

“Wonderful.” Sabriel moved past the group of young men, ensuring she was outside of arm space, before taking a place at the hearth. She ignored the cold stare from the youth who spoke earlier, clearly disliking that she had easily disengaged from him, and began to sing while Jon played.

[mihrimahfs]

The town of Machecoul every time Edouard sings

[shestheram]

The poor soul who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time laid bleeding from the neck on the ground. Tera looked over at her victim's corpse, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and dragged him off.

"...This is part of what I signed up for." She muttered to herself, repeating it as she continued walking towards the abbey. Her head was hung low as she walked throughout the streets of Machecoul. As focused as she appeared, something caught her attention.

Someone saw her. She begun to cast a spell, and bared her fangs defensively.

"You saw nothing."

[fallloverfic]

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Fandom: Castlevania: Nocturne (Cartoon)

Relationships: Mizrak/Olrox

Tags: Post-canon, porn what plot/porn without plot, double penetration, size difference, happy ending, established relationship, vampire/human relationships, top Olrox, bottom Mizrak, xeno, more tags on Ao3

Summary: Olrox and Mizrak take a walk in the woods beyond Machecoul, and Mizrak asks to see more of Olrox's giant serpent form. A lot more.

Being Tender (3,071 words, complete)

[metataxy]

Richter Belmont as Dhampir Fic #3

Summary: Olrox abducted Richter Belmont in retribution against Julia Belmont for the death of his love. Fast-forward fifteen years: Julia is living in France with her cousin Tera and their children. When her second son is captured in attempt to sneak into a vampire's manor, Julia is ready to storm the gates of hell rather than lose another child to the enemy. But her preparations are interrupted by two unexpected arrivals...

Part 1, Part 2 here, just something I'm playing with and don't plan on posting to AO3 until I know where this is going ;)

Warnings: Swearing (mostly in French, so also sacrilege?), allusions to sex.

--------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t believe you were foolish enough to go to the Manor, let alone take the kids with you.” Juste shook his head, the movement emphatic enough to almost dislodge the pipe from his mouth. He readjusted it and took a long draw. The tobacco cinders in the cup burnt brighter, like a third eye glaring furiously from the old man’s face.

Julia said nothing, head downturned, but he could see the tears streaking down her face, and she was rubbing at her twisted left arm, as she did whenever she felt unhappy. The arm had set poorly. Ten years before, her old enemy, the vampire Olrox, had set out to kill her in retaliation for the death of his lover. The ancient monster been halfway to succeeding in his goal, having shattered her arm and half her ribs, before abruptly deciding the better vengeance would be to take her son, Richter. Julia had been pregnant at the time, though she hadn’t know it. By the time she’d delivered Brandel and her injuries had healed well enough for her to attempt pursuit, the trail had gone cold.

She’d all but given up hunting after that. She’d left the Americas, and her lover, and took her six year-old son and four-year daughter to live with her cousin Tera in Machecoul. She’d focused, almost obsessively, on training and teaching Brandel and Agnes.

Which was why Juste couldn’t believe she’d allowed Brandel out on a raid.

“They weren’t supposed to be there,” Tera told him, setting bread and butter and a hot tureen of soup down on the table, before sliding next to her cousin on the trestle bench and gathering Julia into her arms. “It was supposed to be just Julia and I. We didn’t even tell them where we were going--told them to stay in the house and ward the doors. We told them it was dangerous after dark in the city. But Maria slipped out to join Jacques at one of the Revolutionary meetings—”

“Ostie. And of course, where Maria goes, Brandel and Agnes follow.”

Tera nodded, her own eyes no less red-rimmed than Julia’s. “The revolutionaries heard there was a grand party up at the Duc’s house. They were planning on slipping into the Manor, maybe pilfering from the cellars. None of them had any idea there were vampires there, and since we hadn’t warned the kids—”

“They stumbled into it,” Juste surmised. “Tabernac,” he swore, pounding his fist down on the table. He stood up, punching his fist into his hand. “I told you,” he swore. “I told you, keeping them in the dark would just endanger them more. That they’d be better off coming with us, training actual monsters, knowing what on earth they’re up against.”

