Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stars sprinkled about in the engulfing darkness shimmered down upon the land, dead embers still flickering in the ash where a fire once was.

Leaning against a snoring Trevor, Sypha blew a lock of her hair out of her face; squinting down at the pages of her book turned gray by the dim.

Alucard looked to be locked inside a deep sleep across from her as well, his arms crossed against his pale chest.

Yet as Sypha squinted in the deepness, a cold breeze fluttered through the covered wagon— the pages of her book flipping forward.

Damn’t!

Huffing, Sypha attempted to flip back to the page she was reading— the now strong gale whipping the book out of her hands out into the snow.

Sypha gasped, and groaned quietly.

Curse that wind—!

Leaping from the covered wagon, Sypha chased after the book flying through the winter air; her robes and hood dancing behind her as she jumped and grasped after it—eventually catching it.

Gotcha!

Smirking at her small victory, Sypha clutched the book to her chest and peered up at the white, glowing moon; blinded by its luminescent beauty.

Sypha’s smirk changed into a softened smile, closing her eyes as dead leaves swayed and circled upward past her form.

She took a deep breath of the freezing air—that refreshing coldness numbing her lungs.

How gorgeous...If only Trevor and Alucard were awake to see this...

Basking in the moonlight, Sypha allowed herself a moment of peace before that was broken by movement and a inhuman growl—Sypha snapping her eyes open and raising her hands in defense.

She dropped her book, fingertips meeting and glowing a warm red and orange.

Something is here...

Glancing around the wilderness surrounding her, Sypha summoned a hovering flame in each of her palms, searching within the shadows of trees and brush.

Not finding anything— She extinguished her flames with a sigh, biting her bottom lip.

Must have just been my imagination...

Well, at least I'm alone. 

That would have been really embarrasing if Alucard and Trevor were around.

Crouching down to gather her book, Sypha wiped a layer of frost off of its leathered cover before hearing a long hiss and movement from behind her; the bright glow of her magic swallowed up into a deep, never ending blackness.

Chapter Text

Dracula slowly approached his hall from the dim shadows of his castle, his council bickering helplessly beneath his burgundy throne.

He overheard the voices of Hector and Issac along with Godbrand and his vampire generals, sentences running into each other.

He held his head in annoyance; fingertips rubbing his temple.

They’re arguing like children...

“There will be silence in the court...! Cease this infantile arguing!”

None of his council seeming to hear him, Dracula raised his words to a booming level— red eyes turning into angry slits.

“I SAID-CEASE!”

The room went dead quiet at his screech of fury—the grand door behind the council opening to reveal a sultry figure against the light.

Dracula gripped the armrest of his throne, sitting down upon it with a huff.

The group of fledgling vampires parted as the newcomer walked forward, the council turning their heads from their agitated lord to that of a pale-skinned bombshell with blue eyes and white hair—the gold plates wrapped around her neck and shoulders accentuating her red dress and lips.

In her right hand, she carried a large black silken-bag—a red ribbon tied up at the top of it to prevent whatever it was inside of it from falling out— or escaping.

She paused to flicker her cool gaze at the surrounding generals and the two humans; the mysterious woman smiling up at Dracula before bowing regally.

“I am Carmilla. I have come far from Styria to join your war council, Lord Dracula.”

Dracula placed a fist to his cheek, his free hand tapping the armrest of his throne with his long, sharp nails.

“Your presence was requested some time ago, Carmilla of Styria.”

Carmilla gave a small, hidden chuckle.

“Indeed. But your mighty castle keep moves around. Besides this, my dear underlings were having trouble finding a respectable gift for you.”

Dracula raised an eyebrow, suspicious. 

“A gift?”

Carmilla nodded, closing her eyes thoughtfully.

“Oh yes, my lord. One does not simply attend Dracula’s court without bringing a gift...”

Carmilla glanced around at the vampires around her, eyes glinting.

“And with such mighty vampire generals advising and prosecuting your war—what use could you have possibly had for a regional ruler such as I?”

Dracula leered down at her from his throne, listening to her intently.

“Yet— your forces were still repelled from a single city-state.”

She locked eyes with each of the vampire generals, still smiling.

“Your generals are in disarray.”

The generals bared their fangs and glared at her, Carmilla continuing.

“So, I feel that, perhaps, it is time to finally offer my insights to your great cause...”

At this, Carmilla tossed the bag to the foot of Dracula’s throne, the fabric of the bag moving and shifting at the weight of movement.

The council gasped, Dracula standing slowly to approach his wriggling ‘gift’.

Leaning down to inspect it, Dracula carefully pulled at the red ribbon to which sealed the bag— a tiny, flaming fist launching forth from the bag to punch him hard in the jaw.

Ach-!

Dracula stumbled back from the hit as the council drew their weapons with hisses and sharp teeth; Sypha crawling out of the bag with a half-hazard tumble to the stone floor.

Dracula hissed lowly as he glared down Sypha, hunger alighting in his stomach.

A human...!

Caught off gaurd by her surroundings and situation; Sypha stood in frozen shock and terror up at a fully red-eyed Vlad Dracula Tepes; the King of Darkness looming over her menancingly.

Faltering in her spellwork from confusion and fear, Sypha attempted to conjure a weak shield of ice before Dracula smashed it with a mere swing of his arm—his hand clutching around her throat and raising her to his level.

Her feet dangled about two to three feet away from the floor; Sypha forced to stare into the devil’s eyes.

Hector and Issac approached the throne with their weapons drawn, Dracula raising his free hand silently.

"Wait-"

For what felt like enternity, Dracula examined Sypha’s face with a cold, almost methodical expression—her bright blue eyes sparing her from death—but not from feeding.

Opening his mouth wide, Sypha saw the wet reflection of her own horror in his long, sharp fangs—a scream she failed to keep inside her cut short by a bite to her supple neck; Dracula pushing her head to his shoulder as he gorged himself on her blood.

Unexplainable pain shot through Sypha’s neck all the way through her body as a quivering, euphoric numbness settled into her, her arms dropping limply by her side as her fingers and feet twitched slightly; Dracula licking messily at the wound he had made on her neck before dropping her carelessly at his feet.

The council watched with wide eyes as Sypha fell to the floor like a ragdoll, Hector and Issac watching as her entire body shook violently before forcing her to vomit; Dracula turning to them with a blood smeared, sticky face.

“Hector. Issac. Get one of the fledglings to clean up her mess, then go put this...human somewhere. I don’t care where.”

The two bowed, Hector speaking for the both of them.

“Yes, my lord.”

Struggling to keep her eyes open, Sypha finally fainted into her own puddle of sickness as Hector and Issac rushed to attend her— Dracula leering down at Carmilla from above.

“And you— I would like to speak to you alone. Now.”

Carmilla gave a wicked grin before bowing almost mockingly, her reply like a dagger wrapped in silk.

“Yes, my lord.”

Chapter Text

Wiping the blood off his face with a sleeve, Dracula stalked himself back to his study with a grave expression—Carmilla following after him.

The fire roared with the crackling of wood and embers as Dracula sat in his chair in front of the fireplace; his red eyes gazing deep into the flames.

Carmilla stood behind him at the doorway, her shadow long and stretched in the room.

“You wish to speak to me, my lord?”

Dracula let out a rumble from his chest before speaking, knuckles brushing against his pale cheek; the light from the fire highlighting his face.

“Tell me, Carmilla—do you see my efforts as something laughable?”

Carmilla hid her smirk from behind him as she approached him, shadow shortening with each step.

“Not at all.”

“Then why did you just show me such disrespect in my court, at my throne?”

Carmilla slunk around his chair, her fingers curling around the top of it as she placed herself by his side.

“What? Do you not like your gift?”

Dracula scraped his nails into his armrest, gritting his teeth.

“You know very well how I feel about my ‘gift’.”

Carmilla sighed, tracing her long nails along the outline of her lord’s chair.

“Pity. I thought a new human pet to dress up and fuck would raise your spirit—but perhaps I was wrong. Is she not to your tastes, my lord...?”

Blackness filled the inner corners of Dracula’s eyes once more, pupils shaking as he clenched his jaw; muttering too lowly for her to hear.

“Stop talking...”

Carmilla continued, folding her arms behind her as she moved to block his view of the fire; enjoying this far too much.

“Or is it that she doesn’t look enough like your dead wife?”

Seething with rage Dracula gripped tightly to his chair, head bowed.

“Get. Out.”

He said slowly, voice raising to a roar.

“GET OUT!”

Carmilla bowed.

“Anything you say my lord.”

Leaving with a sweep of her dress Dracula stood up as soon as he knew he was alone and kicked his chair into the fireplace with a crash; the broken man toppling over his bookcases as the fire crackled and burned to a simmering, deadly black.

Chapter Text

As Sypha was carried by Issac down the grand halls of the castle, she blinked in and out of a half-lidded consciousness—her vision hazy and blurry as her neck continued to bleed out.

She clasped her hand at the wound helplessly, her own blood seeping through her fingers to the floor.

Hector brushed a few strings of her hair out of her face as they walked, the forgemaster looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“She’s bleeding badly...”

Issac glanced down at her neck before ripping a piece of her robe off and offering it to Hector.

“Tie this around her neck. I’ll put pressure on it.”

Hector did as told, Sypha’s touch loosening as her heartbeat became shallow, her face losing color quickly.

She coughed and took shaky breathes of air, her thoughts stained with agony, confusion, and fear.

Am I going to die?

Or am I going to turn into a vampire?

Will that beast feed on me again?

Where are these two taking me?

Am I hallucinating?

Where am I?

Does he have Trevor and Alucard as well?

Entering into one of the rooms at the end of the hallway, Issac carried Sypha into his Lord’s chambers while Hector trailed behind them, Issac placing her gently on a rug against the floor.

Hector watched as he did this, glancing around the regal room.

“Should we restrict her in some way?” he asked.

Issac stood as Sypha shivered on the floor—teetering on the edge between life and death as he shook his head.

“No. She is too weak from blood loss to do anything. Leave her as is.”

Turning to leave, Hector joined Issac’s side; a question leaving his lips.

“Do you think she’ll live?”

Issac turned to glance over his shoulder at Sypha, thinking.

“No. Come, let us leave.”

With the two forgemasters exiting the room, Sypha attempted to conjure up heat at her fingertips and palm; the skilled magician lifting a shaky hand to her neck.

Must...stop...

Focusing intensely as she could, Sypha burned through the thin cloth and boiled the blood away from her wound with a groan and gritted teeth, her limbs going limp as she had finally stopped the bleeding; her body trembling.

Not moving an inch from her spot on the rug, Sypha slipped in and out of a dreamless sleep before finally awakening to her reality— the chime of a clock alerting her to her surroundings.

She breathed from her placement on the floor, examining the ceiling.

A brooding baritone came from the shadows, Sypha letting out a choked gasp.

“So, you have finally awoken...”

Oh God...!

Sypha rolled to her side and began to cough violently, the voice drawling on.

“Tell me, little speaker magician, Did you truly expect to be able to have a fair chance challenging me with your pitiful magic—?”

Sitting up too fast, Sypha held her head and tried to stop the room from circling around her; Dracula approaching her from behind to lean down and whisper into her ear.

“Or are you truly just as foolish as the rest of your kind?”

Becoming still at the breath against her neck, Sypha gripped her robes in anger and forced herself to stand; whipping herself around with a shout to perform a move she saw Trevor use on Alucard, her small but sure foot kicking as hard as she could at Dracula’s groin.

For a minute or so, Sypha just looked up at Dracula for a reaction—The King Of Darkness only raising an eyebrow as he stared down at her, unamused.

Realizing this didn’t hurt him, Sypha stumbled back from Dracula and instead tried to conjure up fire for an attack—only small sparks of little flames leaving her finger tips as she groaned in frustration.

As she attempted to summon ice spikes to launch at him, Dracula stood and watched her with an annoyed expression; Sypha’s words coming out slurred and quiet.

“Why...Why...Why won’t you...you fight me?”

“You are weak from feeding,” Dracula stated matter-of-factly, “Which already makes you defeated, and at my control. Sit down.”

Without even hesitating, Sypha stopped what she was doing and plopped back onto the rug; blinking in suprise.

I didn’t...Did he just—?

Dracula glided past her to a chair in front of her, the vampire sitting down with a grunt.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a long sigh, Sypha still cradling her head.

She glanced up at him, breathing heavily.

“Am I...am I going to turn? Into a vampire?”

Dracula answered her without looking down, grumbling.

“No, you will not. Tell me your name.”

Sypha replied to him without missing a beat, the words spilling out of her mouth.

“Sypha Belnades—“

She covered her lips with a hand, frightened.

What on earth—!?

Dracula nodded at this with a hum, folding his hands.

“Well Sypha Belnades, it seems you have been placed into a rather... ‘unpleasant’ situation. And although I feel no remorse, nor kindess for humans—I have found that I am unable to end your pitiful existence.”

“W-What—?”

“Therefore, you will remain as my prisoner and a reliable source of blood until the day you shrivel up to nothing and die. So—“

Standing up, Dracula grabbed Sypha by the front of her robes and lifted her to his face, Sypha still struck with terror as he breathed, hissing lowly.

“Consider yourself lucky.”

Chapter Text

Alucard snapped his eyes open, sensing an odd feeling of distress.

Sypha—!

He sat up and looked around the dark covered wagon, Trevor still snoring away.

He touched his arm, shaking him.

“Belmont. Awaken!”

Trevor snored louder.

Really? How very ‘Trevor’ of him...

Alucard sighed and punched Trevor in the groin, Trevor awakening with a choked cry of pain.

“Aw fuck—! I told you shitbags to leave my goddamn testicles alone—!”

He gripped his crotch, Alucard speaking in an urgent voice.

“Shut up about your testicles, Belmont. Our speaker magician is gone from the covered wagon.”

Trevor blinked up at him, irritation growing on his face.

“And? She probably just got up to piss—“

Alucard shook his head, brown furrowed as he waded through a lake of his own thoughts.

“No, Sypha wouldn’t do that—“

Trevor raised a brow.

“Piss?”

Alucard rolled his eyes.

“God you’re dumb— No, Belmont—I mean that she wouldn’t just get up in the middle of the night without awakening one of us to tell. It’s what we agreed on.”

Trevor leaned back into the wagon, hands behind his head in bliss.

“She’s fine—“

“No, she is not Belmont,” Alucard insisted.

“I can feel it—“

“Like how you can hear the animals humping in the undergrowth?” Trevor asked mockingly, “Or is this a different kind of weird fucking power you have—?”

Alucard glared heavily at him.

“Don’t make me rip your jugular out, Belmont—“

Trevor sighed, too tired to argue.

“Look, how about we just wait a couple of hours? If she’s not back by sunrise—then we’ll start to fucking worry or panic or some shit. Until then, I’m going back to fucking

sleep—“

Alucard growled, swinging his legs down to the earth to leave the wagon.

“Fine then. I’ll go looking for her. You stay here and get your beauty rest, Belmont.”

Walking away from the wagon in huff, Trevor ignored him and attempted to go back to sleep; Alucard muttering to himself.

“Just don’t go screaming for me if one of my Father’s demons bites off your nose in your sleep.”

Chapter Text

It took Sypha hours to fully understand and accept that she was prisoner of her enemy now, and that there was no escaping without outside help.

Within the first two hours of being confined inside Dracula’s chambers, Sypha had attempted to escape the castle five times—the first time being through a large window inside Dracula’s room and the others by trying to lock-pick the door to his room.

When this didn’t work, Sypha tried for a sixth and final time to open the lock by force with a firepoker; the speaker magician slashing at the door and lock fiercely.

She paused mid-attack at the sight of the knob turning, Sypha hiding the firepoker behind her back as Dracula entered; The King Of Darkness only glancing at her once before sighing, commanding her like a misbehaving puppy.

He pointed to the floor.

“Drop it.”

Sypha tried to fight back against his words, her body shaking with the effort as the poker clanged to the floor behind her.

Dracula bended a finger to her, eyes dark and voice laced with menace.

“Come here...”

Feeling like a puppet on strings Sypha walked towards the lord of vampires and looked up at him with well hidden fear; Dracula pulling back his fist to punch her hard in the stomach.

Ach—!

Sypha recoiled from the hit into a ball on the floor—the punch to her gut forcing her vomit up nothing but spit and stomach acid.

Dracula watched her with no emotion in his eyes as she puked, the vampire folding his hands.

“If you ever touch anything within my chambers again, I will personally bite off each of your little fingers and feed them to the demons in my army. Do I make myself clear?”

Sypha used what little energy she had to raise her head up to Dracula, gritting her teeth.

“You...You are rude !”

Dracula blinked down at her, taken aback by this accusation.

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Sypha huffed out as she slowly but surely began to stand. “disgustingly rude!”

“Hours ago, I was sealed into the darkness of a bag in the night from my friends. I was kidnapped, and brought to you like a prize: and you drink half of the blood in my body, declare me a prisoner, and then beat me just for being in your presence! What on earth have I done to you to deserve this?”

Dracula loomed over her, fury in his eyes.

“What have you done to deserve this? What have you done to deserve my wrath? You humans have exiled me from mankind, burned my wife at the stake after she healed your sick and wounded, and you STILL have the AUDACITY—TO ASK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME?”

Moving forward to kick her, Sypha let out an involuntary whimper as she lifted her arms up in a pitiful defense, Dracula kicking her harshly in the side.

Her body flinged across the room against a bookshelf that nearly fell and crushed her, books falling onto her now aching body.

Dracula seethed, eyes almost black.

“I am going to rip your blackened heart out—and this time— you will not be spared.”

Hearing this, Sypha slowly pushed herself up on her hands and knees and placed a hand to her chest where she could feel her ribcage threatening to crack, Dracula gliding towards her with shaking red eyes.

She felt tears brim in her eyes again, her vision turning blurry.

He’s going to kill me this time...

I’m sorry Alucard.

I’m sorry Trevor.

I’m sorry Grandfather...

I’m so, so, sorry...

Bowing her head in acceptance, she felt Dracula’s shadow leer over her as she breathed heavily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

No, I’m not going to cry.

Not now.

This beast doesn’t deserve my tears.

And with little she could muster to raised her eyes to Dracula—death practically himself—muttering out her final words and condolences as she thought of Alucard and Trevor; Alucard’s mother coming to mind.

“I’m...I-I’m sorry...What h-happened...to your wife...” Sypha choked out, “I-I...I never—I only heard about her a little...People said she was a doctor...and a remarkable one at that. She...She was a woman of, science I heard. She didn’t deserve to be killed for helping people. Saving peoples lives...”

Sypha glanced up at him as she paused, flinching at his horrific glare.

“You have every right to be angry—but not at me, or humanity!” Sypha declared, “I did not kill your wife, and neither did all of Wallachia! If you want revenge, kill the monsters that did it and be done with it!”

“THAT ISN’T ENOUGH!” Dracula screamed.

Sypha looked down at her trembling hands, a weary melancholy pulsing through her.

She shook her head, words she never thought she would say spilling out of her as a strange realization came to her; eyes opening to the man and monster before him.

“Of course it isn’t...”

She looked up at him, sighing as a single tear fell down her cheek for Alucard and Trevor, shaking her head.

It will never be enough for him.

Because he is miserable without her...

All of this... what he’s doing...is just a suicide note to leave behind.

He doesn’t want to destroy humanity.

He wants to die.

“Of course it isn’t...”

Sniffling hard, Sypha stood bravely and faced Dracula, voice quiet.

“You can kill me now, If you wish. Drink my blood, beat me—I don’t care anymore. I just want you to know that I’m not scared of you.

From where he stood, Dracula stared down at her for a very long while—the vampire summoning one of the supernatural minions of his castle with a snap of his fingers.

The creature approached his master, haggard in appearance.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Take this girl to the baths,” Dracula commanded in a deadly soft voice, “feed her, and prepare a room for her to reside in within my wing; then strip her of those rags she wears and burn them. Do so before dawn, so that she may rest.

“Yes, my lord.”

Grabbed tightly by the arm, Sypha found herself dragged away with sharp talons past her own timely death; shock in her face as Dracula barely looked at her—lost in his own memories and thoughts.

Chapter Text

Finally alone to think, Dracula laid inside the thick darkness of his coffin; the lack of light and noise aiding his mind.

He could feel a headache coming on, the vampire running a hand through his hair.

The things that human said to me...did she truly mean them?

Or was she just trying to escape death?

He turned to his side, sighing.

Those bright blue eyes she posseses...they haunt me .

If Lisa and I were ever to have had a daughter... she would have been the product of our love.

The face of the human girl and Lisa appeared in his mind and he let out a shutter, holding himself as if he was cold.

He imagined the girl with the white-blonde hair of his son and a nearly indigo gaze in her eyes; her hair long and being braided by Lisa as he walked into the grand library to greet his girls—his son at his side.

He would ask her what book she was reading as Lisa weaved her fingers through her hair, his fictional daughter answeing with one of his favorite authors.

Dracula would smile and nod in approval as Adrian would begin to tease his younger sister, poking her nose playfully.

His daughter would reply with a witty comment to her brother—and Adrian would retort something just as clever back— Lisa scolding them for arguing.

Then, when Lisa was finished with her hair, the girl would stand proudly and twirl for her brother and father; asking them what they thought of her beautiful braid.

Dracula would compliment her and his wife’s work while Adrian would disagree and make a distasteful jest.

His sister would then draw the short sword from the scabbard at her waist and point at it at her brother, challenging him.

Adrian would then do the same with his long sword as they began to fight inside the library; Dracula shooing them out into the courtyard to practice their fencing as they chased after each other with delight, weapons clashing.

Dracula then would wrap and arm around Lisa—his Lisa— and they would go out to the balcony to watch their intelligent, miraculous children fight...

Blood flooded Dracula’s eyes, the fantasy fading away.

My beloved... I’m sorry you could not have lived long enough to bear a daughter...

The blood dripped down his cheeks to meet at his chin, The King Of Darkness holding in a wail.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you...

I’m sorry...

I’m so sorry...

Grieving a life he could have had, Dracula allowed himself to sob silently within his coffin—slipping into a dreamless, awful slumber.

Chapter Text

Lead down a staircase into a deeper part of the castle, Sypha was half dragged to the baths by Dracula’s minion; tripping a bit down the stairs as he lead her roughly.

She tried to fight back against its claws but the creature was much stronger than her—the minion shoving her down into a steam filled, warm room and ripping her robes with a single claw.

“Hey! What are you—!”

Sypha clutched to the fabric around her chest with a gasp—patches of her peachy skin peeking out from the blue.

The short creature looked her up and down before pulling off her now ripped-robes and leaving the room with them; a large wooden door closing behind them.

Sypha tried to run after them but she arrived too late to the door—her fists hitting against the wood.

She groaned in displeasure, fists dropping to her side.

Great. Just great.

Laughter and voices echoed through the steam—Sypha turning around to listen as she carefully made her way forward—the heat parting to reveal a gorgeous stone bath decorated with precious gems and carvings.

The steam was coming from the hot water of the pool-sized bath, small steps leading down into the water as the voices became louder, Sypha dipping a single toe in to test the water before slipping in completely with a delighted sigh.

Her head swirled at the sudden temperature change, vision going blurry for a second.

Wow...it smells amazing in here...

She took in a deep breath as she watched colorful oils swirl in the water, her body refracted into waves beneath her as she quietly closed her eyes and let the water soothe her aches and pains.

While she did this, she also examined the developing bruises on her body as a familiar voice laughed; feminine naked figures outlined in the steam.

She turned her head towards the sound.

Who are they...?

Curious, Sypha slowly slipped beneath the surface of the water and swam closer towards the voices; the noises she heard muted and garbled within the water.

When she resurfaced she slicked her now-wet hair back and saw three women with rather pale-looking complexions bathing near a small waterfall that came from above them and poured itself into the bath—one of them sitting in a shallower part of—their ears pointed and fangs sharp.

Sypha recognized all three of them from Dracula’s council—the one with long white hair and ruby-red lips pointing her out to the other two who were wetting themselves beneath the waterfall; Carmilla’s ice blue eyes sending a chill down Sypha’s spine.

“Look girls,” She cooed aloud, “Our lord has finally sent his new pet out to play...”

The long black-haired general with pale lips glanced over her shoulder at Carmilla.

“Truly? Let us see her, Carmilla—“

The woman next to her nodded, moving away from the waterfall towards Sypha.

“Yes, let us see her and determine if she is truly the ‘human beauty’ you claim her to be.”

Wading quickly towards her, Sypha tried to swim away but was stopped by a light touch behind her- the black haired vampiress from before trailing her fingers down the curve of Sypha’s neck as she outlined the bite mark Dracula had left upon her with fascination.

How did she move so quickly—!?

She tapped her nails against her collarbone while the other woman ran her fingers through her wet hair, the two commenting on Sypha’s attributes casually.

“Your figure is lovely...” The woman behind her right shoulder claimed as she outlined Sypha’s jaw with a finger.

She gave a small smile to Sypha, Sypha unsure of whether it was friendly or not.

“I am Chō, by the way—and this is Raman,” She said as she nodded to the woman admiring her hair, “It is nice to finally meet you, pet.”

Sypha growled, pulling away from Chō and Raman’s grip.

She was still a bit woozy from the fighting and lack of blood so she spoke softly, the heat smothering her.

“I am not a ‘pet’...thank you very much—and my name is Sypha— Sypha Belnades...”

“Well, Sypha Belnades,” The familiar voice of Carmilla chimed across from her, “If you’re not a pet—then what are you to Vlad Dracula Tepes?”

Sypha huffed and waded towards the shallow part of the bath where Carmilla was lounging, Raman and Chō following after in interest.

“A prisoner.” Sypha answered tiredly as she stared at Carmilla’s naked form.

She blinked sleepily, her voice finally causing her to think back a couple of hours ago.

“Are you the one that kidnapped me?”

Carmilla hummed, Chō and Raman joining the two as they listened absently, Raman settling next to Carmilla.

“Why, aren’t you a clever girl—“ Carmilla cooed, “Yes, I did kidnap you—well, my underlings did.”

“Why?”

Carmilla reached forward to tilt Sypha’s chin, smiling as warmly as she could.

“Because you are beautiful. And if you are a good to our lord Dracula, you will remain beautiful.”

With her other hand, she pushed back a string of hair that was sticking to Sypha’s face—her voice crooning and sweet.

“We girls—we have to look out for each other, don’t we? If you weren’t chosen for our mighty lord, you would have eventually died out there in that treachorous wilderness...with all of those terrible monsters flying about...”

Chō nodded her head in agreement with Carmilla, climbing out of the bath to sit on the stone as she brushed her long hair towards her chest; legs crossed.

“Indeed! A gorgeous girl such as yourself has no right to be killed like all of the rest of those haggard humans! You should be grateful towards lady Carmilla!”

“If it weren’t for her, you would have been dead hours ago—and not in the hands of a handsome, powerful lord.” Raman added on to the conversation whilst checking her sharpened nails.

“I was almost dead just a couple of minutes ago when I was inside your ‘mighty lord’s’ chamber.” Sypha snorted out carelessly.

Carmilla placed a fist to her cheek.

“Oh, do tell how—is Dracula just as rough of a lover as he is as a man?”

Sypha furrowed her brow.

“W-What—?”

“Was he actually skilled,” Chō asked from afar as Sypha turned to look up at her, “or was it just a senseless pounding?”

Raman glanced up at Chō, leaning against the stone wall of the bath lazily.

“I have found that most men of Dracula’s height tend to lack skill in the art of lovemaking to rely solely on the size of their phallus.”

Chō tilted her head at this.

“Oh, really? Then, that must explain why Godbrand—“

“That would be enough, Chō.” Carmilla snapped up at the vampiress with a slight chuckle.

“We all know that Godbrand has no skill except for making boats. Obviously.”

Chō and Raman giggled at this as their fangs glistened, Carmilla turning back to Sypha.

“What I was asking was: Is he rough in bed?”

Sypha just stared at her dumbly—not fully processing what she just said.

Carmilla noticed the vacant look on Sypha’s face, rolling her eyes and sighing.

“Did you even have sex with him?”

Sypha blinked at the word ‘sex’ and ‘him’ her stomach twisting into a big terrible knot at the idea of having sex with Dracula—more or less Alucard’s father.

She recoiled and gagged in disgust as images and came to her mind; this awakening her from her zombie-like state.

“Oh God—! Oh GOD no! Why on earth would you—!? Why on earth would I let him—He’s old enough to be one of my ancestors for God’s sake! He’s probably—How dare you!”

The three vampires laughed at Sypha’s childish rage as she smacked the water and crossed her arms, the laughter dying down after Carmilla touched the now visible bruises on her arms and face, fingers suprisingly gentle.

“It these bruises were not from sex, then what were they from?”

Sypha rubbed her arm, lids becoming oddly heavy.

“Oh...It’s...it is nothing he... he just... beat me...and...ah...”

Sypha’s vision went black for a second as her body attempted to go limp, Carmilla grabbing her before she could and pulling her out of the water to rest against the cool stone floor of the baths for a while, Chō leaving her spot to wrap her in a white fluffy towel as Raman helped her to stand, the three women now in towels or robes.

Body slipping back into an agonizing pain, Sypha cringed as she attempted to stand; Carmilla scooping her up into her arms and carrying her bridal style out of the baths, the vampiress stroking her still-wet hair.

“Don’t worry about walking now. You are much too weak to do so. I was hoping my lord would take an immediate liking to you—you are such a pretty little thing— but perhaps he just needs to become acquainted with you.”

Carmilla than smiled to herself, Chō and Raman having a idle conversation behind them.

“Yes...’acquainted’...”

Chapter Text

As Sypha was carried out of the baths: Carmilla, Chō, and Raman brought her to her assigned room, a rather ugly gargoyle showing them the way.

Carmilla placed Sypha onto the silk sheets of a beautiful canopy bed as Chō and Raman examined the room, regal paintings and other curious ornaments decorating and adorning the it.

Chō opened a sleek-wooded dresser by the bed and peered inside it, brushing her fingers through her hair.

“Carmilla? Should we dress her?”

Carmilla merely nodded in response as Raman joined Chō’s side; the women slipping Sypha into a white frilled nightgown that made her look like a doll, Carmilla slipping Sypha under the covers of her bed as she stirred lightly—Carmilla twirling her ginger locks in her long fingernails.

“Don’t worry dear, you’ll be taken care of...”

As she said this, one of the minions came in with food and drink on a silver platter; Hector striding behind.

Hector nodded at the generals as he entered, his blue eyes meeting Carmilla’s.

“Carmilla.”

Carmilla smiled.

“Hector...”

The minion placed the platter of food on the bed next to Sypha, Hector turning to the women to wave them away.

“Your presence here is not needed anymore. Please leave.”

Raman crossed her arms.

“What about you?”

Hector paused, folding his hands behind him.

“Dracula has ordered me—and only me— to supervise her for the time being. Do not make me ask again.”

Sighing, Carmilla and the women left as Hector closed the door behind them; Sypha attempting to sit up against the fluffy pillows as the minion stood by silently.

Hector sat down on the bed next to her before picking out a steaming teacup of something from the platter and handing it to Sypha; her thin fingers trembling as she accepted it.

“Thank you...”

Hector stared at for a long moment as she took small sips from the cup; taken aback by her beauty and sudden politeness.

Such a lovely eye color...

He blinked suddenly as he realized he was staring, awkwardly replying.

“...You are...welcome.”

When she was done with the drink, Hector took it away from her and handed her spoon and a bowl of some kind of red stew; stubs of meat and vegetables floating within it.

Sypha inspected it idly as she took spoonfuls of the seasoned yet metallic tasting stew—Hector watching her.

A long silence followed before Sypha broke it; regaining her energy slowly.

“You one of the men who carried me to Dracula’s chambers.” Sypha stated.

“You’re human, aren’t you?”

Hector gave a small nod.

“Sadly, yes. I am one of the two forgemasters that serve lord Dracula. My name is Hector—“

“Well Hector,” Sypha huffed between swallows, “If it weren’t for my state of weakness right now; you would be incernirated at my feet.”

Hector grabbed the loaf of bread from the platter and broke it in half— handing one half to Sypha and placing the other back down.

“Am I supposed to feel threatened by that statement?”

Taking the bread, Sypha ripped off pieces of it and dropped it into her stew, scooping it up in her spoon and eating it that way.

“Yes...”

Hector snorted, tilting his head a bit at her as she finished what was left of her stew, Sypha wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she furrowed her brow; thinking.

“So the other man with you...was he—?”

“Human?” Hector asked as he handed the rest of the bread.

“Yes. He is a forgemaster as well.”

Sypha bit into the bread and chewed, still thinking.

“Why are you two helping him then?” She asked.

“You’re both human...”

Hector snapped his fingers at the minion as it picked up the silver plate, Hector waiting for her to finish eating.

“Just because I’m human, doesn’t mean I cannot see the flaws of mankind and destroy it respectfully.”

When Sypha finally ate the last crumb of the bread, Hector turned to leave with the minion behind him shutting the door—the room plunged into sudden darkness as he spoke softly, a coldness in his voice.

“Goodnight, Miss Belnades.”

And then Sypha was alone in the room of Dracula’s castle, blackness surrounding her.

Chapter Text

As the worst night of Sypha’s life continued on, Sypha tossed and turned in the massive bed as she thought about Trevor and Alucard; her mind swirling with thoughts.

Do they know I’m gone?

Are they looking for me?

Or are they still asleep in the wagon?

Sypha then sat up in bed, an awful thought flooding her.

Are they even alive?

Disturbed by this thought Sypha took a deep breath and ran her hands through her hair—too nervous to sleep.

If that Carmilla woman is low enough to kidnap me, she’s very much low enough to kill.

For a while, she just glanced  around her room and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness; Sypha pulling the covers off of her and slipping out of bed to the floor.

That’s it. I’m leaving tonight.

Wondering if she could still possibly—somehow— still escape from one of the windows of the castle Sypha ran to the one beautiful window in her room and opened it with a heave—the cool breeze of the night whipping around her.

The stars glowed bright against the ink-black sky as the moon loomed overhead; Sypha peering downward out of the window to see how far it was from the ground.

She blinked, land barely visible from the window.

She attempted to calculate the height; mind reeling.

I’m about five four...By using my size... I would say that its about...a four-hundred to five-hundred feet drop...maybe? Ugh, Iv’e never been good with math...

Turning around, she looked around the room for any kind of rope—or at least—something she could use as a rope to possibly scale the castle and escape.

The sheets from my bed, perhaps...?

She touched the covers of her now messy bed and sighed, shaking her head.

No, no...I couldn’t get down there with just the sheets. Even if I tied them together it still wouldn’t be long enough...

She then looked down at her hands, trying to conjure ice.

I could raise platforms of ice and get down that way...

But when she couldn't create even a mere snowflake she gave up, still too weak to use such large amounts of magic.

Rubbing her chin Sypha then looked to the door of her room and smiled, her finger tips burning orange with heat.

Oh, I know what I could do...!

Walking slowly towards the door with soft footsteps, Sypha fell to her knees and examined it—a keyhole just below a golden doorknob.

I wonder if that monster put guards near my door...

She peeked through it quickly only to see a dim hallway illuminated faintly with candles; no gaurds or minions to be seen.

Sypha smirked.

He probably didn’t think I was smart or strong enough to escape tonight!

She then placed her hands around the doorknob, determination in her eyes.

Well, I’ll show him—!

Now focused from rest and food, Sypha easily began to melt the doorknob in her hands until it fell off near her knees, a small noise from behind the door confirming the knob on the otherside falling off.

Yes!

Placing a hand at the door, Sypha slowly peered through a crack in it and looked up and down the hallway; seeing no one.

When she felt safe enough to leave she kicked the door open slightly with her foot before closing it; butterflies in her stomach.

Out in the open now, Sypha carefully tip-toed up and down the hallways as she felt her current goal unhinge; an odd, empty feeling overcoming her.

At first, she thought it was just her loneliness poking at her once more due to being seperated from Alucard and Trevor—But then the feeling became stronger and stronger—each small step she took down the halls causing her to clench herself desperately.

She began to think strange thoughts that didn’t seem to be hers—a want she couldn’t explain at the tip of her tongue.

My lord.

My master...

Where are you?

When she could bear it no longer, She found herself walking back to her room but stopped at a door that wasn’t hers—her hand moving to the knob.

Opening the door without thinking Sypha found herself stepping right into Dracula’s chambers as she looked around longingly—some of the fear and loneliness ebbing away.

She approached his closed coffin and leaned against it, knowing the beast that drank her blood and beat her was sleeping inside.

Suddenly, she began to tremble and struggled to breath—her heart pounding.

Looking around the room once more she felt she should be searching for something; her eyes landing on a black and red cape hanging on a coat hanger.

Without hesitating Sypha snatched it from the coat hanger and wrapped it around her shoulders like a blanket—her heart and breathing becoming steady as scents from her childhood flooded her—a hint of Trevor’s musk and Alucard’s naturally clean scent mixing with the smell of parchment and ink.

Now content, Sypha left the room with the large cape trailing behind her and returned to her old room where she sunk into the wonderfully smelling cape; a faint scent of what she could remember as her mother’s perfume and her father’s old books lulling her into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

For the entirety of the night, Alucard searching around the area of the covered wagon until the moon fell and the sun rose—the dhampir returning to the wagon to beat Trevor Belmont awake; Trevor’s eyes bulging open as he coughed and spat.

Alucard glared down at him, tears threatening to fall.

“Sypha has not returned. She is gone.”

Trevor grumbled, sitting up.

“Are you absolutely fucking sure about that? Or is she just lost somewhere?”

Alucard grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him from the wagon violently; Trevor falling to the ground with a gasp.

Alucard hissed down at him.

“You know damn well Sypha wouldn’t get lost! This is all of your fault!”

Trevor blinked up at him, blue eyes ablaze as he stood, growling.

“My fault —!?”

“Yes,” Alucard spat out as he got right into Trevor’s face, “If you just would have helped me look for her last night, she wouldn’t be missing! She would still be here!”

Trevor clenched his jaw, not appreciating the accusation.

“Get out of my face—“

“Or what, Belmont?” Alucard mocked, “What are you going to do? Punch me again—?”

Suddenly, Trevor did just that as he pulled back his fist and hit Alucard square in the jaw; he dhampir falling back onto the ground with a grunt.

Trevor cracked his knuckles, a smirk on his face as be leered down at Alucard.

“Something like that....”

Alucard looked up at him with a burning hatred, suddenly recalling Sypha and and her soft eyes and face; her voice still echoing inside his head even now.

No...She wouldn’t want us to fight. Not now, anyway...

Do not let your anger defer you, Alucard...

Trevor approached him, arms crossed.

“What is it, vampire?” He asked with a mocking tone, “No bite in ya today?”

God he’s an idiot...

About to retort an answer to the Belmont, the dhampir heard the whiney of a horse in the distance along with the fast pace of hooves against the ground; a young peasant girl atop a stallion nearly trampling the two men as the girl pulled at the wild mane of the rearing horse.

Trevor almost instinctively jumped in front of Alucard and shielded him as he tried to calm the horse; the stallion huffing in anger as the girl fell off of the back of the beast with a scream.

Oh no—!

Alucard leaped forward to catch the  young girl before she hit the earth; her green eyes staring up at him in wonder and fear.

Trevor calmed the stallion down with hushed words and muzzle rubs; Alucard gently placing the girl down to her feet before examining her, the child’s dress covered in stains and dirt.

He rolled his eyes up and down her as she nervously adjusted her light brown braids, fingers twitching.

“I-Im...I’m so deeply sorry, sirs—“

Trevor turned to her, huffing.

“What on earth is a little girl like yourself riding a horse bareback like that?” he asked, “You could have fucking killed yourself—!

Alucard shot a glare at Trevor for cursing, the girl looking up at Trevor’s rather massive form as he stalked towards her; the stallion behind him grazing calmly.

“M-My f-f-family...we...we t-tame...h-horses...” The girl explained, “...father w-wanted me to...”

Trevor hummed in undestanding, Alucard brushing a few strands of hair out of the girl’s face.

“Do you feel hurt anywhere?”

She flinched at his touch, eyes wide as she blushed.

“N-No...”

She looked around with terror in her eyes, muttering as she moved away from Alucard towards the horse.

“I-Im terribly sorry...b-but I’m...I’m n-n-not supposed to be outside in the daylight...where the m-monsters can s-see me...”

Trevor watched as the girl struggled to climb the horse again, the man picking her up underneath her arms to place her on the stallion’s back.

“Why? Dracula’s demons don’t come out during the day—“

As the girl adjusted herself on the horse she gaped down at Alucard and Trevor, as if suprised by this information.

“O-Oh but sirs—Havent you heard?”

Alucard and Trevor exchanged slow glances, not sure if they wanted to know.

“Heard what, exactly?” Trevor asked.

The girl clamped her fingers into the stallion’s mane as her voice dropped to a whisper; her eyes glancing around a bit before answering.

“About D-Dracula’s minions kidnapping young maidens for him...It happened last night you see, in the darkness. Several girls and young woman—gone in a flash...”

Alucard stared at the girl in horror at what he had heard—Trevor’s brow only lowering with each word said.

“Where?”

The girl shrugged.

“All around Wallachia I suppose...They say he is c-choosing a new bride...s-so...If you either of you kind gentlemen have any daughters—please, keep them safe...I m-m-must go now...goodbye..”

Yet as the girl turned to leave, all Trevor and Alucard could do is watch her with mortified expressions; Trevor being the only one able to speak.