“Do you think Richter was better off?” Julia raised her head from where she’d buried it in Tera’s shoulder.

“Corducris, no, Julia, but you didn’t exactly train him against monsters either, or he would have known to run when Olrox tried to take you out!”

Juste wished he could take back the words. Julia’s face blanched, with anger or misery, he couldn’t say. Her voice was deathly quiet.

“You’re saying it’s my fault that monster killed my son?”

Juste opened his mouth helplessly, but was saved from having to respond by the polite knock at the door of the house. The women immediately tensed, disentangling themselves from the bench. Julia’s hands went to her knives, Tera’s came up in the first gesture of a sequence to cast a spell. Juste checked through the slats of the shutters.

“Who is at this hour?” Julia asked, tense. Maria and Agnes were on the stair in their nightgowns, candle in hand, their own spells at the ready.

“An old friend I asked for help,” Juste said, opening the door, “and our best hope for getting Brandel back. Welcome. Come in.”

Juste stepped aside, and the figures stepped across the threshold, and into the lamplight. Despite her father’s assurances, Julia’s hands tightened on her knifehilts.

The strange men were dressed like nobility. The first wore a long black coat edged in gold thread, high black leather boots, and over all of it, a long black cloak lined with white satin. All his buttons were gold and stamped with a heraldic device that looked vaguely familiar. His long hair was a luminous gold, and rippled about his head like an aureole. His pale yellow eyes reminded her of her father’s, in their shape and expression, though Juste’s were more of a washed out hazel in hue.

The second man was a hair shorter, and garbed in a hooded coat of grey leather, fitted at the forearms and chest, with a deep hood and long skirts. Below, his pants were close-fitting and grey as well, his boots shining black. She couldn’t make out his face though, because he wore a domino mask of gold filigree.

None of these details interested Julia so much though, as their unearthly beauty, the unnatural pallor of their skin, or the pointed tips of the blond man’s ears peeking through his bright hair.

“Vampires!” she snarled, throwing a knife, or trying to. Juste knocked her arm, and the blade knocked harmlessly into an ugly pitcher Tera had bought out of pity from the drunk potter down the road.

“Calm down, they’re dhampirs, and they’re on our side.”

“Dhampirs are a fucking myth, Papa, you can’t be serious, they’ve enthralled you—”

The masked one hovered in front of the closed door, while the golden one lifted his hands in entreaty.

“Please,” he said, in an absurdly musical tenor that sent a frisson of fear down Julia’s spine, and hardened her resolve. The more powerful the vampire, the more lovely they often appeared in order to lure prey.

Julia pulled a second knife out from her boot and rounded the table. “Tera, grab some rope.”

“Julia, this really isn’t necessary,” Juste appealed.

“I’ll decide what’s necessary. Maria, get the Holy Water. Agnes, don’t even think of coming down those stairs.”

“I apologize for coming without any notice,” the blond continued, with great patience, and Julia didn’t trust it one bit.

“You, I don’t know,” Julia snapped, pointing at the blond. The vampire exchanged an exasperated glance with her father, and then bent in a courtly bow. “Adrien Fahrenheit Tepes, better known as Alucard.”

“Right, and I’m Marie Antoinette,” Julia sneered. “Cloak off. Throw your sword belt and any other weapons over here. Now. You too,” she jabbed her blade at the second cloaked figure, and her face twisted, examining him. “You, I know. You’re the Catamite. Olrox’s new lover.”

“Julia—” Papa warned. She wasn’t listening to any of it.

“How dare you set foot anywhere near my home? Come to gloat that I’ve lost another son after your sire killed the last one?”

“It wasn’t exactly like that,” the cloaked man said. He had a pleasant, if perfectly ordinary voice. “Olrox prefers not to—"

“Unless you’ve got my son hidden under that cloak, I don’t think any of us want to hear what Olrox prefers,” she cut him off. He made a strangled sound, and pulled down his hood. His hair underneath was a dusty brown, the immemorable shade of a sparrow, and pulled back in a braid. He unlaced the ties securing the mask to his face, removed it.