“Did we just get fucking cucked by your goddamn father?”

Chapter Text

It took Alucard and Trevor several moments to fully understand that Dracula had kidnapped Sypha—and was most likely— dead, being tortured, or being used by Dracula in...other ways.

The first two thoughts made both Trevor and Alucard sick to their stomachs—but the idea of Dracula using Sypha for his own pleasure twisted something awful inside Alucard; his expressions changing to a hate-filled scowl of vengeance to one of pure disgust.

Trevor on the other hand shook with rage and clenched his hands into fists—jaw clenched.

“Bastard...That fucking blood-sucking BASTARD!”

He picked up a rock at this outburst and threw it hard across the landscape before letting out a rather choked noise; the distressed hunter turning his back on his last partner.

Silence overcame the two as Alucard soon accepted what had happened as fact, the dhampir taking a deep breath before speaking.

“We must save her from my father’s castle—“

Trevor spat at this, whipping around.

“If there’s anything left of her to fucking save!”

Alucard’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t speak like that,” He said, “Please, Belmont—“

“Then what the fuck should I hope for?” Trevor asked, “That we find her bruised and chained to your father’s fucking throne like some prized bitch?”

The image Trevor described sent a chill of horror down his spine, the dhampir not knowing whether he wished to find Sypha chained up and alive or chainless and dead.

No...Father would never do something as cruel as that...

Would he?

Trevor awaited an answer, arms crossed.

“Well? ANSWER ME, GOD DAMN’T!”

Alucard blinked suddenly from his thoughts—not knowing what to say to Trevor, for once.

“Sypha is a skilled, intelligent magician. I have no doubt she fought back and is still alive, but If she is dead, we will find her remains and bring them back to her people. If not, we will find her, somehow, and take her far away from my father’s castle.”

Trevor huffed, somewhat satisfied by this answer.

“Then what the hell do we do now?”

Alucard looked around for the horse that pulled their carriage and whistled for it to stand and approach; Alucard taking the horse by the reigns before petting its muzzle.

“Exactly what we were doing before—traveling to the Belmont Estate.”

Chapter Text

As dawn approached and the sun began to rise, Dracula awoke from his deep slumber and sat up in his coffin; his long black hair tangled and stringy.

He grumbled as he stood up, running a hand through his hair as he grabbed mindlessly for his cape—his hands grasping nothing but air.

Hm—?

Glancing to the coat rack at his side  he saw that his cape wasn’t there.

He stared at this for a while before walking out of his chambers, sluggishly moving down the hallway until he stopped at the wide-open door of Sypha’s room; his red gaze flitting over the knobless, broken door.

He ducked his head into the doorway and inspected the melted halves of what was once a doorknob—Dracula turning his head towards the bed where a sleeping Sypha twitched and mumbled in her sleep; his black cape wrapped around her like a blanket.

Ah. Just as I suspected...

Approaching the bed, Dracula glanced down at the sleeping form of the girl and examined her—taking in her heart-shaped face and soft curls.

He twirled one of her more wavy strands of hair around on his index fingers—noting how soft and feathery it was.

Just like a doll...

Reaching forward, Dracula ripped the cape away from Sypha with a strong arm as she then rolled off the bed to the floor; Dracula pulling his cape back on as Sypha awoke with a yelp.

Breakable .

Raising her fingers in instinct, Sypha blasted balls of flame at Dracula with a single hand as he grabbed both her wrists and pulled them out of their sockets—Sypha screaming even louder as she rolled to her back and began to helplessly kick her feet at him, Dracula grabbing both of her ankles in one hand before leering down at her.

“You cannot win against me, girl! So cease these childish attacks and obey me!”

At his words, Sypha went still and sat up, clenching her jaw in pain as she stared down at her wrists.

“M-My hands—!”

“Yes, I know.” Dracula commented without care, “Perhaps they’re dislocation will teach you to stop playing with fire.”

Sypha glared up at him.

“I do not play with fire, you undead idiot! I fight with it—!”

Dracula chuckled darkly, pulling her up by her forearms to his height as Sypha’s feet dangled below her.

“Oh, do you...?”

Breaking them back into place with a twist of her wrists, Sypha gritted her teeth and held in her pain; Dracula placing her back down in front of him.

“If you ever attack me again within my own castle, I will permanently shatter your wrists and keep you chained inside my dungeons. Do you understand?”

Sypha flexed her hands and wiggled her fingers, looking up at the giant before her and nodding silently.

Dracula dipped his head, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Good. I will send one of my minions here to feed you shortly. For now, you are allowed to roam this wing of the castle freely. If you try to explore it any further, I will know, and you will be punished accordingly—“

Stopping in his pace, Dracula looked to the open window as white light filtered into the bedroom—the vampire sticking to the shadows as he bluntly spoke.

“Let me guess: you tried to escape last night through the window, but failed to think of a proper escape route and ended up breaking your own door only to be driven by our bond down to my chambers where you grabbed my cloak—by instinct, of course— and then pitifully drifted back to sleep in this very room.”

Sypha looked up at him as Dracula laughed mockingly, a cruel smile on his face as he whipped his cape off and draped it over her head, the vampire gripping two ends of the cape to press her small figure against his; his lips against her ear.

“How does this cape enrapture you so?” he asked.

“Is it the way it feels? Or does it have an intoxicating scent to it that you just can’t ignore? Most humans who are freshly bitten compare the belongings of their master remind them of a smell from childhood, or of the ones they love dearly...”

He placed a sharp-nailed hand to her back, Sypha shivering against his form as he pushed back the cape on her head and began to stroke her hair; twirling his fingers in it as he did before.

“So tell me little speaker magician...does my cape remind you more of your mother’s faint perfume,”

Sypha gasped at this with wide eyes, Dracula smiling wickedly at her reaction.

“Or of the pages of your father’s old books?”

Sypha slipped away from his cape as Dracula released her from against his form, figure rigid.

She looked up at him challengingly—rage aflame in her blue eyes.

“How...How do you know about that?”

Dracula chuckled lowly as he readjusted his cape back on his shoulders and turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“What makes you think I would tell you?”

Shaking her fists Sypha picked up the pillows from her bed and threw them at his back with a shout as he ducked out of her room, Sypha huffing as she realized her imprisonment, yet oppurtunities.

Chapter Text

As Dracula had said before he left, one of his many minions had entered her room to bring Sypha breakfast—the speaker magician accepting the same metallic food and drink she was fed before begrudgingly before leaving in her nightgown and a pair of woolen socks to explore; Sypha finding all kinds of fascinating rooms and places.

One of the rooms she found looked to be an apothecary of the sorts while another held glass jars filled with a foggy liquid and creatures Sypha couldn’t make out; another being fully blacked out with curtains  and a altar with candles and what appeared to be dried blood around it.

Only vaguely interested in these rooms, she continued at her own pace down the grand halls until she came upon a small library; the candlelight casting her shadow across the floor.

Sypha’s blue eyes widened as she poked her head in through the door—seeing all of those magnificent books lined up on shelf after shelf...

Within only an hour, Sypha was lounging against the red carpet of the room and turning pages as several books laid in a circle around her; Sypha tossing the ones she found boring behind her to the floor.

Most of the books she had pulled from the shelves were about vampirisim, werewolves, or other kinds of monsters—so she skimmed the books on vampirism for anything that would relate to a ‘bond’ between a vampire and his bitten victim.

When she seemed to have found a clue regarding her behavior she dog earred the page of the text she needed and turned to leave the room with the book under her right arm; her eyes falling onto a large violet cover sticking out from one of the shelves.

What’s that one...?

Returning to grab the book, Sypha opened it with a single hand and read through a few pages, eyes alighting at the information before hearing a voice all around her; something tall and dark moving out of the corner of her eye.

“I didn’t take you as someone who was literate...”

Sypha huffed, turning her head to see Dracula sitting lazily in an armchair in the corner of the library with a wine glass in his hand; a dark red liquid sloshing about it in.

Sypha furrowed her brow at the drink.

That is definitely not red wine...

He took a small sip from his glass, Sypha shutting the book closed with an annoyed expression and throwing it over her shoulder.

Ugh! Why does he always have to be so creepy?

“Well, I am—“ Sypha stated as she ran her fingers along the spines of the books before turning her head to him.

“Are all of these books about or related to some kind of monster?”

Dracula nodded.

“Yes. But, this is only a small collection of my books.”

“Really? Well,” Sypha said as she strode to him cockily with the book under her arm, “I’ve been researching human and vampire relationships in your books—“

Dracula snorted and shifted in his chair as Sypha stood before him, the vampire still towering over her when sitting down.

“Oh, have you now?”

Sypha dipped her head and smirked, opening the book to the dog-earred page.

“Yes and I found something rather interesting I would like you to hear...”

Clearing her throat, Sypha began to read aloud from a passage of the text, her finger running along the lines.

“‘When a human—the victim— is bitten by a vampire and drained of blood to the brink of near death, a emotional and sometimes physical bond is formed between the vampire and victim; specifically known as a blood bond. A blood bond has two stages between human and vampire before it is considered an official bond. Within the first stage of the blood bond, the vampire has access to the most vulnerable parts of their human counterpart: including their memories, thoughts, and own free-will. In the second stage, the human victim of a blood bond will develop a strong and sometimes unconcious attachment to the vampire and desperately long to be in their presence, or to be surrounded by their possesions. These needs can be lead on by visual, auditory, olfactory, and gustatory hallucinations—‘“

Dracula interrupted Sypha’s words with a snicker and a clap of amusement, the vampire grinning maliciously.

“Good, very good! Would you like a treat for that? Or a scratch behind the ear—?”

Sypha ignored his teasing comments and continued reading from the book, knowing it would greatly bother the King Of Darkness.

“‘—Once the human victim shows signs of entering the second stage, the blood bond is complete and the vampire can no longer (if done so before) torture, bodily harm or mutilate their now bonded human.’”

At this information, Dracula’s grin dropped almost immediately as he blinked at what he just heard for a moment; the wine glass in his hand slowly shaking.

Sypha looked up at him with a smug look on her face before Dracula grabbed her arm and pulled her up into the chair with him, snatching the book away from her.

“Give me that—!”

Seating her on his lap, Dracula crushed the now empty wine glass in his hand to smithereens and then took the book and began to flip back and forth through the pages with a grumble as glass shards slipped through his fingers to the floor; Sypha crossing her arms and watching until she noticed he was not reading the passage she had read aloud.

“You’re on the wrong page!”

Dracula sunk his nails into the book and suddenly shook with fury, teeth baring as he screamed down at her; hatred in his eyes.

“I KNOW I AM ON THE WRONG PAGE!”

But Sypha only shouted back up at him, face contorted in annoyance as her cheeks flushed.

“THEN TURN IT TO THE RIGHT PAGE AND QUIT YELLING AT PEOPLE WHO ARE TRYING TO HELP YOU!”

Taken aback by being ridiculed by a girl half his size, Dracula only blinked down at her in shock as Sypha rolled her eyes with a huff and shifted closer to him to turn the pages of the book to the correct chapter; Sypha outlining the passage with the tip of her skinny finger.

“Here. Right here. This is the passage I found. Read it and weep.”

Slipping out between Dracula’s arms, Sypha began to pick up a few books from the floor, her socks bunching around her ankles.

“Like I said before, I’m not scared of you anymore, ‘Vlad Dracula Tepes’. So go ahead and yell and scream at me. It won’t help you control me and it certainly won’t make you feel any better. For as long as you keep me a prisoner here, I am going to torment you—and make sure your life is just as miserable as mine. You will be my prisoner for as long as I am yours.”

Making her way towards the door with the books clutched against her chest, the speaker magician glanced over to the vampire lord who was now trembling with a worse rage than before; the cover of the book in his hand now covered in massive claw marks.

“So, either learn some manners or release me quickly Mathias Cronqvist,” Sypha said with a grin to Dracula as she kicked open the door, “Or I will make your existence more of a living hell than it already is, or before.”

Practically bouncing into the hallway, Sypha shut the door behind her and began to skip down the hall to her room; the frenzied screech of Dracula and the thud and crash of books and their shelves echoing behind her.

Chapter Text

After he had finished his latest tantrum, Dracula had to attend several meetings with his war council and try to focus on his next step in destroying humanity.

But his thoughts were filled with his prisoner’s threats and he found it difficult to concentrate, Issac taking notice of this as he examined Godbrand and Dragoslav’s maps of the land of Wallachia— lines and circles targeting cities and towns.

Slipping away midway through his own meeting, Dracula hid himself away in his second study where the shards of his glass transmision mirror hovered about in the center; Dracula touching them lightly with the tip of his long nails.

With a wave of his arm, the shards formed and sealed perfectly together in front of him—the vampire lord staring at his own reflection, thinking before raising his hand to the glass and carving a series of strange symbols into it’s surface, speaking softly.

“Show me the girl.”

Symbols fading away—the image of Sypha curled up in the corner of an alcove window filled his vision as she balanced a book on her knees, her cheek pressed against the glass as the light turned her hair aflame; her white nightgown a pale blue.

He watched her in silence for a few moments before hearing footsteps behind him, Issac’s voice projecting through the study.

“My lord, may I approach?”

Dracula folded his hands, eyes never leaving the mirror.

“Always.”

Striding forward, Issac joined Dracula’s side, his voice low.

“I noticed how quiet you were during the meeting...”

Dracula grumbled, brow furrowing at the mirror as Sypha turned a page of her book, blowing a lock of her hair out of her face.

“Hector and the rest of the war council noticed as well,” Issac continued, “So if I may ask, is something other than your grief distracting you, my lord—?”

Dracula answered quickly, eyes never leaving the mirror.

“No. It’s just...the girl, Issac.”

Issac lifted a brow, raising his eyes to the image of Sypha inside the mirror.

“What about her?”

Dracula sighed, closing his eyes to rub the bridge of his nose.

“She’s driving me mad. Ever since Carmilla cursed me with her, I have found that I am unable to control her.”

“Then dispose of her.” Issac replied.

Dracula shook his head, gaze dropping.

“No. I...I would not be able to...”

Issac turned to his lord, a serious look on his face.

“Why—?”

Cut off by a small fracture in the mirror, the two gaped as Sypha lifted her eyes up from her book and glared at Dracula through the glass portal; her right hand raising to glow an electric blue.

Issac stepped back, bourbon eyes narrowed.

“What is she doing—!?”

Suddenly, cracks began to appear in the corners of the mirror; Dracula unable to tear away from her gaze.

“She’s trying to break it—!”

Lifting his hand up in defiance, Dracula used his magic to revert the cracks in the surface as Issac drew his weapon and leaped through the healed portal to lunge at Sypha—Sypha shouting out in surprise as she rolled to the floor to avoid his attack; her book falling down next to her.

Yet as Dracula entered through the portal into the room, Sypha had frozen the area around her into a thin sheet of ice before Issac could pounce on her—the forgemaster slipping and falling to his back as his weapon slid away from him, Sypha pinning him in place with a foot against his chest.

Pulling back a fist, Sypha punched him in the face twice before Issac knocked her down next to him with a smack to her cheek; the stronger, more skilled opponet grabbing his discarded weapon and pressing it against Sypha’s throat as he climbed on top of her—Dracula placing a hand on his shoulder before speaking rather calmly; diffusing the fight.

“That would be enough, Issac.”

Issac whipped around to his master,  the sharp end of his weapon digging into Sypha’s skin and drawing blood as she glared daggers at the two, her jaw clenched.

“But Dracula—!”

Dracula cut him off, repeating what he said before with more force.

“That would be enough. I can handle her from here, Issac. You are dismissed.”

Hesitating a bit, Issac slowly but surely removed his weapon and weight from Sypha’s neck and body before standing above her for a moment to clean the blood off of his weapon; the forgemaster turning around and walking out of the room as if nothing had happened, Sypha spitting at the floor in anger as he left.

Alone once again with his prisoner, Dracula examined the room she was in and glanced at the ice that she had created on the floorboards before noticing the book she was reading in the mirror that had fallen to the floor—The vampire narrowing his gaze.

“How...How did you take control of my transmission mirror?”

Sypha blinked up at him, still cradling her injury on the floor as she feigned innocence.

“Is that what you call that thing?”

Dracula turned to her, eyes burning.

“Don’t play the fool, girl.” He slightly growled out.

“We both know you are more...’clever’ than that. Answer me. Now.”

Unable to refuse a command Sypha did as told, her answer feeling forced and quick.

“I found a book on transmission and distance mirrors in one of your libraries today—“

Flinching, Sypha looked away from Dracula as he glanced back down at the book on the floor before kneeling down to pick it up, the vampire looking to Sypha.

“Is this the one you found?”

Sypha nodding in response, Dracula opened the book and then began to flip through the pages aimlessly; his sharp nails scraping against the paper as he read the ancient text within— the King of Darkness undeniably impressed.

Miraculous...She must be one of the rare intelligent ones of species...

Shutting the book closed, Dracula leaned down and offered the book to her, Sypha locking gazes with him.

“Here. Take this and follow me,” The vampire lord said before standing and heading towards the door with a wicked smile, “I believe I have finally found a use for you after all...”

Chapter Text

Following after him into the hallway, Sypha practically chased after Dracula as fast as she could on her much shorter legs; the speaker magician finally catching up to him as she clutched her neck, still bleeding a bit from Issac’s attack.

“Wait—! What do you mean ‘a use’ for me?”

“Well, given the new information that you can read and fully comprehend a book written in an ancient language developed three- thousand years ago,” Dracula said, “ And show  strategy and skill in the area of elemental magic; I have come to the conclusion that you are very...’different’ than most humans of your species.”

He glanced at her as they walked; the vampire pausing at an large, opulent door that stood at the end of the hallway—carvings of the forgotten past standing out against the dimness.

“Tell me, how did you learn of the name Mathias Cronqvist .”

Sypha hesitated at this question, thinking.

“Well, I read it in a book I found in that library of yours,” She explained as she watched him lift one of his palms to the massive door, “It was...a book about you, oddly enough.”

The door swinging open, Dracula entered the dark room with a wave of regality, Sypha at his side as he chuckled arrogantly.

“Not many have the privilege of knowing my orginal name. Not even my dear forgemaster’s know of it’s existence...But you...”

He grinned at Sypha mockingly, fangs sharp behind his lips with a sneer.

“You learned of it on the second day of your captivity...Wouldn’t your parents be proud.”

At this, Sypha stopped in her pace and bristled with a small huff, Dracula continuing ahead of her as she looked around at the darkness surrounding her; unable to make anything out except for the large windows at the end of the room.

“Alright—enough talk— What do you want from me?”

With the snap of his fingers echoing throughout the room, Dracula suddenly brought the area around him into life as electricity captured in glass bottles surged above them while mechanical gears turned and rotated, Dracula standing before a hovering geometric...thing.

Whoa—! What...What is that!

In awe of her surroundings, Sypha cast her gaze across everything she could look at, smiling to herself as for a moment—just a moment—she had believed herself to be apart of of some unimaginable dream, far away from Dracula and his castle.

All until Dracula spoke, of course.

“Due to learning of your studious abilities and unnatural intelligence, I have decided that I will train and teach you to become the second heir to my throne and legacy. That is if you will allow me to, of course.”

Wait WHAT.

The illusion broken, Sypha widened her eyes and whipped around; his hand and raised once more to the floating geometrical sphere.

For a long time Sypha just stood there with her arms crossed, absorbing everything he had just said as her mind exploded with thoughts and questions.

Isn’t he immortal?

Why would he need an heir if he’s immortal?

What about Alucard?

Is he not considered an heir anymore to him?

What is he planning?

Yet as her mind began to settle, she took a deep breath and approached his side quietly; staring at the spinning geometrical sphere that now looked more like an odd dice piece than anything else.

“And? What if I refuse—?”

Dracula answered her without looking away from the peculiar still-hovering object in front of him; his voice low and blunt.

“Then I will dispose of you like the rest of your race.”

Sypha sighed  before rubbing at the blood that had now dried against her neck—the speaker magician grumbling.

“That’s not much of a choice— Why can’t you just let me go?”

Dracula growled, growing impatient.

“Because you already know too much—now decide, you are running my patience thin—will you or will you not become my heir?”

On edge from the pressure of the question, Sypha remained silent as she hugged herself and stared at the floor; feeling as if she were being torn between living and her loyalty to Alucard and Trevor.

Accepting his offer would mean I get to stay alive.

I wouldn’t be his prisoner anymore.

I would be his student.

His ‘heir’.

But It also meant I would be on his side.

I would be betraying humanity.

I would be betraying my family.

I would be betraying Trevor and Alucard...

Fluttering her eyes, Sypha felt tears began to well but she blinked them away; remembering the goal she had in all of this madness.

But, being alive is more useful than being dead.

Even when under his wing, I can still figure out how to thwart him and his plans against humanity.

And just because I ‘agree’ to become his heir doesn’t mean I’ll actually continue this madness of a war...

Raising her head   a bit Sypha grinned to herself as all of these ideas filled her head—plans of how to save humanity from the inside forming in her brilliant mind as she turned to Dracula; her decision made.

“I will.” she stated.

Dipping his head with what seemed to be a soft smile, Dracula dropped his hands from the hovering dice and backed away; Sypha now standing alone in front of it.

“Very well then. Your first lesson starts now. Tell me girl, do you know what this object is?”

Sypha shook her head, circling the strange object.

“No. What is it?”

Dracula folded his hands behind his back, eyes following Sypha warrily.

“It is a transportation device that moves my castle. I want you to use it, and move the castle yourself.”

As Dracula explained this to her, Sypha paused in her pace in an attempt to reach out and touch it.

“Where?”

But before she could, Dracula had materialized himself behind Sypha to stop her from touching it—keeping her hand just an inch away from the device.

“Anywhere you desire—just, don’t touch it, girl—“

Sypha bristled taking a step forward away from him.

“Fine—But quit calling me ‘girl’ or ‘little speaker magician’. I have a name you know...”

Lifting her fingers up as if she were to conjure a spell, Sypha focused her blue gaze on the device and tried to figure out how to use it; the speaker magician waiting for Dracula to instruct her.

But, the vampire lord only stood back and watched her, Sypha shooting him a glare.

“Well? Aren’t you going to show me how to use this thing—?”

“No,” Dracula answered, “I want to see if you can figure it out yourself.”

Sypha sighed, furrowing her brow.

“Oh, you are just the worst—!”

Then, closing her eyes tightly, Sypha thought of where she wanted to go; picturing it vividly in her mind.

Putting all of her energy and thoughts into the picture, she heard the cogs above her begin to crank and move as the castle trembled and shook for a moment.

When it had stopped, Dracula moved towards the windows behind the device that was now letting in the sharpened light from the outside.

He scanned his eyes through the glass to see if Sypha had actually moved the castle—and then—he slowly began to clap.

Sypha opened her eyes at the noise, looking to him.

“Very good, Sypha.” Dracula praised rather coldly from the window.

“Very good.”

Chapter Text

After moving the castle, Dracula dragged his new heir to his study where he chose several books for her to read; the vampire lord taking a seat in his massive chair while Sypha sat on the rug at his feet and and listened to him read aloud a book on astronomy and stars; the fire burning behind her warmimg her back.

Midway through the book, Sypha had grown uncomfortable from the heat of the fire and stood up from her spot on the rug to stretch her legs and wander about the study, her fingers tracing the fine wallpaper as she apprached a desk; a painting of a blonde haired, blue eyed woman in a violet dress holding what appeared to be lillies in her arms displayed above it.

Stopping to examine it as Dracula drawled on, Sypha leaned down to pull up her woolen socks that had bunched up around her ankles to her knees; the painting making her tilt her head.

“Is this your wife?”

Dracula paused in his words, glancing behind his chair to Sypha.

“What—?”

“This painting,” Sypha continued, “Is it a portrait of Lisa?”

Dracula growled warningly from his chair.

“Get away from there, Sypha. Now.”

Ignoring his demands, Sypha stood and stared at the painting for a long time—examining every inch of it from the profile to the background; the peach-colored paint that made up Lisa’s complexion turned rosey from the firelight.

Beautiful...

Starting to feel tired from the long day, Sypha let out a silent yawn and rubbed her eyes, smiling dreamily back up at the painting.

She looks a lot like Alucard...or rather, Alucard looks like her...

“She  looks  etheral...”

Silence mixed with the crackling of the fire before Dracula finally spoke, his previous warning tone now hollow and...pained.

“She...She was.”

Eyes starting to droop, Sypha swayed where she stood and stared at the back of Dracula’s chair for a long time before he beckoned her over, his voice commanding once more.

“Come here.”

Beckoning her over, Sypha stumbled forward to his chair’s side until she felt an sharp-nailed hand at the small of her back push her to sit in Dracula’s lap; Sypha laying her head against his chest as he forced her to listen to him read the rest of the book.

But, as the hours past, Sypha felt herself curl in closer to the vampire as her eyes closed she slipped into a blisful sleep to the description and names of the constelations—Dracula continuing to read to her unaware.

Chapter Text

Haltering his rhythm of syllables, Dracula paused in his reading to glance down at the ball of heat now all cuddled up against his chest; the vampire closing the book.

She’s asleep...

Staring down at her for a moment the dark lord debated on whether he should awaken her or let her rest, Sypha wriggling against him in protest as he prodded her with a sharp finger-nail.

Dracula sighed.

I should leave her be.

She has had a rather long day.

Standing up from his chair, Dracula tucked a part of his cape around Sypha and carried her in his arms like a child as he stopped to examine the portrait of his beloved Lisa—the vampire frowning softly.

Inside his head, he could almost hear her pretty voice and loving words.

“ Oh, poor little doll... She’s had a very fulfilling day with you, hasn’t she, Vlad?”

And in his own mind Dracula chuckled while Lisa ran her fingers through their sleeping daughter’s hair and kissed her forehead; Dracula cradling Sypha close as he rumbled out a response.

“Yes, she has love. I’ll put her to bed now.”

Then, standing upon her toes Lisa would place a kiss on his neck as she always did, her tone teasing.

“You’ll have to spend a day with Adrian tomorrow, or he’ll get awfully jealous!”

Dracula smiled, stroking Lisa’s cheek with a gentle touch.

“I will, my love. I promise.”

Carrying Sypha out of the study with a dejected smile of his fantasy, he brought her back to the wing of the castle where her room was, the vampire attempting to place her into her bed.

But— Sypha refused to let go of the vampire; the sleeping speaker magician much too attached to the cape wrapped around her to part with it.

Dracula growled, trying to pry her little fingers off of him.

Cursed girl...!

Unable to release her grip or take his cape off without awakening her, Dracula turned out of the room and began to make his way down the hall; sighing deeply.

Fine then.

If she will not part with me in sleep, she will part with me when she awakens next to me in a coffin!

Entering his chambers with a exhausted grumble, the vampire approached his coffin and opened it with his free arm; Sypha mumbling something in her sleep in his other arm.

Slipping into the coffin as carefully as he could, Dracula laid down as he usually did and then closed the lid, plunging himself and Sypha into a rich, enclosed darkness.

For a long moment, Sypha remained still against him until she began to toss and turn in her dream, Dracula grunting in annoyance.

Trying to ignore her movement, Dracula moved his arms to cross his chest; Sypha wrapping her arms around him loosely as she nuzzled him, breathing against his neck.

Taken aback by heat the human produced, Dracula let his curious gaze wander over her form as her chest and stomach rose with each breath and then fell with each exhale; the vampire mesmerized once more by life.

I have forgotten just how warm and soft humans can be...Did I truly use to breath like her?

To be as frail like her?

Oddly comforted by her presence, Dracula slowly began to close his eyes—lulled by her steady breathing and heartbeat.

...To be as alive as her...?

Chapter Text

Opening the door with a crack of his mighty whip, Trevor bursted into Dracula’s throne room; the room colorless and empty except for a blood red throne.

Seated atop that blood-red throne was Dracula himself—or, at least what Trevor thought Dracula looked like.

To compensate for his lack of knowledge on the beast, his dream world fleshed Dracula out to look like a taller, older Alucard; his red, golden eyes burning into him.

As he approached, weary and sweating— A gorgeous Sypha materialized out of thin air wearing a black see-through nightgown straddling Dracula’s thigh; her sultry figure through the gown making Trevor’s mouth go dry.

Holy...Holy shit...

Shocked by her appearance Trevor stumbled with his whip in hand as Sypha giggled and wrapped her arms around Dracula—or Alucard’s— neck, pressing her soft form against him as she played with his hair lovingly; complete adoration in her eyes.

“Do you really think,” the dream Dracula began in Alucard’s voice, “she would want someone like you?”

At this, Trevor fell to his knees—his whip turning into a snake and wrapping around his waist and chest as the voice continued to laugh, Alucard’s voice mocking and cruel.

“Some clueless peasant boy, fumbling over her in the dark...”

Choking on air, Trevor struggled as the whip stretched and constricted around him, Dracula caressing the gown off of Sypha’s blushing shoulder as he began to trail kisses down her neck and collarbone; Sypha purring at the contact.

“She wants a man—someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who can care for and entertain her...Not some drunken fool who can barely hold his own whip.”

Gasping for air, Trevor tried to scream out Sypha’s name as Dracula parted his lips; his fangs dragging across her neck threateningly.

“She doesn’t want you. She wants me...and you know what Belmont? I think I’ll give it to her...”

Biting down hard into her neck; Trevor awoke from his doze with a frightened gasp—coughing dryly as he gripped the reigns of the horses.

Alucard turned his head at the noise; the dhampir sitting in the back of the wagon as his golden eyes glowed in the dark.

“Are you alright, Belmont?”

Trevor took in a few deep breaths, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

God, I haven’t had that bad of a nightmare since I got piss drunk a week ago...

“I’m goddamn fine you bloody leech—“

Alucard crawled up towards the front next to Trevor, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Did you fall asleep while leading the wagon again?”

Trevor glared straight ahead onto the dirt path

“Shutup.”

Silence stood between the two before Alucard broke it, frowning.

“Was it a nightmare about Sypha?”

At this, Trevor glanced to the dhamphir; eyes wide in shock as he flushed in embarrasment and turned his gaze back to the road, not wanting to think of his own wet-dream esque Sypha seated on the lap of Dracula—or Alucard.

“N-No—! Why the hell would I—?”

“It’s alright,” Alucard said rather softly as he leaned against Trevor’s side, “I...have them as well.”

Trevor sighed as he heard this, not wanting to imagine where the speaker magician was now as Alucard crossed his arms, looking to him thoughtfully.

“Sypha...she...she has taken the place of my mother on the burning cross...”

The image Alucard placed in Trevor’s mind made the hunter grit his teeth.

“But last night—In a dream—I found her sobbing and chained to a bedpost in one of the rooms in my father’s castle. She was pale and thin all except for her navel—which was swollen with Dracula’s child.”

A wave of horror filled Trevor at this possible reality, his stomach turning in disgust.

God—! What kind of monstrosity would be born from Sypha’s magical abilities and Dracula’s powers—?

“Is that even possible?” Trevor asked.

Alucard nodded.

“Very. But I have hope that my father would never...stoop to that level of depravity.”

Trevor snorted.

“Oh, so declaring war on all of humanity and killing thousands upon thousands of humans—that’s just a couple levels above forcing an innocent young girl to carry and birth the literal spawn of Satan?”

Alucard closed his eyes in irritation, listening to the sound of the hooves from the horses.

“My father has done many wretched things, Belmont—but assaulting and breeding a woman like an animal is not one of them. Like I said, If she is alive, she is most likely being kept as a regular prisoner in the castle’s dungeons—“

“But why?” Trevor finally asked, anger in his voice.

“Why in God’s bloody fucking earth would your father: an immortal, powerful being, even want to keep a pretty, healthy human girl like Sypha alive? Hm? Have you thought about that, Alucard?”

Alucard parted his lips to argue but then closed them, brow furrowed in thought and worriment.

Trevor sighed, recalling memories of his hunts and the poor maidens that got caught in the crossfire.

Most were eaten. Ripped apart. Chewed and swallowed. 

But others were...were used for their own sickened pleasures and...and...

Trevor couldn’t handle Sypha being one of those maidens.

Instead, he wanted to see her as a princess locked away in a high tower—with him as her knight in armour and Dracula as the dragon breathing fire at the door.

“I know what happens to girls like Sypha in the claws of beasts like Dracula.” Trevor spat out.

“So please, for the love of fuck—just let me believe her dead corpse is lying around somewhere in that cursed castle untouched. Please.”

Accepting his plea, Alucard stopped talking for the rest of the wagon ride as Trevor blinked away the tears in his eyes; trying to focus on the dirt path they were traveling down.

Chapter Text

Two or so hours passed before Trevor spoke again, his eye alighting at a tree that they passed.

Alucard followed his gaze, Trevor’s voice quiet and worn.

“That...That was my tree. My tree...The one I used to play in all the time as a boy—“

As they passed it, Alucard turned to Trevor, brow raised.

“How...did you play with it?”

Trevor glared at him.

“What?”

“The tree,” Alucard continued, “How did you play with a tree as a child?”

Trevor rolled his eyes, sick of being with Alucard.

Rich kids...

“I didn’t play with the tree, I played inside the tree within it’s branches.” Trevor tried to explain.

“That tree was anything I wanted it to be. It could be anything I wanted it to be! A ship, a house, a place to hide...”

As they passed the tree, Trevor let out a whisper only he could hear; taking a final glance back at one of the few happy memories of his childhood.

”Goodnight, tree..”

The forest dissapearing, the horses brought the wagon down the end of the path to the ruins of the Belmont Estate—which was once a grand house—but now nothing more than some charred wood and rubble.

It looks just as it always has...

Trevor’s words became lost in the darkness as he stared at the place that was once his home, the hunter almost unable to move.

Oh...

Colors of orange and red filled his brain as an unmistakable heat pricked at his skin.

Oh God, not again...

He took in a deep breath, still able to smell the scent of burning flesh and singed hair.

...I can still hear them...screaming...

For a moment, Trevor became lost in the sight and he closed his eyes—trying to banish these sights and smells away; Alucard’s voice bringing him back to reality.

“Belmont.”

Snapping his eyes open Trevor looked down from his seat at the front of the wagon to see Alucard on the ground—two blazing torches in his hands.

He offered one to him, face like marble against the light.

“Let’s go.”

Taking the torch with a mere nod, Trevor slid off of the wagon and followed Alucard towards the ruins of his home—memories and voices flooding him.

Shoes crackling beneath the stilling ash, Trevor hovered the light of the torch around the estate as Alucard kicked around at the stained rocks and rot that once held a fine house; Trevor kneeling down to dig through the remains of his past.

Alucard gazed up at the stars gleaming above them; the sky black and comforting.

“How old were you when the church burned your house and family down?”

Trevor hummed, thinking back as he forced his expression to remain blank.

“Ten...eleven...maybe twelve? Who remembers that sort of thing—“

Alucard echoed his answer, back to him.

“Twelve...”

Trevor glanced over his shoulder to him, wiping his hand off on his shirt.

“Is there a point to this question?”

Alucard turned at this then, a wind catching strands of his blonde hair into a midnight breeze.

“No, it’s just...I am disturbed to find that my childhood was better than yours...”

Trevor snorted.

“And your Dad is fucking Dracula...”

At this comment, Alucard smirked wryly and Trevor grinned only slightly—the two then softly chuckling in the darkness.

Joining his side, Alucard began to aid Trevor in digging through the remains as Alucard soon felt something beneath the thick layer of soot; the dhampir handing Trevor his torch as he began to plow through all of the rubble—Trevor watching him in awe.

Heavy rocks thrown behind him like they weighed nothing, Alucard revealed a strange panel on the floor as he smoothed his hand over it’s exterior—mesmerized.

“Does this look familiar to you, Belmont?” Alucard asked as he blew dust off of it’s surface.

“You said the Belmont Library was hidden beneath the estate—correct?”

Trevor nodded, kneeling down to hand Alucard his torch back.

“Yes, but—not beneath anything...like this.”

Torch-light illuminating the panel Trevor squinted at the odd symbols and runes; the images not invoking any inklings in his mind.

“What the hell even is this—“

Scanning his eyes across the panel Alucard furrowed his brow as he hummed aloud, bristling.

“This panel is engraved in the enochian language...I need a...ward!”

Handing Trevor his torch again, the dhampir then clapped his hands together, a soft blue light glowing from his palms as Alucard placed them onto the panel and muttered something aloud in an odd language; the panel suddenly moving with a roar of life to reveal a staircase beneath it.

Trevor blinked at Alucard, amazed.

“Holy shit.”

Approaching it, Trevor peered down at as far as he could, the dhampir joining his side to examine the descent with a smug look.

“Well, well...naughty little Belmonts hunting all the terrible monsters in the forest while sitting on a magical door opened by an occult language...”

Alucard grinned at him, fangs and all.

“Quite the family secret you have...”

Trevor scowled at him.

I’m going to punch him right in his gorgeous fuckin’ face—

“It wasn’t a secret. I didn’t know—or remember for that fuckin matter— that it was goddamn magical door. It doesn’t make us black magicians.”

Gorgeous? Did I just think of him as gorgeous?

I must be losing my mind...

Making his way down the steps Alucard watched him, golden eyes glinting.

“But you do know the word ‘taeloch’ means of death, right? It was one of the words written on the door—“

Trevor closed his eyes, not wanting to hear it.

Oh Sypha, I miss you...

“Shutup, Alucard. Are you coming—or what?”

Following in after him, Alucard continued to tease Trevor down into the library—the dhampir enjoying pushing the hunter’s buttons.

“But it’s the magical door of death, Belmont!”

Chapter Text

Entering the dim of the Belmont library, Alucard looked around in the  neverending darkness for a moment before clapping his hands together; the fire from the torches flying up to  light the several candles along the walls.

Slowly, ghostly light began to fill the room as wooden bookshelves and glass cases coated in dust were revealed—Trevor slowly dropping the wood of what was once his torch to the floor.

It seems...different than from what I remember...

Glancing around, Trevor began to make his way down the staircase; Alucard matching his stride as he cast his gaze around the secret Belmont library—unimpressed.

“I wasn’t expecting the infamous Belmont library to be so...small and dirty...”

Trevor huffed, Alucard hiding a smirk.

“The fuck were you expecting, then? Polished marble floors and grand statues around every ivory bookcase?”

Alucard hummed.

“No. In fact I was expecting the corpses of cats and mummified dogs to be littered about the place. Tell me Belmont, to find the book you want, do you have to sacrifice a chicken and use the intestines in a spell? Or is it a crystal ball you use?”

Walking past Trevor towards the rows of books, the hunter shot him a glare; voice threatening.

“Shutup. Just—shutup.”

Leaning himself against a wall with a tired sigh, Trevor yawned and rubbed his eyes; Alucard already pulling books from their shelves and turning their pages.

Watching him, Trevor examined how the light hit Alucard’s face in the room and how it seemed to highlight his cheekbones and jawline; his long blonde hair turning shades of lignt gold in the glow.

As the dhampir read or examined a glass case or row of books, his yellow eyes moved like a predator in the night as his lips parted and closed in thought; his soft mutterings echoing throughout the underground library.

Yet as Trevor stared at him, his eyes seemed to land on the sight of his mouth as he tried to avert his gaze; his vision lingering on his lips.

I wonder...would his lips be soft and warm?

Or would they be cold and cool like the side of a blade?

Lost in this peculiar thought, Trevor imagined a fantasy in which Alucard turned away from the bookcase to instead pim him to this very wall with his wrist’s against his—the dhampirs fangs biting and nibbling at Trevor’s lips as he kissed him fiercely.

Then, after kissing him, Alucard would latch onto his neck and begin to unbutton his shirt; touching his tanned skin as he dragged his fangs across his veins while he—

Oh god, what the fuck am I thinking!?

What the fuck is wrong with me—!?

Shivering from this thought as shame overwhelmed him, Trevor shook the fantasy away as Alucard approached him, book in his hand.

“Is there a method to all of this madness?”

FUCK —

Trevor flinched, face flushed with embarrasment of his own imagination as he turned to Alucard, blinking stupidly.

“Uh, erm—what?”

Alucard sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Organization, Belmont—Is this library organized in anyway?”

Rubbing his face, Trevor nodded quietly—exhausted from traveling and lack of sleep.

“Ah...erm...yes. Theres a...Theres a lectern around here somewhere with an index I think—“

Raising a brow at this answer Alucard tilted his head, taking a step toward Trevor.

“Are you alright? You’re face is all red.”

At this, Alucard removed one of his gloves from his hands and moved in very close to feel Trevor’s cheeks and forehead; the hunter’s shade of pink darkening.

“Hm...You’re running a fever, Belmont...

He then moved one of his hands down Trevor’s chest, his heartbeat accelerating at his touch.

The dhampir paused for a moment, closing his eyes to listen and feel for Trevor’s racing pulse.

“And your heart is beginning to palpitate...”

Removing his hands from him, Alucard then placed his glove back on and walked away as if nothing had happened, his voice echoing behind him.

“You need to rest. Sleep, now—I’ll awaken you if I find any information that could help us find my father’s castle. You need your strength for battle.”

Trembling from the interaction, Trevor let out a weak groan and slumped to the floor eyes closed as he tried to imagine what would have happened if he had kissed Alucard—the last surviving Belmont falling into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

When Dracula first opened his eyes, he thought he was awake.

For what he was seeing in his vision was a book he has read before, the black text unreadable.

But then he lifted his head and peered around to what was a beautiful, glowing meadow—flowers blooming in the thick, green grass of summer.