To her shock, she knew that face far better than the mask. She’d seen a variation of it almost daily for ten years, had spent the last fifteen looking for that face in every crowd. She saw the memory of that face in her own reflection, in the faces of her younger children, who, undeservingly, only reminded her of what she’d lost.

Her dead son looked her in the eye, and gave a wan smile. “Hello Maman. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

-------------------------------------------

Julia swayed on her feet, as though unbalanced, staring at the man claiming to be her dead son. Hope and disbelief surged in her, accompanied by revulsion, and she knew every bit of those feelings showed on her face.

“Maman?” he asked uncertainly, his features softening in concern.

She knew what she had to do.

She flicked her wrist and threw a spear of ice straight at the man’s heart.

He blurred before her, in a motion so quick it had to be magic, and the ice embedded itself in the door. The other vampire had divested himself of his cloak and weapons and had taken a seat to watch the proceedings. He’d also helped himself… to a bowl of soup? The man who claimed to be Richter held his hands up.

“Hey, I’m not fighting. See?” He unbuckled his belt, letting it fall, sword and all, to the floor, and shimmied out of his grey coat. His shirt underneath could have been borrowed from his sire’s wardrobe, purple silk with stylized serpents embroidered in gold along the collar. He pulled off his gloves, removed the knives strapped to his forearms, and carefully bent to place those on the ground, all the while keeping an wary eye on her. He unlaced his boots and kicked them towards her, then straightened, holding up his hands.

“Turn around,” she said tightly.

The Catamite exchanged a glance she couldn’t interpret with the golden vampire, and nodded. She came closer, and searched him, feeling along his body for hidden weapons—below the armpits, along his sides, not ignoring even between his legs.

She nodded.

“Sit down,” she bit out, and the man seated himself gingerly next to the golden vampire.

“I realize this is a bit of a shock,” he began, and she tensed.

“No, not at all,” she said. “My father just welcomed two vampires into my home, and one just claims to be my dead son.”

“I understand you’re upset, Maman, but—”

“Don’t call me Maman,” she told him, and she was crying again, even as she looked the vampire squarely in the eyes. “My son is dead. Your sire killed him. He just didn’t leave me a body to bury. You might be what’s left of him, but you aren’t him.”

Any expression melted off the vampire’s face, leaving him still and dispassionate as a marble statue. “Very well,” he said, flicking his eyes at his companion. “Then let me tell you how you can recover your remaining son before any similar measures are required to ensure his survival.”

She tensed. “Is that a threat?”

Her father laid a hand on her arm from where he’d seated himself at the bench. “The boy’s just telling things as they are, Julia,” he told her placatingly, shaking his head at Tera, who’d lifted the requested rope in silent question.

She would have turned to glare at her father, but that would have required her to take her eyes off the vampires. The golden one had finished his bowl of soup and was smiling in thanks at her cousin behind her.

“Most of the revolutionaries were killed when the Duc’s people found them trespassing.”

“Jacques?” came Maria’s wavering voice from the stairs. Julia couldn’t find it in her to tell the girl to go back to bed, though Agnes had to be just behind her still.

“The red-haired man who was with you?” the Catamite asked. Maria must have given some sign of affirmation. The vampire exhaled. “Dead. I’m sorry.”

Maria gave a low cry. Julia heard Agnes murmuring in comfort.

“What of his body?” asked Tera helplessly.

“Your putain of a Churchman’s been making Night Creatures in the cellars with a machine he bought with his soul,” Juste said harshly. “Alucard told me earlier today. The Abbot used Jacques’ body.”

Julia heard the scraping of a bench as Tera almost fell backwards in seating herself, murmuring denials. It didn’t surprise Julia though. She’d been driven out of France once already by the fanaticism of Churchmen. “And Brandel?”

“He’s a sorcerer,” said the Catamite. “I claimed him for Olrox. No one less than Bathory or Drolta would dare challenge my sire, and neither of them will bother. You’re lucky it wasn’t one of the girls, or things would be different.”

“Olrox has him?” Julia demanded, bile rising in her throat. She wanted to vomit, had to swallow back hard, had to concentrate on something other than the idea of cocky young Brandel become pale and cold as the man before her, whose eyes lingered on her jugular distractedly. “Is he okay?”

“A few bites and some bloodloss before I managed to dispatch his assailants,” the Catamite told her, business-like.

“And Olrox hasn’t touched him?” she demanded, stomach tightening at the thought of that monster’s hands on her Brandel, of what he must have done to Richter before he died, given the title the man before her bore.

The man only looked annoyed at the suggestion though. “Olrox isn’t interested in children. We’ve fed from him and given him a little of our blood. That’s it.”

“You fed from him—” Julia’s whole body shook, suppressing herself from launching herself at the Catamite. The man looked back at her incredulously, exchanging a stupefied glance with the golden vampire.

“It’s not as though we had a choice,” the Catamite said, sounding bewildered and more like her lost ten-year-old son than he had yet that night. He combed his fingers back through his scalp, messing up his braid. Strands of his hair, still fine and light as Richter’s had been at ten, fell askew about his face. “Do you know how a vampire court works? Humans are cattle, unless they’ve been claimed as potential childer. To do that, we have to exchange blood. Whether through magic or scent, it leaves a mark. It’s the only way to keep the boy safe.”

“Why do you have to keep him at all?” Julia demanded.

The man looked dumbstruck. “He attacked a vampire court with magic. If I let him go, Bathory and her minions would want to know why, and I don’t have a good excuse. She’d stake my sire and I, and that would put an end to all this valuable information Grandfather’s been feeding you this past month.”

This past month? Richter, or the vampire that had been him, had been in Machecoul for a month, and her father hadn’t told her? Oh, she was going to have words with Juste after this.

“So you’re keeping him? You’re not going to turn him?”

“No reasonable vampire wants to turn an adolescent,” Alucard murmured finally, having helped himself to a second bowl of soup. At least someone was eating it, though she’d thought that if vampires ingested anything other than blood, they had to vomit it all back up again. Richter shook his head emphatically. “No. At least—no.” She stared at him, having heard the slight hesitation in his voice.

“If there were no other way to save him, Olrox might try to replicate the conditions of my transformation, but that would take months. You’d rescue him by then, I’d hope,” Richter said.

Julia eyed him over again, and, calmer now, catalogued what she saw: the ears, pointed but not so long or narrow that they couldn’t pass for human, the faint flush to his skin, Alucard sipping up the last of his second bowl of soup with relish.

“You’re really dhampirs,” she realized finally.

“Yeah.”

“What did Olrox do?”

“Fed me his blood every month or so for five years, and then several times a day for the weeks I was dying of smallpox. Most dhampirs have a vampire father and human mother, but seems that if you have any recent vampiric heritage, there’s a chance of transformation if you’re near death and ingesting vampire blood.”

“Your father was completely human though!”

“Actually, he probably wasn’t,” her father cut in.

Julia finally took her eyes off Richter to sight in on her father. “Papa?” she asked, feeling near the breaking point. This was just too many revelations for one night.

Juste’s eyes flickered to the golden vampire, Alucard, who looked up from reading the small book he’d produced from somewhere on his too-tight breeches. Alucard shrugged.

Juste sat down heavily on the bench beside her.

“Our family’s never been completely human. All that shit we’ve heard about Trevor Belmont doing back in the day—fighting off a score of vampires half-drunk? You’ve fought vampires. You think anyone could do that, even if we trained them up from infancy?” He took a swig of wine from what she was pretty sure was her mug, set it back down before she could protest. “No. Even those of us who don’t have magic are born different from most folk. I trained Jacques more than you ever let me train Brandel or Agnes, but there’s no training that will tell you where to dodge when a bullet’s being fired without warning, or if a Night Creature’s going to come leaping down from a tree. That’s instinct. And we only have it because on some level, we’re about as different from what we hunt as hounds from wolves.”