Above him was a vivid blue cloudless sky and the sun— the sweet, unfamiliar babble of a child calling out to him.

“Dada!”

Vision shifting, Dracula watched as a tiny toddler that was no more than just a year old waddled over  through the grass and flowers towards him in nothing but a cloth diaper; her unruly red curls bouncing with each step she took.

And then a voice spoke deep within him that wasn’t his; warm but pale hands reaching out to catch the stumbling toddler.

“Hello my darling little Sypha! Have you come to play with Daddy today?”

The baby girl, who was Sypha, playfully patted her father’s palms and smiled up at him; her cheeks chubby and rosey.

“Uh-huh!”

He felt himself laugh, his hands grabbing the baby’s sides and lifting her into the air; the child squealing with joy.

“Marvelous! Would you like to fly today, Sypha? Or dance?”

Flapping her arms, Dracula brought the girl down against his chest; Sypha swaying clumsily.

“Dance! Dance!”

The voice chuckling, Dracula sat the child onto his lap before pressing his palms together and creating a small flame there that grew into that of an antlered stag; the flaming creature galloping about in the air as Sypha stood on shaky legs to twirl and ‘dance’ with the tiny flame—Dracula watching her intently.

When she had become dizzy, the toddler fell onto her rump and continued to giggle at the stag, clapping her hands until a tiny flame of her own developed between her palms and made itself into a faun.

Shocked by what she had created, Sypha cooed at the faun in her hand before it ran off to join the stag; the stag nuzzling the faun before sizzling away into ash.

When the animals dissapeared, little Sypha pushed herself up and pointed to where the flames once ran around her— her head tilted.

“Where’dey go?”

She asked Dracula.

“Where’dey go, Dada?”

Leaning over to grab the child, Dracula saw the hand that wasn’t his drop to the earth to run the pile of ash through his fingers; showing it to the toddler.

“They turned to ash, love. See?”

Staring at the ash in fascination, Sypha touched her father’s hands babbling gibberish Dracula couldn’t make out to be any language and then dunked them into the ash—her stubby little fingers and tiny palm grey with the remains of the stag and the faun.

She patted her hands together then, brow furrowed in thought as she stared at the ash; attempting to taste it with a lick of her tongue.

“Will...Will you and...Mama be ash?”

Dracula felt his head shake, his thumb wiping away the ash on the child’s hands before she could put it in her mouth.

“No. Only fire and things that it burns turn into ash. Now come along, let’s go find Mommy so you can show her how you can make ‘fire fauns’ now.”

Sypha’s eyes enlarged at this, the toddler stumbling to her bare feet.

“Ok!”

Rising to his feet, Dracula felt his perception of the scene change to third-person as he watched a red-haired man wearing blue speaker robes lead his young daughter out of the meadow, the man looking back to reveal his freckles and shining green eyes.

Yet as he gave a smile to Dracula; he faded away along with the younger version of Sypha as the vampire awoke with a soft gasp—the dream more of a lost memory.

Chapter Text

Rolling to her side in the dark, Sypha stayed in between the realm of wakefulness and sleep; the  speaker magician slowly opening her eyes to the ceiling of velvet inside a coffin—The King Of Darkness and Monsters sleeping right next to her.

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, Sypha stared at his still form as she felt around the enclosed space with her legs and arms; her back up against what felt like padded wood.

I must be inside his coffin...

Oddly comforted by this, Sypha let out a gentle sigh of relief and glanced over to Dracula, her hands folded at her lap.

She heard no noise from him whatsoever—not even the sound of a breath escaping him.

Is he...even alive?

Wriggling closer towards the vampire for inspection, Sypha pressed herself against his chest and fully examined his peaceful-looking face; Sypha pressing her fists against her chest nervously.

He looks so...different when he’s not awake...

He actually looks like...a man.

A heartbroken man, that is...

Reaching out to touch his neck for a pulse, Sypha felt her fingers burn with cold as she flinched and gasped; the sound awakening the beast with a grumble.

Red eyes aglow in the dark, Dracula glared at Sypha—Sypha holding back a shiver.

“Your skin is freezing! Why are you so cold—!”

Dracula wrapped his arms around Sypha and pulled her against him, the vampire taking full advantage of her warmth as he as he ran his fingers through her ginger locks; muttering.

“Vampires do not have a beating heart to produce blood that warm or cool our internal organs—and a vampire’s cells are different from that of a human.”

Sypha struggled in his arms, crushed against him.

“Let go of me—!”

“No,” Dracula replied bluntly as he pressed his lips against the curve in her neck, “I need to feed...”

Sypha’s breath caught in her throat at this, tears brimming in fear as she squirmed at the long sharp fangs against one of her veins— Sypha suddenly slipping out of his grip to push at the velvet ceiling and scamper out of the coffin to the floor; eyes wide in fear.

No...! No! Not again—!

Scrambling to stand, Sypha looked around for a place to hide or run; her eyes falling to a wardrobe across the room.

There!

Sprinting towards it, Sypha swung open the doors of the wardrobe and closed herself into the clothing and darkness that hung there, Sypha moving as far back into the wardrobe as she possibly could.

Dracula’s voice boomed through the dark oak of the wardrobe, Sypha curling herself into a tight ball.

Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God...

“Sypha! Sypha—Come out of there right now! You know what I told you before—That you will remain as a source of blood to me as long as you are alive—!”

Sypha screamed out a response, voice ragged with sobs and unspeakable terror.

“NO! NO!”

Dracula growled from outside the wardrobe, footsteps approaching.

“You can’t stay in there forever, girl! You will die of thirst or starvation before then—!”

Sypha held her head against her knees, tears spilling down her cheeks as she longed to be somewhere far away— her body beginning to shake from emotion.

“I DON’T CARE!”

Unable to control herself anymore, Sypha wailed and wept inside the wardrobe as she released all of the emotions that had hidden themselves within her since she was captured; her nose dripping and mixing with her salty tears.

“I...d-don’t wan...want to be here anymore—I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE!”

Continuing to cry, Sypha coughed loudly and listened to her own gags and heaves of air from sobbing too hard—silence between the vampire and the girl inside the wardrobe.

“I...I-I miss m-my people...I miss my grandpa...” She mumbled to herself between now quiet sobs.

“I miss Trevor and Alucard...”

Words spoken into the deepness, Sypha hugged her arms tightly around her knees and sniffled and shuttered between weak cries, the doors of the wardrobe opening with a creak to reveal something rolling across the wooden bottom towards Sypha; the object stopping at her foot.

H-Huh?

Sypha raised her head up slightly to peer down at it, her trembling hand clasping around something soft and slightly fuzzy.

A sliver of light filling the wardrobe from the partly open doors, Sypha raised it to the ray stretched out before her; the gleam revealing it to be a large, ripe peach.

Dracula spoke from outside the crack in the wardrobe— his voice oddly calm.

“My minions have beought your food this morning to me. Those are your favorite to consume—are they not?”

Sypha flinched when she heard him, pausing to take a slow bite of the peach.

“Y-Yes...they are...”

Dracula hummed at this, the vibratto calming her a bit.

“When I was your age, I favored pomegranates.”

Tears still falling, Sypha savored the sweet taste of the peach with each new bite, shivering and numb from her recent breakdown.

“I-Ive...I’ve never had a pomegranate before...”

“Come out of the wardrobe and I’ll let you taste one.” Dracula offered.

“I won’t bite...”

Sypha scoffed from where she was, juice from the peach dribbling down her chin as she licked her lips; her fingers becoming sticky.

“Liar...I bet you don’t even have a pomegranate...”

At this, a second object was tossed and rolled into the wardrobe, a blood red fruit stopping in the light.

Sypha widened her eyes, still chewing a mouthful of the peach.

He really does have one—!

Stuffing the half-eaten peach into her mouth, she crawled towards the rare, red fruit and picked it up; the wardrobe doors fully opening to reveal Sypha to Dracula—her white nightgown stained with peach juice and tears she had shed.

Kneeling down in front of her, Dracula met her blue with his red as a silver platter filed with food laid next to him; the vampire taking the pomegranate in hand.

“For now on, as long you are willing to learn from me—I will not feed from you anymore.” Dracula said as he split the pomegranate perfectly in half.

“Today, you are to be presented to the court as my heir. You will congregate and accept each of the vampires from my court as your tutors, and respect them as you respect me. You will attend and listen to our meetings. You will be brilliant, and you will be beautiful. Do you understand?”

Looking up at him with her cheeks stained and the peach still in her mouth, Sypha nodded her head; Dracula taking the peach out of her mouth so she could speak.

“Y-Yes...I understand...Master...”

Dipping his head, the King of Darkness then grabbed a spoon from the platter and began to feed Sypha the seeds of the pomegranate as he wiped away her remaining tears with his thumb; Sypha accepting the peace offering in bitter, tart silence.

Chapter Text

After Dracula had finished feeding her, Sypha ate the rest of her breakfast and then was whisked away to be bathed and then dressed in her room—minions from Dracula’s castle scrubbing her body down in the baths with richly soaps and oils before lacing her up into a corset; the red-haired succubus—who had told Sypha her name was Lilith—pulling the strings and giggling at her gasps with each pull of the white laces.

“Such delicious little sounds you make...” She cooed as Sypha struggled to breath.

“No wonder Lord Dracula keeps you!”

Sypha let out a little huff as she stood up straight, her face still pink from the bath and crying.

“Do I really have to wear this? It hurts—!”

Scoffing at this, Lilith tied a white petticoat around Sypha’s hips before preparing a light blue dress for her to put on; her voice soothing to the ear.

“A young lady of fine standing and breeding must always wear a corset beneath her dress—now, arms up.”

Doing as told, Sypha raised her arms to the ceiling while the succubus slipped the dress on over her head, hands, and wrists and then pulled it down all the way to her feet; the dress flowing out to the floor.

After Lilith had smoothed out any wrinkles in her dress—she brushed out Sypha’s curls with a comb and then began to braid Sypha’s bangs, Sypha noticing how her hair had miraculously grown half an inch in only two days.

She reached her fingers up to touch her now chin-length hair—shocked.

How has it gotten so long so quickly—!?

Pulling back the braided tresses, the succubus then grabbed a dainty blue ribbon and tied them together, the ribbon a loose bow in her hair as she pushed Sypha to a mirror; Lilith smiling behind her playfully as she squeezed her shoulders—Sypha staring deeply at the stranger she had created in front of her.

“There...now you look like a true heiress to Lord Dracula’s throne!”

Rolling her eyes up and down her form, Sypha examined her outfit in the mirror—her figure turned frail and girlish from the baby blue colors of her dress and her flushed cheeks and nose— the blue ribbon and braids in her hair making her look like a delicate porcelain doll.

She made me look like a little girl...

Seething, Sypha stubbornly crossed her arms as the succubus led Sypha to sit upon a chair in the corner of the room; Dracula entering the room.

“Lilith, do you have her ready yet?”

The demoness half nodded, hitching up Sypha’s dress to reveal her bare, bruised legs.

“Almost. Just need to put the little princess in her stockings and shoes—“

Sypha glared down at Lilith, huffing viciously.

“I am not a princess—!”

Lilith only chuckled at this whilst slipping Sypha into long, white stockings and a pair of blue flats, Dracula approaching the two as he leered down at Sypha, Lilith tying matching blue ribbons just above her knees to keep her stockings in place.

Dracula gazed at her for a moment before lifting her face to his with the tips of his fingers beneath her chin as he turned her face with a gentle touch; examining her thoughtfully.

He hummed aloud, brushing a thumb across her smooth, silky cheek.

“Gorgeous...”

Sypha avoided his gaze as she felt his fingers run through her now straightened hair; the monster pressing the strands to his lips in what seemed to be a kiss.

He glanced to Lilith, eyes burning.

“That will be all for now, Lilith. You are dismissed.”

Finished with her stockings, the succubus stood and bowed to Dracula before leaving the room; her voice sultry with grattitude.

“Yes, my lord...”

The demoness dissapearing into the hall, Dracula turned and made a gesture for Sypha to follow him, his voice low.

“Come along, my little heiress, the council is awaiting us.”

Sypha nodded begrudingly, standing up with a heave of breath.

“Yes, master.”

Taking precise, steady steps towards him, Sypha joined Dracula’s side with trembling lips and her head held high; her hands curled into fists.

Tears threatening to fall again, Sypha blinked them away as best she could as Dracula leaned in close to her ear, his voice nor more than a mere whisper.

“I can smell your fear, Sypha...you reek of it—and no amount of rosewater or perfume can mask it...”

Sypha shivered, the tears she tried to blink away falling down her cheeks.

Dracula continued, his voice cruel.

“And though I find your scent of terror delectable...the vampires and monsters of my council will not. They will smell your terror, Sypha—and see it as a sign of weakness. Are you weak, Sypha?”

Sypha shook her head, gritting her teeth.

“No!”

“Then quit your crying,” Dracula said, “and compose yourself.”

Taking shakey breaths, Sypha let out a final whimper before wiping her tears away from her face and taking a deep breath with closed eyes; trying to imagine herself back with her people and Trevor and Alucard.

I can’t be upset now.

Ive dug myself this grave, and now I must lay it.

Calming herself, Sypha then raised her head and stared straight ahead with a blank expression—taking a step forward.

And then, I will dig myself out of it.

Chapter Text

Lead through the castle by Dracula, the two passed several monsters and fledgling vampires who bowed to them before they had entered one of the many war rooms of the castle; Dracula’s council all turning their heads towards him from the massive map, book, and paper covered table in front of them, the door behind them slamming shut with an echoing slam.

One of the members of his council spoke up, his red hair and rugged leather armour glistening beneath the candlelight.

“You’re fucking late!”

Dracula grumbled in response, approaching an opening at the table between Hector and Issac.

“I’m aware, Godbrand. I apologize. Now, where are we Iss—?”

Suddenly, Godbrand and a few of the other male vampires in the room had noticed Sypha’s lingering presence— the viking growling and pointing at her.

“Wait—why the fuck is she here!?”

The room became deadly quiet, Sypha not daring to look at him.

Dracula answered him casually, Issac shifting through a few of the papers on the table.

“Careful, Godbrand. You are speaking to the heiress of my throne and castle.”

At this, everyone in the room widened their eyes and turned to him; Hector and Issac speaking at the same time.

“What!?”

As the council of vampires began to bicker amongst themselves, Dracula raised his hand into the air—silencing them.

“I understand this may be a shocking decision you believe I have made— but I assure you that it is all within logical reasoning. You all know that my son, Adrian, has betrayed me for humanity, and exiled himself from my castle. Which means he forfeits his own bloodline and inheritance. But with Sypha,“

Dracula gestured towards her, Sypha raising her blue eyes to his red.

“I can groom her and her magnificent mind to become the polymath I have always envisioned my future heir to be. And with our established blood bond, she will continue my legacy and war against humans long after my death.”

Godbrand scoffed at this and turned to the other vampires, pointing to Dracula in bewilderment.

“The old bastard’s gone mad! He’s gone simply mad—! Turning his own little whore into his fucking heir—!”

Dracula raised a challenging brow to Godbrand, his hands folding.

“You dare question her brilliance? Sypha—come here.”

Obeying his order, Sypha stepped forward, glancing to Dracula.

“Yes, master?”

“Plan my troop’s next attack. Arrange a formation,” Dracula commanded, “Now.”

What?

Caught off gaurd by this request, Sypha approached the table in front of her and stared down at the map with trepadation for a moment or two—unsure of what to do.

How is he expecting me to know all of this? Iv’e never even planned a formation for a battle before—!

Leaning against the table, Sypha shifted from her fragile deamanor to her natural one and placed her palms on either side of the map; thinking.

But, this map does look rather familiar...Perhaps Ive seen it in a book before...?

Scanning her eyes up and down it’s expanse, Sypha trailed her fingertips along the lines of the map and the abstract shapes that made up Wallachia— a familiar coolness resonating beneath her palms.

...I wonder...

Lifting her hands up from the table, Sypha created a small figurine of ice that resembled the castle and placed it on the map; her eyes pinpointing the black symbols beneath the names of cities

and towns.

Targoviste...Bucharest...Craiova...Gresit...

Reading them off one by one, Sypha noticed a city without a symbol near it; the speaker magician humming aloud.

Arges...

Didn’t Alucard say we were closest to Arges back at the covered wagon? 

Perhaps they are still there...

And if not, It could be a chance for me to escape all of this...

Creating two more ice figurines, Sypha placed one down of what looked like some kind of demon and one that looked like a soldier near Arges on the map; the speaker magician turning to Dracula.

Yes... an escape...

“Arges is the second largest city in Wallachia. To kill every human being living there would require about five troops and a constant horde of night creatures—“

A masculine voice across the table interrupted her, his voice gruff and thick with an odd accent.

“And how do you know that?”

Sypha matched the voice to a bald man in gold and silver armor next to Godbrand, Sypha folding her hands.

“I am a speaker. I have traveled all throughout Wallachia and lived in each major hold and city at least once—and from what I can recall—Arges is very well known and feared for the forest that surrounds it.”

She then turned back to Dracula, her dress sweeping the floor elegantly.

“You are the king of all creatures of the night, correct?”

Dracula nodded, Sypha continuing with a raised finger.

“Then I suggest you spare Arges of your night creatures in favor of...well...”

Closing her palms once more, Sypha created a fourth figurine of what appeared to be a wolf-like beast; Sypha placing it onto the map next to Arges with a grim look on her face.

“Werewolves.”

Chapter Text

The room became quiet at Sypha’s proposal except for the faint mutterings that echoed from the council of vampires— Godbrand raising his voice above the rest.

“Werewolves!? You got to be pulling on my fuckin’ dick here—!”

Dracula only raised an eyebrow at Sypha’s words, his fist pressed against his cheek as he hummed softly.

“Interesting...Continue.”

Sypha nodded, tapping at a spot on the map.

“Due to my recent studies on werewolves and my past knowledge of Arges, I know for a fact that werewolves and other monsters infest the forest that surround it. If you could travel there—master—and order them to attack the city at night, they could thin out the herd of humans that live there before your troops are sent; and even create more members for their packs and our aid.”

Knocking over the demon figurine, Sypha moved the demon and werewolf piece closer to Arges; her fingers tapping her chin.

Think, Sypha, think...! 

You have to make this sound good—!

“If we were to attack Arges—I would send in the werewolves in their human form during the day so that we would have the element of suprise on our side. Of course, we would want to attack on a night during a full moon so that the werewolves are at their strongest; and send them out in packs of ten or eleven. While the werewolves are attacking, that is when we put our vampiric troops into position around the border. Then, after the werewolves have had their fill of the humans, we would send them out to finish them off.”

“What about the night creatures?” Issac asked from Dracula’s side.

Sypha met his bourbon gaze, a stern look upon her face.

“You can use them to attack another city. With my plan, the process of eliminating every human being in Wallachia will come to fruition at a faster pace than before.”

Godbrand sneered across the table from her, eyes burning.

“And? What if the werewolves refuse?”

Sypha shook her head at him, hands folding.

“They wouldn’t dare direspect their king—“

“And how do you know that, little girl?” Godbrand asked in a mocking voice, “Can you possibly see it in the future with your silly magic of fire and—“

But before Godbrand could finish, Sypha raised her fingers and threw an arrow of ice grazing past Godbrand’s right cheek—the icicle slicing open a deep cut on his face as it flew back and stuck itself into the wall, the group of vampires moving out of the way with gasps and shouts; Sypha’s face twisted into a scowl.

Hector and Issac’s eyes widened in shock while Dracula tried to hide a smirk behind his hand; the room awaiting Godbrand’s reaction in silence.

For a moment, Godbrand just stood with a blank, empty stare before reaching a hand up to touch the bleeding cut; The viking throwing his nead back and laughing.

“Now that’s what I want in a heiress!” he smiled as he slapped Sypha’s back playfully, “A pretty face with some bite! Atta’ girl!

Sypha blinked at him as he wrapped an arm around her waist, greatly confused.

“W-What—?”

“My lord,” Godbrand shouted to Dracula as Sypha pushed him away, “I endorse her plan!”

Dracula dipped his head and then turned to the council, the vampires all huddled together in conversation.

“Have you all decided yet?”

Answering for the council, Carmilla turned to Dracula, her red-ruby lips shimmering in the light.   

“We all endorse your little heiress’s plan.”

“Very well then,” Dracula said as he turned to leave, “Tonight, Issac, Hector, and Sypha and I will leave for Arges to contact the werewolf packs. You are all dismissed.”

At these words, Sypha felt a small flicker of hope grow within her—the speaker magician smiling at her secret victory as Issac and Hector both seethed at her from afar; the forgemasters feeling replaced by the Princess of Darkness.