She’d stolen back her mug and took a fortifying drink, set it down again. “But Richter’s father—Fahrenheit wasn’t a Belmont.”

Juste shrugged and scratched his back. “You’ve had your share of lovers.” The statement wasn’t the reprimand someone else would have made it, given she’d had three children out of wedlock. “Married or not, most Belmonts do, same as the Speakers. Always been like that. Why’d you think Fahr’s magic was so similar to yours?”

“You never said anything.”

Juste hmphed, leaning his elbows back on the table behind him with a degree of comfort that didn’t seem right in the presence of vampires. “Nothing really to say. Your Ma and I never slept with Fahr’s parents, so there wasn’t any risk of you two being siblings.”

“So all of us—the Speakers, the Belmonts—”

“You’re all descended from magical beings, yes,” confirmed Alucard, looking up from his book. “But mostly vampires.”

“What kind of vampire would actually sleep with a Belmont though?” Tera asked, coming around the table to offer Alucard and Richter full mugs of ale and taking the former’s empty soup bowl. Julia shot her an incredulous look—was she actually approaching the damned vampires now? “I mean, I’ve never heard of any vampires sleeping with humans.”

“The Old World vampires don’t do it openly,” Richter told her. “There haven’t been many dhampirs over the years, because we’ve had a nasty habit of siding with the humans.” He grinned, exposing his fangs. “Most vampires will kill women after they’ve had them. Can’t have a bastard breeding up a dynasty of monster hunters, after all. They kill half-breeds.”

“Right,” Julia looked into her son’s face, fangs and all. “If the two of you are really half-breeds, why haven’t they killed you?”

Richter’s smile sharpened. He hadn’t touched the ale Tera had offered him, though Alucard was currently sipping appreciatively at it. “Oh, they’d love to kill Alucard, but he’s a three hundred year old sorcerer trained at the knee of his father Vlad Tepes. Yeah, that Alucard,” he confirmed, responding to the disbelief stealing once more over her face. The man in question didn’t comment. “They’re not suicidal.”

“And you?”

Richter adjusted his posture somehow, and was abruptly lounging indolently on the rough-hewn wood bench as though it were a throne, posed in a way that made the eye follow his long, leanly muscled limbs to his boyish waist and thickening shoulders. He smiled cockily. Julia wished she didn’t know where this was going. “I’m the Catamite,” he said lightly. “Not a title my sire or I picked out, but no one actually believes he turned me. In our world, the only bonds are blood and sex. I’m obviously not his son, so the best explanation for my presence by his side is that I’m his lover. No one is going to challenge someone of Olrox’s stature if he wants to keep a pet dhampir, and no one’s going to kill his lover after what happened the last time.”

‘What happened last time’ had been the massacre of all the soldiers Julia had fought directly alongside and all the vampires who'd been craven or cunning enough to run away when she'd challenged them and leveling of the village that had betrayed the location of Olrox’s lover—not to mention Julia’s injury and Richter’s abduction. Ironic, how Olrox and Richter had adapted the history of that conflict to serve them.

“And you didn’t complain?” Julia asked. Again, the look of total incomprehension on her son’s face. “Having everyone think that you’re bending over for that monster?”

Richter scoffed, not even offended. “As you keep pointing out, I’m not human, mother. Most vampires sleep with their sires.”

Julia blanched. “If he touched you…”

Richter looked up at her through his long dark lashes, and his eyes were the same as his father’s had been, the dreamy blue of a twilight sky. He scoffed. “I’m not that interested, and Olrox has other things to occupy his time.”

“Like helping a vampire goddess conquer France?” she demanded.

The tip of Richter’s tongue idly traced along his eyeteeth. “Like figuring out how to prevent a vampire goddess from conquering France and expanding into the Americas.” He looked at her incredulously. “What, you think I’ve been helping Alucard and Grandfather without my sire’s knowledge?”

“Why would Olrox help us?”

Richter stretched out, straightening his body into a less distracting posture than the Catamite’s boneless sprawl. “Enemy of my enemy,” he shrugged. “The American vampires—the real ones, the ones who didn’t come over in ships these past hundred years—they hate the Europeans. The Native vampires live right among ordinary tribes. The vampires provide protection, and in return, the humans offer their blood.”

“I’m sure it’s very voluntary,” Julia ironized.

“Over there, it is. We don’t need to kill when we feed.”

Her hands itched for a stake.

“We?”

Richter shrugged, his disdainful silence so reminiscent of Olrox that she wished he were gone already.

“Fine. So Olrox is trying to protect his feeding grounds. Why hasn’t he dispatched that bitch yet?”

“She’s a goddess,” Richter stressed. “An actual, honest to Ishtar, goddess of the Old World. You know how many of those survived the death of their peoples in the Americas, and managed to stay sane afterwards? None. Olrox is the closest they have, the only power protecting what’s left of the Inca and Mexica and all the rest from all the incursions by slavers and Spaniards and people just trying to push them off their land. Yeah, he feeds off them. He gives back as much as he takes though, which is more than I can say for their fellow human colonists.”

“And he protects them by killing the colonists?”

“If you can think of a better response to soldiers who massacre whole villages, I’d love to hear it.” His eyes flicked to the girls still mutely listening on the stairwell, and he smiled. “Your Brandel has the right of it. Some systems are so corrupt they can only be cleansed through revolution.”

“It’s always the innocents that suffer first when the world turns upside down,” Tera told them, addressing Agnes and Maria as much as Richter. “Look at how many died in the revolts on Guadeloupe."

"Innocents were already suffering on Guadeloupe,” Richter retorted, fingering an iron band about his left ring finger. “What happened during the revolts was a fraction of what they’d have felt if we’d let things stay as they were.”

Julia paused, and let that sink in.

“You were there.” Bits of news she’d heard about the coffeehouses and pubs came to mind, and suddenly, everything made sense in a new way. “You and Olrox—you were the Reapers!”

The Reapers. The terrible witches who destroyed entire families, root and branch, who burnt down the houses with the white servants screaming inside them. They said they were vampires, who could be tracked by the bloodless bodies heaped along whatever roads they walked.

“We were some of the Reapers,” Richter corrected, not even bothering to deny it. “There were more than enough witches among the slaves to kill every last master on that island. We just helped out where we could.”

“He didn’t just turn you. You collaborated with him.”

Richter bared his teeth, in scorn or an instinctive threat display, she couldn’t tell. “Damn right, I collaborated with him. We were running south through the Western frontier, wild country filled with Iroquois and Comanche and all manner of hostile natives, and monsters so terrible even the Indians won’t name them, and I was a soft Aristo boy with a few magic tricks. If I hadn’t collaborated with him, I’d be dead a dozen times over, and then your Brandel would be rising as a Night Creature right now.”

“He’s a monster,” she reiterated. “And you let him make you into one too.” She wished she had staked him the moment he entered the room.

“Haven’t you been listening to a word Pepe said, Maman? We’re all monsters. That’s the only reason we’ve survived this long, and the only thing that’s going to keep Brandel, or you girls alive,” he said, addressing Agnes and Maria. He turned his focus back to Julia. “If you want to keep on pretending you’re all actually a nice normal human family and let the city burn with you, go ahead. I’ll keep my brother. He has a better chance of surviving with Olrox anyways. After all,” he flashed his fangs, “my sire never had a problem with losing his children.”

Julia’s mouth fell open in rage, but it was her father who reacted. He stood up to deliver an open-handed slap to Richter’s face.

Richter blinked calmly.

“Yeah, I guess I deserved that.” He slid off the bench, slipped on his boots, and began to lace them up. “Mark me though. You need me, and Alucard, and most of all, you need my sire.” He pulled his gloves back on, the heavy hooded coat, the swordbelt and the gauntlets and the daggers, and set the Catamite’s mask back on his face. “Normal humans aren’t going to win this war.”