Chapter Text

After Dracula had left the war room, Sypha was forced to stay behind to help the vampire generals with the battle plan, Zufall and Dragoslav asking her several questions while Sharma and Chō sketched out the landscape and area around Arges —Raman and Carmilla making marks and altercations upon the map while Hector and Issac organized documents at the table. Godbrand on the other hand, just stood like a fool and drooled over Sypha; his lustful eyes outlining the curves in her body.

Whilst Sypha was informing Dragoslav—the vampire in the gold and silver armor who had asked a question during the meeting—all about Arges, Godbrand interrupted her with a meaningless question; his head tilting at her waist.

“Are you wearing a corset under that dress?”

Dragoslav shot Godbrand a glare as Sypha scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Why do you want to know?”

Godbrand shrugged, casually scratching his temple.

“Just curious...”

“Don’t answer that disgusting viking, princess.” Dragoslav said in his thick accent.

“He wishes to bend and create a perverse image of you for his own sickening pleasures—“

Sypha huffed at this, crossing his arms.

“I wish everyone would stop calling me that—I am not a princess!”

Zufall raised a brow at this behind Dragoslav whilst writing something down on a scrap of  parchment paper with a quill, the vampire glancing to Sypha.

“Are you the heiress of a king?”

Sypha bristled, looking to Zufall.

“Well, yes I—“

“Then that makes you a princess.” Zufall stated, Chō echoing his words in a dream like voice.

“‘The Princess Of Darkness...’ It has a lovely ring to it, don’t you think Sharma?”

Sharma paused and hummed aloud at this, nodding to Chō and then to Sypha.

“Yes, I suppose...But If she was my heiress, I would dress her in the finest silks and jewlery. Not whatever...that is.”

Sypha snorted at this, her arms relaxing at her side.

“Then I suppose that makes two of us...”

“How many werewolves to a pack did you say there would be?” Dragoslav asked.

Sypha’s mind went blank for a moment, the speaker magician watching as Issac and Hector left the war room out of the corner of her eye.

I need to talk to them...

“About...maybe...ten or eleven. Excuse me.”

Following after the two, Sypha exited the war room into the empty hallway, Sypha looking right and left.

Where did they go?

Confused, Sypha wandered down the hall until she came upon a what appeared to be a little black pug scratching at the wall; the puppy’s back to her.

Is that a dog...?

Kneeling down to watch it dig it’s claws into the stone, she smiled and giggled as it began to bark up at something she couldn’t see; Sypha reaching a hand out to scratch at it’s back.

It is a dog!

“Hello little puppy! What are you doing inside this ghastly, gloomy castle?”

At the sound of her voice the dog turned around to reveal a skeletal left front paw and half of it’s face, the right side of the dog’s face a skull.

Oh god—!

Sypha gasped and flinched, the blue eyes of the dog glowing as it nuzzled her hand and licked her palm; it’s curled tail wagging happily.

At this reproach, Sypha cooed and softened; reaching back down to pet and lavish the little dog with scratches and strokes.

“Aw, you’re so cute! Er—well—mostly...”

Standing up, Sypha placed her hands at her lap and grinned down at the pug as it ran in circles around her; barking up at her instinctively.

“What is it, boy—or, well— girl? Do you want to show me something?”

Yipping loudly, the pug ran down the hallway as Sypha picked up the ends of her dress and ran down after the dog; the pug leading her to a rather foggy room with a altar in the center—a tall window in the center of the room that let in a white, natural light.

Within this room was Hector tending to a night creature on the altar, the dog running up and scratching at his leg.

Hector glanced down at the dog and smiled, kneeling down to pick him up.

“What is it, little Cezar? Find something, boy—?”

“He did, actually.” Sypha said from the doorway as Hector looked up at it.

“He found me.”

Hector sighed, petting Cezar’s head.

“What do you want?”

Sypha approached his side, her hands folded behind her back.

“I wanted to speak to you and Issac about the trip to Arges—“

Hector huffed a bit, Cezar licking his cheek.

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes,” Sypha began as she stroked Cezar’s head, “I just wanted to inform you both a few things about werewolves and staying cautious so you don’t get infected—“

But Hector almost seemed to completely ignore her, the forgemaster placing Cezar back onto the floor.

“Well, I don’t have time to talk. I have work to do, princess, so I suggest you leave quickly before you see something you may not want to see.”

Sypha scowled, having enough of vampires and humans brushing her off as nothing more than a little girl or Dracula’s pet.

“I’m not leaving until you listen to me—“

“Can’t hear you,” Hector said as he picked up an anvil from the altar and raised it up to his hand and face, “I’m working.”

Blue light glowing from the anvil, Sypha gritted her teeth and grabbed Hector’s arm—seething.

“I don’t care— if you get scratched or bitten by a werewolf tonight you will be infected with lycanthropy—“

Hector growled, ripping his arm away from Sypha.

“Let go of me—!”

But this only made Sypha grab him by his clothes and pull her to him; the distraught prisoner screaming in his face.

“AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO BE A FORGEMASTER ANYMORE!”

Hector blinked at her in realization as tears welled in her eyes, Sypha releasing him to turn away; the speaker magician wiping the tears away with the sleeve of her dress.

He stared at her for a moment, shame apparent on his face.

“Is that true?”

Sypha nodded, holding back a whimper as she sniffled.

“Y-Yes...You need to be careful, is all I’m trying to tell you...both of you.”

Sensing her distress, Cezar barked up at Sypha and stood on his hind legs to try and get her attention, the dog pawing at her dress.

Sypha smiled down at the pug, and stooped low to pet him as he leapt into her lap; Cezar wagging his tail vigorously.

Hector chuckled at this, sitting down next to Sypha to rub Cezar’s belly.

“Look’s like little Cezar really likes you.”

Sypha calmed at this comment, scratching the pug behind his ears.

“He’s absolutely adorable! Did you...create him?”

Hector nodded.

“I did.”

“How?” Sypha asked, “I know you used magic to revive him, but how exactly do you do it?”

Hector laughed aloud at Sypha.

“I can’t really explain it in words...perhaps one day you could come down here and I could show you how I bring these precious creatures back to life.”

Sypha smiled at this thought,  but then frowned; looking down to the floor.

“Do you think Dracula would allow me? After today, my education as a polymath will begin and Dracula and his generals will be my teachers.”

Hector raised a brow.

“Even Godbrand?”

Sypha held in a snort, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, even Godbrand.”

Hector let out a little chuckle, placing a hand to his head at the image of Godbrand teaching Sypha.

“Oh God—What do you think he’ll teach you? The art of fucking?”

Sypha shook her head, a completely serious look on her face.

“No...Perhaps he’ll teach me the art of boat-making though. Dragoslav did mention he was a viking—and I heard and read that the vikings are very experienced with boats and boat-making!”

At this, Hector began to snicker which turned into a chuckle—his chuckle evolving into a loud, belly-aching laugh that had him collapsed onto the floor of his work space and holding his stomach; his laughter making Sypha slip into a fit of giggles to eventual laughter.

Now rolling on the floor in joy and mirth, Sypha fell onto her back next to Hector while Cezar leaped out of Sypha’s lap to go explore the halls; Dracula entering the room just in time to witness the scene of Sypha and Hector gazing at each other as they laid together—laughter slowly ebbing away into simple grins.

Dracula cleared his throat from the doorway, Sypha and Hector sitting up at the sound.

“Sypha, come. It’s time for you to eat .”

Face slightly flushed, Sypha jumped to her feet and ran to the doorway; brushing her loosened bangs out of her face.

“Yes, master!”

Gesturing down the hall, Sypha rushed past Dracula into the hallway as the King of Darkness just smirked and shook his head with a small chuckle at an embarrassed Hector, following after his heir.

“‘The art of boat-making...’”

Chapter Text

Before being fed again, Sypha was brought back to her room where Lilith—who was now her own personal maid—dressed her in a pink nightgown before being whisked away by Dracula to the apothecary of the castle for a lesson in alchemy.

Sat atop a table near a bubbling glass cauldron; Sypha swung her bare legs and watched mid-sip of her usual mysterious red stew as Dracula dropped in an elm root and a butterfly wing into the developing health potion; the liquid within the cauldron changing from green to blue.

“Butterfly wings can restore health and cure most ailments humans suffer from, and elm root is good for  restoring red blood cells.” Dracula explained to her as he picked up a ladle from the table and began to stir it, “Are you listening to me, Sypha?”

Sypha nodded, lowering the bowl to her lap before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand; the speaker magician staring down at the now empty bowl suspiciously in her lap.

She furrowed her brow, wondering why she was constantly fed the same thing with the same taste.

“Are you slowly poisoning me?”

Dracula looked up from the cauldron, blinkng to Sypha in confusion.

“What—?”

Sypha continued, arms crossing against her chest.

“All the food I’m given—it constantly tastes metallic and off—What have you been putting in it?”

Dracula made a noise of realization,  the potion changing blue to yellow.

“Oh that. Just a few drops of my blood is all—“

Sypha widened her eyes, her stomach churning.

“WHAT!?”

Sickened and disturbed from what Dracula had just told her, the bowl in her hands clattered to the floor as she held her stomach and fought back a cold shiver that vibrated throughout her entire body.

Oh my God.

Sypha leaped off the table, hugging herself as she fumed at him.

“Ugh! You are just—How could you—WHY!?”

Dracula chuckled at her distress, pausing in his stirring of the potion to flip through the pages of an open recipe book next to the cauldron on the table.

“For your health, of course. When you first arrived here, you were drained to near death—“

Sypha scoffed.

“Yeah, thanks to you—!”

“Vampire blood is known to have many health benefits and restoration properties in humans,” Dracula said as he ignored her comment, “If taken in very small doses, of course. I also disliked your short hair and wished for it to grow faster.”

Sypha blinked, reaching up to touch her now chin-length hair.

So that’s why It’s so long already—!

She glared at him, joining his side in front of the cauldron.

“You are disgusting.”

Dracula snorted.

“I have been called worst, now, do you remember the last two ingredients we put in a health potion?”

Sypha raised a finger to her chin in thought, rushing across the room to a cabinet filled with ingredients incased in clay jars.

“Yes, master! Crushed wheat and wildflowers!”

Picking out the two ingredients from the labels on the jars, Sypha brought the two jars back to the table and retrieved the ingredients within them; placing the wildflowers into the cauldron.

The wildflowers sizzled and popped deep within the potion as Sypha placed the wheat into a ceramic mortar and began to crush it with a wooden pestle, Dracula standing over her to supervise her work.

Feeling his chest against her back, Sypha paused in her pounding of the wheat to glare up at Dracula—not liking the beast being so close to her.

She attempted to elbow him away, pouting a bit.

“Do you mind?”

Sighing, Dracula took two steps backwards away from her, Sypha letting out a long breath before continuing to pound at the crushed up wheat; the ingredient soon becoming a light yellow powder.

Blowing strands of her hair out of her face, Sypha took the mortar and dumped all of it’s contents into the cauldron; the potion suddenly  exploding with a multitude of sparks and lights.

Shielding herself from the brightness with her arms, Sypha lowered them to see a golden, glittering potion frothing at the mouth of the cauldron; Dracula sweeping forward to inspect it.

Still bubbling a bit, Dracula stirred the potion around with the ladle as Sypha waited in anticipation for him to say something; his heiress rocking herself back in forth in excitement.

“Well? Did I make it correctly?”

Sniffing it carefully, Dracula then dipped his head in thought before answering Sypha; the King of Darkness smiling a bit.

“Perfectly.”

At this, Sypha let out a shout of victory before clapping her hands, the door of the apothecary opening with a loud creak to reveal Issac.

“My lord...”

Too excited to notice, Sypha ran to a cabinet in the room to grab three round glass bottles and three corks,  Dracula turning away from the cauldron to the forgemaster.

“Yes, Issac?”

“The generals wanted to inform you that they have finished the battle plan for Arges.” Issac said.

“They would like for you to review it.”

Dracula sighed, the vampire pouring the potion into the bottles as Sypha watched him, her head atop the table with her arms folded beneath her chin.

“Very well,” Dracula said as he set the now filled glass bottles aside, “Tell them I will attend to them at another time. As you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

“Ah... I see.” Issac mused as he turned to watch Sypha corking the potions.

“Shall I tell the council you are too busy babysitting?”

Dracula chuckled at this, Sypha bristling in offense as she held her tongue; not wanting to feel Issac’s blade against her throat again.

“That will not be necessary, Issac. You are dismissed.”

Bowing before turning to leave, Sypha grabbed one of the health potions before chasing Issac out of the door into the hall; calling after him.

“Issac! Wait—!”

Issac stopped and sighed, his back  to her.

“What is it that you want, my princess?”

Sypha approached him, now only a foot away from him.

“I just want to talk to you a little bit about the trip to Arges tonight. Werewolves can infect humans with lycanthropy if they bite or wound them with their claws; so please be careful. If you are infected, you won’t be able to be a forgemaster anymore,” Sypha said as she paused a bit.

“And I also—I also want to apologize to you.”

Issac glanced over his shoulder, his expression a grimace.

“For what?”

Sypha blinked, taking a step forward.

“Well, for fighting you of course. I didn’t mean it, really—I was just caught off gaurd. So...um...Here!”

She shoved potion in her hands towards him; Issac turning around to accept it in his palm.

“It’s a health potion. For tonight. Dracula taught me how to make them today.”

Staring down at the potion with no emotion to Sypha’s gift, Sypha leaned into him and tilted her head; her face only an inch away from his.

“Do you...Do you like it?”

Widening his eyes a bit in what Sypha could only assume was suprise, Issac took a sudden step back and nodded awkwardly; his brows knit together in concentration.

“Yes. I do...Thank you...Sypha.”

Sypha smiled dipping her head.

“You’re welcome, Issac. See you tonight!”

Returning into the apothecary, Issac stood in the hallway and clutched the first gift someone has ever given to him against his chest; the forgemaster standing still for a long while before walking down the hall, the speaker magician filling the cracks in his mind.

Chapter Text

Closing the book he was reading next to the mirror, Alucard placed it down on the floor and examined his cracked reflection in the mirror; the dhampir hearing a pained cry from across the room.

Alucard lifted his head, turning towards the noise.

“Trevor—!”

Rushing towards the hunter, Alucard came to find Trevor writhing upon the floor in a red-faced delirium; groaning in agony.

Stooping low to examine him Alucard removed his gloves with his teeth and felt Trevor’s forehead with his palm; Trevor looking up at him with watery blue eyes.

“A-Alucard...”

His entire head burned, Alucard brushing the hair out of his face.

He’s running a high fever...!

Choking out gibberish at first, Alucard lifted Trevor into his lap as he said only a few words Alucard could understand, the dhamphir pressing his hands against his neck and collarbone.

“I-It hurts...h-hurts...”

Alucard began to unbutton Trevor’s shirt; trying to stay calm.

“I know, I know...Stay with me, Belmont.”

Removing his shirt carefully, Alucard then unbuckled Trevor’s belt and removed his pants, the hunter covered in a sheen of sweat as he continued to groan in pain—his scarred hands gripping his head.

Tossing his clothes aside, Alucard examined Trevor’s now shivering body with delicate hands and touches, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with him.

Fever, pain, sweating, cold shivers....

No sign of irritation to the skin...

Trying to soothe Trevor with gentle strokes of his hair, Alucard noted the bright redness of his cheeks and the stark whiteness around his mouth; the dhampir opening Trevor’s mouth to reveal his white coated tongue.

Oh no...

Alucard felt his stomach drop, a memory of his nine year old self flushed with a fever and contained to a bed flooding back to him like the tide during a storm.

He closed Trevor’s mouth, frowning.

...Scarlet Fever...

Standing up, Alucard tried to look deep into the recesses of his mind; trying to recall the medicine and recipe needed to cure one with scarlet fever.

Next to him, Trevor began to cough, scratching at his throat.

“Alucard...Alucard...please...water...please...”

Deep in thought, Alucard did not hear Trevor calling for him at first; the dhampir dropping to one knee to tend to him.

“What is it Trevor? Water? Do you need water—?”

Nodding weakly, Alucard sprinted with inhuman speed around the bookcases, up the stairs, and out of the Belmont hold to the covered wagon to retrieve a water-skin; Alucard returning to Trevor in less than a second.

Lifting Trevor up into his arms, Alucard tilted the hunter’s head back and attempted to get him to drink from the skin—Trevor struggling to swallow the water as half of it dribbled off his lips to the floor, Trevor whimpering and sputtering up some of the water.

He’s not drinking it...!

Knitting his brows, Alucard cradled Trevor against him and attempted to massage his throat to encourage him to swallow; Trevor choking and coughing.

“Water...water...!”

Knowing he needed hydration to survive his sickness, Alucard sipped from the flask and held the water in his mouth before pressing his lips to Trevor’s and transferring it into his mouth; Trevor gulping the water down more easily than before.

When he had fully swallowed it he licked his lips and gripped tightly onto Alucard’s clothes; gazing up into his eyes.

“More.”

Taking another sip of water, Alucard peformed this same act again; Trevor tangling his fingers into Alucard’s hair.

“More.”

Over and over, Alucard did this until Trevor passed out in Alucard’s arms; Alucard holding him close as he thought of what he was going to do—feeling helpless in the deepness of his father’s greatest enemies hold.

Chapter Text

After Sypha had sent one of Dracula’s minions to deliver one of the health potions she had made to Hector, Dracula sent Sypha away to bed so she would be well-rested for the the trip to Arges.

But as Sypha laid all alone in her canopy, queen-sized bed; all she could think about was all of the books she could be reading along with the all of the potions, antidotes, and tonics she could be creating—her imagination running wild with her escape of Dracula and his cursed castle.

Unable to sleep, Sypha got up from her bed and left her room to wander the halls of the castle—the heiress discovering an almost seemingly forgotten wing of the castle covered in dust and cobwebs.

Faded and crooked paintings decorating the stone walls, Sypha took slow and catious steps down the hallway as she peered around a corner to see a row of half open doors hanging off their hinges to display empty rooms with destroyed furniture; Sypha peering into one of them only to see a large bed broken in half and a ripped canvas painting —Sypha entering the room to explore.

Goodness...did Dracula cause this mess...?

Hm...I wonder...

For a moment, Sypha just looked around the room and examined the peeling wallpaper and smashed mirrors—her eyes meeting another pair in the darkness as she passed the painting; Sypha pausing to examine it.

Who...Who is this?

Tilting her head, she met the steel gray eyes of the painting of what she assumed was once a portrait of a man, his pale skin and dark hair showing through the remains of the clawed up canvas.

He looks familiar...

Those eyes.

Iv’e seen them before...

Raising a brow, Sypha stared deep into the painted gray eyes before reaching forward and attempting to raise a piece of the torn canvas to where it once was; her mind trying to put together a full image of the man in the painting.

Behind her, Dracula leered in the doorway; his form rigid as his voice echoed throughout the room.

“Sypha, why aren’t you in bed?”

Whipping around, Sypha muffled her gasp with her hand; lowering it when she saw her master.

“I-I am sorry master...I just...I can’t sleep.”

Dracula closed his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Why?”

Sypha approached him, rubbing her clothed arms as a cold shiver rushed through her; goosebumps developing on her skin.

“I’m not tired.”

Sighing, Dracula lead Sypha out of the room and then took off his cape for her to wear; the vampire adjusting it to fit around her collarbone before taking her small hand into his.

“Come with me, I’ll make you a sleeping tonic to drink in the apothecary.”

Nodding silently, Sypha allowed Dracula to lead her all the way across the castle back to the apothecary where she watched him mix in lavender, moth wings, honey, ginseng, and cinnamon into a bubbling vat of water and milk; Dracula stirring it silently as Sypha swayed and twirled about in his cape—the lavender and cinnamon mingling reducing her heartrate and calming her.

She looked to Dracula, smiling dreamily.

“How did you learn how to do all of this?”

Dracula raised a brow.

“Alchemy?”

“Yes,” Sypha nodded, “It seems to be your...speciality almost.”

Dracula nodded, chuckling a bit.

“Well, it is...I was taught at a young age the art of alchemy and the arcane from books my family had transmitted orally all across the world. My mother herself was an alchemist, while my father was a soldier in the war.”

Sypha lifted her head, eyes alight.

“Your father was a soldier?”

Dracula nodded, Sypha’s brow furrowing in thought.

“Wallachia hasn’t had a war in almost two hundred years...”

She looked at him, giggling.

“God, how old are you?”

Chuckling a bit, Dracula stopped stirring the mixture to grab a glass bottle from one of the cabinets in the apothecary; the vampire filling the bottle with the milky tonic.

“That will be enough questions for tonight, Sypha—now—be silent and drink this,” Dracula said as he handed the tonic to her, “I will take you back to your room.”

Accepting the bottle gingerly, Sypha sniffed at it first before tilting it back and taking a small mouthful—speaking between sips.

“Why would I need you...to take me back to my room?”

Dracula smirked, hands folding behind him.

“Because as soon as you take merely a drop of this particular sleeping tonic—you will succumb to a great drowsiness and be paralyzed for four hours.”