He turned to leave.

“How can we get back Brandel?” Julia demanded, pulling at his coat before could go. He slid out of her hands like water, and turned back.

“You’ll stage an attack on the Manor House tomorrow during the day, while my sire and I are away with Drolta reviewing the Abbot’s progress. And you won’t kill or seriously injure the vampire woman you find with him either, or I will have to retaliate. She’s family. Alucard can give you the rest of the details.”

“And where are you going?”

“Out for a drink,” he said too casually. “I find I need it after this conversation.”

And with that, Richter Belmont walked right back out of her life.

-------------------------------------------------

(1) In this version, Richter meets Annette on Guadeloupe and helps her win her war. They're married (note the iron band mentioned on Richter's finger). She's not in France right now though because she was about 5 months pregnant when the priestess told Olrox and Richter they were needed overseas. She's far more tolerant than any woman ought to be about Richter getting his meals by sleeping around when there's no slavers to bleed.

(2) Despite his advanced age, Alucard is actually closer to human sensibilities than Richter because he was introduced more gently to the vampiric aspects of his nature and his mother helped him find 'civilized' means of managing them. Richter, on the other hand, was first raised by Olrox exactly as he'd have raised a young warrior he was training for survival, and after his turning, exactly as Olrox would have raised a vampire. And Olrox's understanding of what it means to be a good parent doesn't exactly align with human sensibilities of any era. So Alucard probably understands Julia's reactions better than her own son does.

[wittyvitale]

Maria's First Snow (A Fluffy/Mildly Angsty Castlevania Nocturne Drabble)

Summary: It snows in Machecoul for the first time since Tera fled from Russia. 5-year-old Maria is excited for her first snowfall, while Tera has mixed feelings; she's reminded of her beautiful homeland but heartsick for what she had to leave behind. But she does her best to make sure her little girl has a fun day with her first snow. Pure fluffy drabble

Author's Note: I just realized that I never posted this lil drabble on my Tumblr, so here it is! I want to try to write more fluffy fics featuring Tera. I love that woman so much. Hope you enjoy!

It was early morning in Machecoul, but you could hardly tell with the dense clouds covering the sun. 5-year-old Maria’s eyes fluttered open and she yawned. She pushed herself away from her mother’s sleeping form as she sat up in bed, still blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Her eyes were drawn to the window, and the sight fully awakened her; soft fluffy snow was falling outside and had already blanketed the ground.

“Wow,” Little Maria said in awe, mouth hanging open. She started to shake her mom awake in excitement. “Mama! Mama, wake up!”

Tera stirred and turned over. “What is it, Masha, is everything all right?” she asked, still half-asleep.

“Better than all right! It’s snowing, mama, it’s snowing!!”

Tera slowly sat up and looked out the window. Her eyes snapped open when she saw that it was, indeed, snowing.

“See, mama, see??” Maria asked, her enthusiasm only growing.

“I do,” Tera started, a small smile forming on her face. “It’s never snowed in Machecoul since I’ve been here. This is… extraordinary.”

Maria snuggled into her mother’s lap. “Is this what the snow looked like in Russia?”

Tera felt a small ache in her heart at the mention of her homeland. She hugged Maria close and kissed the top of her head.

“The snow in Russia is unlike any other snow in the world,” she answered wistfully. “But this does remind me of home.”

Tera hadn’t even noticed that tears had gathered in her eyes.

“Mama, are you crying?” Maria asked, suddenly concerned for her mother.

“Oh, no, no dear,” Tera blinked the tears back. “The snow is just bringing back memories.”

“Happy memories?”

Tera closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She locked eyes with her daughter and put on her brightest smile. “This is your first snow, is it not? How about you and I play outside? I’ll show you the games we played in Russia.”

Maria’s eyes sparkled and gave her mother an open-mouthed smile. “Yes yes, I want to play in the snow, let’s go right now!” she jumped off the bed and started running towards the door.