W-W...

W-What...?

Lowering the bottle, Sypha slowly blinked up at Dracula as she felt her heartbeat quicken and accelerate as sweat formed on her skin; her body beginning to shake violently as her fingers, toes, and limbs became rigid—a mighty haze falling over her.

This...this isn’t...isn’t a...sleeping...tonic...

It’s...it’s...

Struggling to finish a complete thought, Sypha felt the bottle slip through her fingers and shatter onto the floor—the ‘tonic’ spilling over the cracks in the stone.

Poison.

Blue eyes glazing over, Sypha fell forward into Dracula’s arms with a release of breath as a cold numbness filled her mouth and lungs; Dracula laughing maliciously as he cradled her against his chest like a child—her entire body twitching and trembling to fight back the poison.

He ran his fingers through her growing hair with a cruel grin, hissing right into her ear.

“Do you truly think I’m foolish enough to not see exactly what you are planning to do tonight? That I don’t know about my son and the Belmont? About your pitiful escape plan?”

He brushed her ginger locks out of her face as Sypha began to squirm slightly; her motions slowing and weakening by the second.

“I have access to your mind. To your inner most thoughts and ideas. I posses you, influence you, own you...You are mine Sypha Belnades, and as long as you are mine; you will never leave my side or escape me. You will always belong to me, my little heiress...always.”

Unable to fight back the growing drowsiness any longer—Sypha felt her eyelids droop close as her body went completely still and fell into the deepest of darkness; the devil smiling at her as he planted a mocking kiss on her forehead—tucking his cape around her as he made his way out of the apothecary, humming.

“Sleep well, my doll, sleep well.”

Chapter Text

Shifting from darkness to a blinding light; Sypha found herself inside a forest with the sun setting behind the blackening trees, a pretty voice that wasn’t hers singing a song she had never heard before.

“There once was a girl who heard songs of the old,

But no one could understand the words she had spoke.”

Kneeling down, she watched a pair of hands —her hands, but not— reach down and pluck a bunch of flowers from the base of a moss covered tree, the hands dropping it into a woven basket filled with herbs looped under her elbow.

“And so she tried with all her might and her soul,

But alas to her cries, her voice silently broke.”

From behind her, the soft sounding voice of a young boy joined in with the harmomy of the song, his voice angelic and high.

“But then came a friend saying,

‘I know what you say, and I’m here to make all the voices go away.’”

Turning around, Sypha saw a dark haired little boy of only seven or eight running towards her on bare feet;  his green tunic and black trousers stark against the bright greenery of the forest as a leather belt tied tightly around his waist held a sheathed weapon—Sypha’s arms reaching out to catch the child in a playful embrace.

The boy giggling against her, the woman’s voice and the young boy sang the last line of song, Sypha pressing her forehead against the boy’s to see his dirty face and wild, unkempt hair; his silver eyes never leaving hers.

“Finally smiling, she took the young boys hand,

And away went the voices and the two forsworn lambs.”

Smiling broadly back at her, Sypha kissed the boy’s nose as he let go of her and landed onto the forest floor—Sypha kneeling down in an attempt to wipe the dirt off the child’s face with a white apron she was wearing.

The boy squirmed in protest, attempting to push Sypha—the woman—away.

“Mama—! Don’t—!”

The woman laughed, letting her apron go.

“But Mathias, you are simply filthy! What on God’s good, green earth have you been doing whilst I’ve been collecting herbs—?”

Mathias’s eyes lit up, the puny boy smiling.

“I’ve been chasin’ cats, Mama!”

Sypha felt a chuckle vibrate through her chest, the hand that was not hers wiping a smudge of dirt off the boy’s cheek.

“Cats, huh?”

Mathias nodded.

“Yeah! Papa’s been making me chase after em’!”

Sypha felt one of her brow’s rise.

“Oh, has he?”

The boy nodded eagerly, his tiny hand falling onto the handle of the sheathed weapon at his side.

“Yeah! He says if I wanna be a soldier like him one day, I gotta be fast and quick on my feet! He even gave me one of his daggers— Lookit, Mama!”

Pulling out the dagger from it’s sheath, the knife glittered black in the sunlight as Sypha lowered his hand with a gentle touch—her voice calm and low.

“I see, Mathias. Now, put that away and come along, its time you take your tonic for the day.”

The boy nodded, slipping the dagger back into it’s sheath at his hip.

“Okay, Mama!”

Shifting perspective to an outsider at the edge of the forest, Sypha watched as a beautiful woman with long, white-blonde hair took the hand of the young boy and lead him  away—the scene morphing into that of a candle-lit room inside a cottage, the woman from before tending to a pale-faced Mathias in bed.

The child coughed with closed eyes beneath the covers as his mother wiped his brow with a rag; a massive man in steel armour and a green cloak approaching the bedside of the boy.

Falling to his knees, the dark-haired man folded his gloved hands in prayer and bowed his head—tears blooming in the corners of his blue eyes.

“My God, why...why, why, why must you do this? Why must you strike my son with a foul illness just as I am to be sent to fight in your name? If this is a punishment for my sins against you, I say strike me down first and spare my one and only son Mathias of this horrible suffering...Mathias, my boy—my precious, precious little boy—“

Tears rolling down his cheeks, he unfolded his hands and leaned forward to clasp his son’s face so that he could press a kiss to his head; his mother looking up to his father.

“You must leave now, my love.”

The man shuttered, holding back a sob as he stood, eyes never leaving the boy in the bed.

“I-I...I know...”

She took one of his gloved hands into hers, speaking gently.

“Don’t worry. I will look after him.”

The man then looked to his wife, grey meeting blue.

“Promise me you will protect him from the night. Please—“

The wife stood to kiss him, her words barely leaving her lips.

“I promise. Now go! May God speed you!”

Giving his son one last glance, the father nodded to his wife and left the room—the image changing to show the mother cradling Mathias in bed against her as she stroked his dark hair and sung to him in the blackness of the room; her voice soothing and bright.

“Days in the sun,

When your life has barely begun—

Not until my whole life is done—

Could I ever leave you...”

Night becoming day, Sypha watched as time passed in her dream to reveal a now somewhat healthy Mathias sitting up in bed as his mother brushed out his long hair with a comb, the mother humming a tune as warm sunlight filled the room with life; Mathias turning his head a bit to speak to his mother.

“Mama, can you sing to me that song about the vampires?”

The woman paused in her humming, thinking.

“Perhaps. Isn’t that one a lullaby?”

Mathias nodded.

“Yes. Can you sing it to me? Please—?”

Placing the comb down, the mother folded her hands and bowed her head in thought—eyes closing.

“Of course, love...Now, how does that one go again...?”

Clearing her throat, The woman began a dark, disturbing lullaby—her pale fingers picking up the comb to brush his hair once more.

“Hide your children, lock the doors, keep safe out of sight.

Here come the drinkers of blood, rulers of the night!

Under the cover of darkness they’ll take your soul,

No one will hear your final hopeless cries!”

As she sang the last verses, Mathias chimed in as his mother put the comb away to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him against her;the boy leaning into her touch.

“Hide your children, lock the doors, you’re not safe tonight.

For this is the night the vampires come to take your life.”

Playfully pretending to bite at her son’s neck; Mathias bursted into a fit of giggles as the woman laughed and kissed his little cheek—the laughter fading away as the darkness of night took over once more, the woman replacing Mathias in the bed as she coughed violently beneath the covers; her son awkwardly climbing atop the bed to wipe her brow with the hem of his tunic as she had done for him—the boy lowering his tunic as her cough eased; the boy looking down at her expectantly.

He brushed the long tresses of white-blonde hair out of her flushed face, smiling nervously.

“I-I have a suprise for you Mama...It’s something you really, really like. I found it out in the forest today, and I’ll think it’ll make you feel a bit better...”

Not responding to his voice, Mathias dug about in the pockets of his trousers and pulled out a small, ripe pomegranate; the boy holding it out to his sickly mother.

“Look, Mama! Lookit—! A pomegranate! It’s one of your favorites, right?”

The woman slowly turned her head to the fruit, eyes glazed over as she smiled weakly, reaching forward.

“Yes, it is...thank you...Mathias...”

Digging his small fingers into the pomegranate, he slowly but surely ripped the fruit into two halves, the child glancing to his mother in worriment.

“Do you...Do you want me to feed it to you, Mama?”

The woman nodding silently, Mathias scooped out the seeds into his palm and fed it to his mother—the blackness closing in as time passed to another night...the room completely plunged into a candle-less deep as a tall humanoid shadow bore over a sleeping form within the bed; a tired Mathias entering the room with a satchel over his shoulder filled to the brim with herbs and other alchemical ingredients—the boy becoming still.

The shadow shifted from where it was as it raised it’s head from the neck of the woman in the bed with a sharp intake of breath—his long, red hair sticking to the streaks of  blood dripping down his chin from his lips.

“Well, isn’t this an interesting turn of events...”

He turned to look at a trembling Mathias, his yellow eyes glowing as he smiled, his fangs and teeth tinted pink with blood.

“I come out to feed upon the human livestock your village ever so graciously provides to me— and instead of searching through the village for the little thief that has been stealing from me, I find him presenting himself to me like a little, frightened gift...”

Lunging at the boy, Mathias pulled out the dagger at his hip and pointed it at the vampire, the monster knocking it out of the boy’s hand as he pinned him against the wall—a large fist clamped around the child’s throat.

Struck with terror, Mathias squirmed in his grip as the vampire leaned in close to his face, gnashing his teeth.

“My name is Walter Bernhard, boy—and I do no let many humans leave my forest of Eternal Night alive...”

Tears welling in his eyes, Mathias began to sob; struggling to take in breath’s of air.

“I-I’m...I’m...s...sor...sorry...p-plea...please don-don’t kill me...”

The vampire laughed, licking his lips.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you...where would all the fun be in that, anyways? What’s your name, boy?”

“M-Ma...Mathias...C-Cro...Cronq...Cronqvist...” Mathias replied.

“Well little Mathias Cronqvist, from this day onward,” Walter began as as he slashed open the boy’s tunic with his sharp claws to bare his naked chest to him, “You will dedicate your entire life to one day defeating me in battle when you are grown.”

Kicking his legs in the air helplessly, Mathias cried out in agony as the vampire punctured his chest with a single nail and began to carve in the initials ‘WB’ into his skin; the boy screaming as a dark stain began to grow at the center of his trousers—the child urinating himself in his tremendous terror.

Disgusted by this, Walter released Mathias with a grunt as the child fell to the floor like a ragdoll— his chest bleeding profusely as the initials settled into his skin; the vampire kneeling down to speak to him.

“That’s so you won’t ever forget,” Walter said as poked the boy’s bleeding chest, “You won’t ever forget me, will you?”

Too busy weeping to to respond, Mathias hid his face in his arms until Walter grabbed the boy by his hair and tugged maliciously—the vampire snarling.

“WILL YOU!?”

Mathias shook his head silently tears staining his cheeks.

Walter grinned, letting go of his hair.

“Then grow child. Grow. Train your mind and body for battle—until then, I will be awaiting for your revenge eagerly in the night. Yes...eagerly...Until then, little Mathias Cronqvist...Until then.”

Standing up to leave, Walter turned into mist and left the boy all alone within the room—Mathias curled into a tight ball as he sobbed and shivered away in a puddle of his urine; the night melting away into a miserable dawn of a new, different day to show a thin and dehydrated Mathias laying in the blood-stained bed next to the decaying corpse of his mother— the boy brushing his fingers through her hair.

For a long moment, the child just stared at his mother’s peaceful almost sleeping expression as flies swarmed around her; Mathias placing his head down against her chest as he began to sing one last time—tears welling in his eyes.

“Days in the sun,

When my life has barely begun—

Not until my whole life is done—

Will I ever leave you...”

He paused before singing the final line, Mathias kissing his mother’s cheek.

“I will never leave you...”

A single tear falling down his cheek, Sypha awoke in a cold-sweat, gasping for air as the child’s chorus echoed in her ears—the nightmarish memory of Dracula haunting her as if it were her own.

Chapter Text

Heart pounding in her ears, Sypha gripped Dracula’s cape around her as she took in quick and sudden breaths of air; the dream fading away as she slowly processed what she had just witnessed—the darkness of her room suffocating her.

What...What was that...?

Was that...was that a piece of one of Dracula’s memories? Of his childhood—?

Shivering, Sypha got up from her bed, taking trembling steps towards her open door.

God, no wonder he’s so messed up—!

Exiting her room, Sypha held back tears as she ran down the hallway towards Dracula’s chambers, calling for him.

“Master? M-Master—!”

Looking around the empty room, Sypha jumped when she felt a pair of cold hands grab hold of her shoulders, the voice of Lilith, her maid, calming her.

“He is not here, Sypha.”

Sypha whipped around, the succubus coaxing her out of the room as she tightened the cape around her form; Sypha visibly distraught.

“Then where is he!?”

Lilith hushed her, leading down the hall.

“You will see your master soon, princess. Goodness, what has gotten into you—?”

Taking her to be dressed within her room, Lilith stripped Sypha of the cape and her nightgown and placed her into a black dress with a black leather bandolier belt strapped across her chest—the bandolier holding three glass vials of a mysterious purple liquid, a hidden knife, and three small satchels.

Her naturaly curly hair was left alone to flow freely down her shoulders as Lilith hemmed Dracula’s cape to actually fit her, a hood created in the cape so Sypha could cover her head.

After making the final adjustments to her dress, Lilith slipped Sypha into a pair of white stockings and black riding boots as the heiress plucked one of the vials out of her bandolier; Sypha examining it in the light.

“Lilith, what is this?” she asked.

The succubus smiled, smoothing out Sypha’s dress.

“An antidote for lycanthropy. If you, Issac, or Hector are bitten or scratched by one of the werewolves; just drink one of these vials. They’re hard to come by though, so use them wisely. Now, come along—Lord Dracula is waiting for you at the entrance of the castle.”

Placing the vial back into it’s spot on the bandolier, Lilith took Sypha’s hand and led her out into the halls of the castle; the succubus taking the heiress to a part of the castle Sypha has never seen before, the two taking steps down a large, curved staircase—Dracula and travel-dressed Issac in a cloak awaiting for them at the bottom in idle conversation.

The two raised their heads at Sypha’s appearance, Dracula approaching her.

“There you are—I was wondering if you would ever wake up!”

Sypha furrowed her brow, Lilith bowing before her lord before dismissing herself silently.

“‘If’?”

Dracula nodded.

“Oh yes—the poison I gave you kills most of those who take it—Well, after they fall into a paralysed sleep that is. I’m suprised, Sypha. Perhaps you posses an anti-body in your system that—“

But before Dracula could finish, Sypha lunged out at him with tiny fists at his chest as Issac moved to restrain her—the vampire laughing as Sypha screamed—enraged.

“YOU GAVE ME A POISON THAT COULD HAVE KILLED ME!? YOU IDIOT! YOU MISCREANT! YOU UNDEAD IMBECILE! AND JUST AS I WAS ABOUT TO FEEL SYMPATHY FOR YOU! WHY YOU ARE JUST— UGH—!”

“Compose yourself—!” Issac threatened as Sypha squirmed out of his grip.

“I will not!”

She turned to Dracula, hands at her hips as she glared up at him.

“Now, apologize or I’ll—or I’ll—or I’ll kick you!”

Dracula leered over the small girl, brow raised as he folded his hands in front of him.

“Sypha, if you kick me, there are going to be severe conseque—“

Cutting him off once more, Sypha encased her right foot in a thick layer of ice and then swung her foot at Dracula’s shins; the vampire grunting aloud in pain as she smashed the layer of ice around her foot before running away—Hector also dressed in traveling attire as he made his way down one of the staircases—Sypha hiding behind the confused, wide-eyed forgemaster as Dracula chased after her; fuming.

“You infantile little PEST—!”

She gripped Hector’s shoulders, Sypha using the poor man as a human shield.

“PEST!? You’re the pest, you bloodsucking old RELIC! HEY—!”

Too busy yelling at Dracula, Sypha did not notice Issac sneaking up behind her—the forgemaster picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder carelessly as he turned to glare at the two men—Sypha going quiet with shock at Issac’s strength.

“Enough of this squabbling. We need to be off for Arges, my lord, and quickly— We only have twelve hours—“

“Do not worry about time, Issac,” Dracula said as he turned with a sigh towards the castle entrance,  “We have plently of it.”

“Will we be taking the horses?” Hector asked.

Dracula shook his head.

“No. Traveling by horse would take much too long. Tonight, we will all be traveling a bit...differently.”

Sypha spoke up from against Issac’s back, her voice slightly muffled.

“What do you mean ‘differently?’”

Dracula only chuckled, red eyes aglow.

“You will see.”

Opening the large, opulent doors with a wave of his hand, Dracula, Hector, and Issac—who was still carrying Sypha—stepped out into a dark meadow surrounded by a forest as the trees circling them stood black against the sky— the full moon and the stars above them luminescent and calming.

Dracula turned to Issac, hands folded behind him.

“Issac, come and put Sypha around my shoulders.”

What?

Issac nodded and obeyed without question, Hector and Sypha sharing confused stares.

“Of course, my lord.”

Hands at Sypha’s waist, Issac lifted the heiress up from over his shoulder to Dracula’s back; Sypha wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“Good, now, be sure to hold on tight—Hector, Issac, I suggest you back up a bit.”

The two doing as suggested, Sypha awkwardly gripped tightly around Dracula’s neck as the vampire slowly began to morph and grow as thick, black hair sprouted over his clothing— his hands and feet turned into large paws.

W-Whoa—!

Large ears shot up around his head as his shoulders became broader and he finally changed from vampire to wolf, Hector and Issac gaping in suprise and wonder as Sypha gripped tightly into his dark fur—the massive wolf throwing back his head and howling to the moon; the very noise causing the earth to beneath his paws to vibrate.

Sypha beamed above him, the speaker magician letting out a shout of delight before collapsing against him and rubbing her face into his black, fluffy fur— Hector approaching excitedly as Issac lingered, examining him from afar.

“Amazing...Absolutely amazing! Why did you never tell us about this?” Hector asked with a wide smile as he reached out to touch his muzzle—but faltered.

“Oh—I apologize—may I, my lord?”

Dracula nodded his large head in consent as Hector grinned and scratched under Dracula’s long snout,  Dracula making grunts of approval as he kicked his back right leg like a happy dog—Hector and Sypha laughing at this as Issac finally approached; the forgemaster climbing atop Dracula’s back and sitting in front of Sypha.

“Remember that this our lord, Hector—not one of your undead puppies.”

Hector sighed, stroking Dracula’s neck before climbing up as well and sitting behind Sypha.

“I know, Issac.”

“Then quit petting and stroking him like one of your—“

But before Issac could finish, Dracula leaped out into the night as all three of their heads whipped back at the force of the movement as Sypha gasped and wrapped her arms around Issac in fright—Hector holding Sypha in place as Dracula sprinted through the meadow and out into the woods; the beams of moonlight seeming to follow his path.

Chapter Text

For hours, Alucard cradled the sick Trevor against him—the dhamphir slipping in and out of a dreamless sleep as Trevor quietly groaned and drooled in his; Alucard still searching his mind for the medicine needed to cure the hunter.

Closing his eyes, Alucard thought back to the time when he was sick with scarlet fever himself—the vision of his father reading to him at his bedside while his mother spoon fed him a strange tasting medicine that tasted of grapes; her voice echoing in his head.

‘See, love? It’s just some mold I found in the forest of Arges, turned to powder and mixed in with some grape wine...’

Alucard opened his eyes wide, gasping a bit.

That’s it! That’s what it was—!

Standing up slowly, he carefully placed Trevor flat onto the floor and then ran about searching the library for a bag of some sort, Alucard finding a satchel atop one of the shelves of the bookcases.

But just as Alucard had grabbed it and slipped the satchel on, Trevor awoke with another cry, his voice raw and scratchy with a sore throat.

“N-No...Alucard...No...D-Don’t go...Don’t go...”

Alucard approached him, kneeling down to press a hand to Trevor’s cheeks and forehead—the hunter’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“I’m sorry, Belmont—but I must.”

Trevor began to sob at this response, grabbing Alucard’s hand tightly in his own as he kissed each of the dhampir’s long, delicate fingers in a feverish haze; his blue eyes pale and watery.

“N-No...no...Alu...Alucard...please, please don’t leave...” He begged as tears fell down his face,

“D-Don’t leave like Sypha...Don’t leave like my family...please, please I can’t...I can’t take it anymore Alucard... please, please, please stay with me...stay with me...”

Alucard nodded sadly and brushed Trevor’s hair out of his face, wiping his tears away with a thumb.

“I am not going to leave you, Trevor.”

Trevor sniffled, lifting a trembling hand to grab a handful of Alucard’s hair.

“Promise...Promise!”