Tera laughed at her exuberant and adventurous daughter. “Hold on, Maria, we need to make sure you’re dressed nice and warm so you don’t catch cold.”

Tera grabbed a coat from the foyer and buttoned Maria up. She also took a scarf and wrapped it around Maria’s neck a few times. When Tera was done, she slid her hands to Maria’s shoulders and looked at her daughter lovingly. There were so many similarities between Maria and the sister Tera had to leave behind, but Tera pushed those thoughts out of her head.

“There we are, that should keep away the chill,” Tera said, caressing Maria’s face one more time. “Are you ready to have fun in the snow?

“Yeah, let’s go, let’s go!” Maria got on her tiptoes, opened the front door, and rushed outside. Maria was growing happier with each second. “Wooooow this is amazing!! I can see my breath, look mama I can see my breath!”

Tera stepped outside, wrapping her own scarf around her neck and smiling at her daughter. “Yes, I can see, Maria. You can see your breath because it’s so cold.”

Maria started spinning in circles, giggling with pure joy. Her laughter was infectious and Tera found herself laughing too. She knew one day she would have to tell Maria the truth about her past, about her sister, about why she really needed to leave Russia. But for now, Tera wanted her little daughter to enjoy being a child experiencing her first snowfall.

Maria fell backwards on the snow and continued giggling. Tera walked over and laid on the snowy ground next to Maria. “Well, this looks like a good place to start. I’m going to teach you how to make a snow angel.”

[arystyle]

OcéaneStyle et TessaStyle 📸😜😉😀👌👍💣💥⭐️✨💫🙈🙊 #arystyle #tshirtarystyle #breakdance #bboy #bgirl #bboying #freeze #machecoul #nantes https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck1WorNMNHi/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ladyandherbooks]

So thanks to @miracama who sent me the link to Sam Deats' twitter post where he confirmed that Maria is 16 years old in Nocturne.

I did originally think that she was 13 or 14 given how young I thought she looked but it makes alot of sense that they aged her up to 16.

Firstly I'm not going to mention Maria/Alucard in this post. Not because I hate it, (I don't) I'm just not interested in discussing this in the post.

Now I do think that it makes more sense to have aged Maria up to her mid teens as it now makes her the same age as your typical YA heroine. And that gives the writers more freedom to put Maria in more dangerous situations and have her involved in more mature storylines than the 12 year old Maria from the games.

It also makes more sense that Tera was so comfortable with Maria going to the Chateau to fight the vampires as well as organising her revolutionary meetings in the woods. 12 year old Maria simply wouldn't have made sense in these situations and I think that many fans would have questioned Tera's parental instincts if she had been that young.

Next it also makes Richter and Maria closer in age which also allows them to develop a deeper bond, one where they are more equal and allows them to fight side by side as well as hang out together by choice on a daily basis.

Maria being 16 also falls in line with the shows canon for all confirmed ships - they all fall for one another hard and fast, with those that conceive children doing so very quickly (Lisa and Dracula and Trevor and Sypha, the latter of whom conceived a child less than 3 months after meeting one another). Tera came to Machecoul and met the Abbott 17 years ago so Maria being 16 makes sense.

It also helps with her understanding and interest in the revolution and her ability to rally some of the people of Machecoul to this cause that she so clearly cares about. She's old enough to have an understanding of the revolution and it's causes and she's clearly been researching it for some time now and tries to stay informed, despite the delays that they have in receiving this information. She would now have been 13 when the revolution started and I do think that she became interested in politics etc at around the same time, especially afted she first read about it.

Finally, with a good chance of a time skip occurring it means that Maria can finish the show as an adult, with all the growth and character development that comes with it. And she can start making her own way in the world

[ruiniel]

When Tera says "I was born 4000 miles to the East, in Russia, by the banks of a great river", if for kicks I take modern-day Machecoul in France and track ~4000 miles East, that lands somewhere by the Volga river.