Staring deep into those pristine blue eyes and that beautiful flushed face, Alucard leaned down and pressed a long kiss to Trevor’s dry lips—the dhampir lovingly caressing his cheeks as he pulled away.

“I promise I will never leave you, Trevor.”

Trevor gasped for air from the kiss, smiling up at him.

“I love you, Alucard.”

Alucard blinked, pitying the man with another kiss to his lips.

“I...I love you too.”

Taking a final few loving strokes of Trevor’s hair, Alucard watched as the sickly man quickly slipped back into unconciousness as the dhampir took off his coat and covered it over him— the hunter hugging the coat in his sleep.

Making sure there was enough water left in the waterskin to tide Trevor over if he ever awoke, Alucard placed the waterskin within Trevor’s reach before turning to ascend out of the Belmont hold—the dhampir taking one last look of the hunter before he left for the forest of Arges; his pale cheeks still slightly pink from the kiss.

Chapter Text

They traveled for about three hours on Dracula’s back before the King of Darkness came to an abrupt halt in an open field, the three travelers gripping tight into his fur jolting forward at the motion.

Issac glanced down at his furry master—Dracula heaving with breath.

“Why have we stopped?”

Dracula only responded with a long grunt before laying down in the grass with his head between his paws; Issac, Hector, and Sypha sliding off of him to examine their lord—Hector touching his rising and falling flank before speaking gently, the forgemaster smiling kindly at the giant wolf.

“I think he is just tired—Are you tired, my lord?”

Raising his giant head, Dracula nodded and blinked at Hector in agreement, Issac dipping his head.

“Then we will rest here until you feel strong enough to continue, my lord.”

Placing his head back down with another odd grunt, Sypha, Hector, and Issac all sat down within the field as the sound of insects filled their ears, Sypha eventually curled up against Dracula with closed eyes as he wrapped his fluffy tail around her, Hector lying on his back as he gazed up at the twinkling stars above—the forgemaster noticing a few flowers around him bending to the breeze in the night.

He glanced over to Sypha before plucking and looping them into a flower crown—Hector dropping the crown over her head playfully as he approached her— Sypha opening one eye as the crown drooped over her head.

Hector laughed at this, Sypha sitting up to take off the flower crown and inspect it—her brows raising.

“What’s this?” She asked.

Hector sat down next to her, placing the crown back onto her head.

“Well, it’s your crown of course—Every princess needs a crown.”

Sypha snorted, taking it off.

“Really? Well, if that’s so—then that means every king needs a crown as well...”

Crawling up onto Dracula’s back, Sypha reached down to her master’s head and placed the flower crown around his large ears; Dracula opening his eyes at the touch as he lifted his head to his heiress in confusion—Sypha and Hector giggling at his reaction.

Giggles turning into loud chuckles, Hector held his stomach and fell over next to Sypha as Dracula growled and tried to shake off the flower crown from his head; Issac suddenly lunging forward to slice the flower crown in two with his weapon—the flowers fluttering off of Dracula back to the earth.

Hector and Sypha’s laughter stopped at this as Dracula watched as the petals from the flowers scattered about in the wind, Sypha standing up with a huff.

“Issac! Why did you do that? Hector made that for me!”

“My apologies, Sypha.”  Issac said rather quickly, “But it was bothering him—“

Hector raised a playful brow as he stood as well, throwing an arm around Sypha with a grin.

“Jealous, Issac?”

Issac shook his head, bourbon eyes meeting Sypha’s blue.

“No. But I am rather grateful...”

Placing his hand within his cloak, Issac retrieved and revealed a beautiful ruby pendant with a golden chain to Sypha, Issac and Dracula widening their eyes at the jewelry as Sypha gaped at it—taken aback by its gleam.

“Here,” Issac said as he stiffly handed it to Sypha, “This is for the health potion you gave me. I discovered it upon one of the many corpses I am given that are killed by the night hordes. It was tangled around the neck of a deceased noblewoman.”

Clasping the pendant in her hands, Sypha rubbed her thumb across its blood-red, smooth exterior as Issac continued, Hector crossing his arms in silent envy as Dracula rolled his eyes; the vampire laying his head back down to the grassy floor beneath him.

“I have never recieved or given a gift before, so it only felt appropriate to give you something in return,” Issac explained, “Other than Dracula, no one has ever shown me such outward generosi—“

But before Issac could finish his sentence, Sypha stood upon her tip-toes with a smile and pressed a kiss to Issac’s cheek—the forgemaster flinching a bit with a shocked expression as Sypha pushed back her hair and clasped the necklace on; the pendant reflecting in the moonlight.

“It is a beautiful gift, Issac. Thank you.”

Issac then awkwardly cleared his throat, shaking off his emotion.

“You are welcome, princess.”

Lifting his ears rather suddenly—Dracula perked his head up at something in the distance with a chuff and stood to his full form, his tail held high.

Hector and Issac turned around at the noise, Sypha rushing to her master’s side.

Hector furrowed his brow, Dracula whimpering a bit.

“What is it, my lord? Is something wrong—?”

Stroking his fur, Sypha tried to soothe Dracula’s cries and whimpers as he twitched and shifted from foot to massive foot before pulling back and taking off into a sprint across the midnight field; Sypha clinging onto him with a sharp yelp in terror as Hector and Issac ran after the two—Dracula chasing after memories from long ago.

Chapter Text

Screaming into his fur, Sypha tried to protect herself from the cold, almost painful air that buffered her skin, tears blooming in the corners of her eyes from the wind as the sky and ground spurred past her and melded into one; Dracula jerking forward with a stop and tossing Sypha forward into a sea of black.

Plumetting into a freezing wetness, Sypha became submerged deep into salty water as a tide pulled her thrashing body further out into it’s depths; the heiress opening her eyes slightly to see the blurry light of the moon reflecting just above the surface of the water—the moonlight growing brighter and brighter as it pulled her into a vision, Sypha swimming towards it with a hand reached out...

The moonlight enveloping her with it’s blinding rays, Sypha saw within her mind’s eye the outstretch of a shore, a blue ocean crashing onto the sand as it’s waves receded back to reveal a man bathing himself in the shallow part of the shore; his back to Sypha as his long, dark hair billowed around his shoulders—water dripping down the curve of his back.

Pale skin glistening in the sunlight, Sypha watched as the man turned his head to reveal a pair of familiar steel-gray eyes, his broad shoulders slightly pink from a sunburn.

Striding out of the water, the man flipped his hair to one side and began to wring the salt water from it as he approached a cluster of tall grass—a blonde haired peasant boy no more than twenty hiding within it as the man parted the grass to leer over him; the young man gasping in suprise as he looked up at the man with large blue eyes and a red, flushed face—the older man snorting and offering the boy his hand with a sly grin.

“It is rude to watch others without their consent, you know...care to join me?”

Drymouthed, the boy rolled his eyes up and down the naked, muscular man before scrambling away in embarrasment and shame—the sunlight fading away into darkness as the waves began to glow an iridescent blue as another naked figure stood at the edge of the shore; this one unmistakably feminine in the curves of her silhouette —her wet blonde hair stuck to her shoulders and cheeks.

Standing still as the waves lapped at her ankles, the woman lovingly rubbing her hands across her swollen belly as a wolf-form Dracula approached her side whimpering pitifully with his ears down; the woman turning to lightly pet his head, her blue eyes soft and filled with warmth.

“Don’t worry love, I won’t go far...”

At this, Dracula gave a snort and moved protectively in front of her—the vampire seperating her from the luminescent ocean as he placed his head over her pregnant belly, the child inside kicking fiercely as her stomach shifted and moved; the woman gasping and clutching her stomach in pain as she fell to the shore, Dracula widening his red eyes in worry.

Crying once more, Dracula wrapped  himself around the woman and began to lick her stomach to soothe the still growing child inside, the woman’s belly going still as she took in a deep breath; chuckling a bit.

“I suppose I won’t be swimming tonight, then...”

Huffing in response, Dracula curled his thick tail around her and began to sniff her for any injuries before continuing to lick her as a mother would her pup, The woman snuggling into his fur as she gazed up at the stars, a dreamy look on her face.

“Vlad...I think I have decided on a name for our baby...”

Pausing, Dracula tilted his head, ears perked in interest as she grinned at him and began to hum sweetly; stroking his muzzle as she whispered to him.

“If I am to bear us a daughter—we will name her Sabrina Celsius Tepes. If I am to bear a son, we will name him...Adrian. Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes. Do you approve, love?”

Tail wagging, Dracula nodded in agreement before leaning down to nuzzle her belly, the woman laughing as she scratched behind his ears and kissed his head—the vision fading away as Sypha finally broke through the surface of the water to take in deep gulps of air; the heiress coughing and gasping as she waded herself out of the ocean, Hector and Issac both echoing her name as they rushed to aid her.

“Sypha—!”

Pulling her out onto the damp sand of the shore, Sypha stumbled over her soaked through cape and dress as she shivered from the cold temperature of the water, Dracula whining loudly next to them as he wept bloody tears; the vampire throwing back his head and howling  in distress as the three watched him, Sypha hugging herself in the moonlight.

“What...what is he doing?” Hector asked aloud, “Is he calling for a pack?”

Unable to look away from the grieving monster, Sypha blinked her tears away and shook her head; voice quiet.

“N-No...He’s...He’s calling to his wife...He’s calling to his wife...Lisa...”

At this answer, Hector and Issac became silent as Sypha joined her master’s side and hugged him around his neck; her pale face burying into his fur as he continued to howl—his bloodied tears falling down his snout and staining the sand below in swirls and dots.

Chapter Text

When Dracula had finally shed all of the bloody tears he could, the three climbed atop of him once more and traveled for another hour until they made it to the entrance of the forest of Arges; Dracula stepping into the deep of the wilderness cautiously as Sypha shivered and clung to Issac—Hector wrapping his cloak around her to protect her from the cold.

A full moon hanging over head, Dracula sniffed for the scent of werewolves as Sypha, Hector and Issac slid off their master to the forest floor; Issac peeking past the branches of a tree to reveal the distant city of Arges—swirls of smoke from the town filling the night air.

Hector kneeled to examine a set of large paw-prints imbedded in the dirt, his blue eyes meeting Sypha’s.

“Sypha, you said that werewolves live in groups, correct?”

Sypha trembled, pulling Hector’s cloak tightly around her.

“Well, not exactly...most werewolves prefer to live in packs with other males—but some prefer to live alone without the company of others.”

Issac turned, eyebrow raised.

“That...sounds quite similar to what humans may do...”

“Well, of course it does!” Sypha chimed as she kneeled down next to Hector to outline the paw-print with her finger.

“Werewolves were all once humans,—or at least born to one, that is.”

Hector widened his eyes.

“You can be born a werewolf?”

Sypha nodded.

“Oh, yes! Werewolf cubs can be born—but only to human women. It’s why there are so many tall tales of young women and girls being kidnapped by werewolves and forced into their packs—“

Hearing a rustle of movement from behind a cluster of trees, Hector, Issac, and Sypha stood defensively as Dracula growled and approached the source of the noise with a bark; two dark-haired skinny boys revealing themselves on their hands and feet from behind the crooked branches and leaves in ragged, ripped trousers—their limbs tensed up and teeth bared as they backed away from the King of Darkness, whimpering.

Nipping at their sides a bit too viciously, Dracula cornered the cowering boys against a tree as they pressed against each other’s pale trembling forms—Dracula barking at the ‘children’ once more before nodding his head at Sypha to approach; the heiress joining her master’s side.

Werewolf cubs...

For a long moment, Sypha just stared at the two boys and their filthy, dirt coated skin as they twitched their pointed ears and scratched at the earth below them nervously with their sharpened nails; their pupil-less green eyes staring back at her.

Once the boys had relaxed their muscles and began to move about, Sypha fell to her knees lightly and smiled at the cubs, her voice as soft and friendly as she could make it.

“Hello... My name is Sypha...do either of you...understand me?”

Tilting their heads at her, the two boys looked to each other in confusion before one of them nudged the other forward with a grunt—the cub crawling towards  Sypha on all fours to smell her before standing up on his feet to answer her; his voice weak and scratchy sounding.

“Yes. I do. My name is Sorin.”

“Well Sorin,” Sypha began as she gestured to Dracula, “Do you know who this is?”

Sorin glanced to Dracula quickly  before shaking his head—his long brown hair swishing around his chin.

“No.”

“This is Vlad Dracula Tepes—The King of Darkness.” Sypha explained.

“He demands you bring him to the alpha of these woods. Can you do that, Sorin?”

Eyes bulging, Sorin looked back and forth between Dracula and Sypha with an astounded expression before turning to the other cub and communicating what he had just been told in a series of barks and yips—the other boy looking at Dracula with the same awed expression.

Grinning widely, Sorin turned back around to Sypha and Dracula as the other cub morphed into his wolf-form and ran off; excitement growing in Sorin’s raspy voice.

“Y-Yes...Yes! Follow me!”

Shifting into his wolf-form as well—Sorin wagged his new little tail happily and then padded forward to lead the four deeper into the forest; the howls of the awakened beasts heard echoing over the trees.

Chapter Text

Golden head bowed low beneath the sky, Alucard entered the sleeping city of Arges slowly as he passed candle-lit windows and blackened doorways; an eerie silence settled over the city.

Alucard took note of this recurring abnormality as he drifted down the winding path of the city, the dhamphir on guard for Dracula’s army or night hordes.

Becoming closer step by step to the entrance of Arges’ forest, Alucard glanced about as the area shifted from firm standing homes and shops to charred ruins and burial grounds as half-awake, dimly moving men dug holes for the still decaying dead left to rot in the street; some stilling in the moonlight to pray over the corpses before tossing them into the freshly dug graves— one of the men pausing in his digging to look to Alucard.

“I wouldn’t go that way if I were you, lad...”

Alucard stopped in his tracks, eyes closing.

“And why is that?”

“Because that’s the way to the forest...Don’t you know what lies within there?”

Alucard sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the man.

“I am just here to collect some herbs...”

“Then spare yourself and go and collect herbs somewhere else, lad.” The man suggested, “That forest is infested with the devil’s spawn—“

“I am the devil’s spawn.” Alucard suddenly stated to the man as the others around him stopped to stare and listen to the dhampir, “And as long as I am here, within this city—you will never be frightened of whatever lives inside those woods—not even if Dracula himself wanders within it— do you understand?”

Taken aback by his words, the man gaped for a moment and then slowly nodded to Alucard before the dhampir turned to continue his trek towards the forest—a string of whispered hymns following after him as the men muttered prayers of protection—their holy words scattering out into the wind as Alucard thought of his mother, the howling of the children of the night calling to him.

Chapter Text

Led through the forest by Sorin, The four followed after the rambunctious wolf cub as he hopped about and yipped at them to keep up, the cub taking them deeper and deeper between the trees.

Pushing past vines and brush—Sorin eventually brought them to the very center of the forest where an old, hollowed out oak tree stood gnarled and mighty amongst the  tall green grass surrounding it as fireflies blinked in and out against the full moon in the sky—the clearing empty.

Throwing back his head, Sorin flattened his ears and raised his muzzle to the stars above in a sharp, whistling little howl—the noise awakening the pack hiding within as several werewolves awoke from the tall grass with jaw-opened yawns; their naked, human mates rising with them along with their pups in a great stretch as several other werewolf cubs howled back in response, some of the cubs that were napping in the tall grass crawling through it towards the noise.

Swarming them with yips and wriggles of excitement, the werewolf cubs surrounded them as they greeted Sorin with licks to his face and ears while casually sniffing at the four newcomers with curiousty; a feminine voice yelling at them from afar.

“Pups, pups—! Please, don’t crowd!”

Running through the field as more werewolves awoke from their slumber in the grass, a tanned and freckled red-haired woman sprinted towards the sea of cubs in nothing but a deerskin skirt and a green knit shawl that covered her chest; the cubs directing their attention to her instead.

Calming the pack with gentle strokes and rumbling growls, the woman soothed the cubs into silence before looking to Dracula— her green eyes widening in suprise

“Vlad! I—I haven’t seen you—Ovid hasn’t seen you since Adrian was—!”

Letting out a small sigh in exasperation, the woman rushed forward and hugged the vampire tightly around his neck—Hector, Sypha, and Issac watching in suprise as she spoke softly.

“I’m so terribly sorry about Lisa. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. Ovid and I grieve with you, and support you in your war against humanity.”

Shifting in his form, Dracula changed from his wolf form back into his black and red robes; his arms wrapping around the woman as he closed her eyes, his voice raw.

“Your words are appreciated, Edith.”

“I’m glad,” Edith responded as she pulled away from him, “But why have you come?”

“I wish to speak to Ovid.” Dracula stated.

“Is he here?”

Edith shook her head, arms folding behind her waist as some of the cubs stood upon their hind legs and tugged at her skirt—others hiding behind her shyly at the newcomers.

“No. He is out leading a hunting party right now—“

Turning her head to Sypha, Edith finally noticed someone other than the King of Darkness—her green eyes locking onto the heiress like a cat that had just found a mouse as she cooed, smiling to her.

“Who is this beautiful maiden? A  new bride—“

Sypha stepped back in disgust at this suggestion as she blushed in embarrasment, shaking her head as she pulled Hector’s cloak tighter around her.

“No! No—I’m—I am the heiress to his throne. My name is Sypha—Sypha Belnades.”

Offering the woman her hand, Edith took it and let out a little noise of suprise; her long fingers running along Sypha’s cold, salt-water dried skin.

“Oh my...!”

Rubbing her thumb along Sypha’s knuckles, Edith lifted the heiress’ hand delicately and drifted her touch past Sypha’s wrist and up her covered arm— Edith pushing up the sleeves of her dress to feel the goosebumps developing there.

“Goodness, you are freezing!” She exclaimed as she examined her bunched up sleeves.

“And your dress is damp...”

Sypha pushed back a lock her growing hair behind her ear, glaring at Dracula as she faked a smile.

“I apologize for my apperance, But I had a bit of an accident while traveling here...”

“Is that so? Well, I can’t have Dracula’s own heiress getting sick from staying in damp, stiffening clothes all night,” Edith stated as she placed her hands on her hips before gesturnig Sypha to follow her.

“Come with me, I’ll bring you to a lake when you can bathe and put you into something dry and warm.”

Sypha grinned, dipping her head with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you.”

Joining Edith’s side, the two turned to abandon the three men before Edith glanced over her shoulder to Dracula, pupils glinting.

“You are free to await for Ovid in our cave just outside of camp— do you still recall where it is?”

Dracula nodded to her from afar, a small smile on his lips.

“Of course I do.”

“Good.”

Linking her arm with Sypha’s, Edith then led the heiress through the thick grass as Dracula stepped forward and weaved around the furry audience before him—the werewolf cubs scattering back into the field to play as Hector and Issac followed after their lord.

Yet, as the three began to leave for the cave, little Sorin trotted behind with a wagging tail as he whimpering and scratched at Issac and Hector’s legs—Issac ignoring the cub while Hector smiled down at the cub with a boyish gleam in his eyes, the forgemaster paralyzed where he was by the werewolf pup’s cuteness and cries.

Kneeling down to the pup’s height, Hector glanced around Issac to see if Dracula was looking before quickly scooping up Sorin into his arms—the cub’s limbs and tail sticking out as he leaned up to lick Hector’s face; the forgemaster laughing at this as he then picked up his pace to catch up with his lord and Issac, Sorin squirming happily against him.

Chapter Text

Weaving through the outline of trees down a dirt-trodden path, Dracula made his way slowly to his old friends cave as Issac and Hector followed after; Hector lagging behind as he played with the werewolf cub in his arms with a large grin—Sorin biting and nipping at Hector’s fingers.

Entering the cave, Dracula made his way through the darkness that enveloped the cave as if he was apart of it—the vampire leading the two forgemaster’s down twisting and tight tunnels until he entered the main cave where Ovid and Edith slept with their horde of cubs; the thick-furred skins of hunted animals hung and decorated around the cave proudly as knitted blankets and tanned hides softened the floor as a heap of werewolf cubs slept in a large pile at the center—their little ears and  limbs twitching as they slowly awakened at the new scents that had entered their father’s cave; their noses wriggling.

Raising each of their little heads to yawn and stretch, the cubs got up and bounded towards Dracula and his forgemaster’s as Hector beamed down at the furry little balls of teeth and tail—Sorin twitching happily as he yipped down at his brothers and sisters; Issac glaring down at the cubs.

Dracula sighed.

I should send these little ones out before Issac decides to kick them to death...

Clapping his hands, Dracula commanded the pups attention as they whipped each of their little heads up at the King of Darkness; the vampire rumbling out a command.

“Cubs! I have business with your father—go and play out in the clearing with Hector, he’ll keep an eye on you—won’t you, Hector?”

Shocked with joy, Hector looked up at his master with a large smile, his eyebrows raised in suprise as the pups ran around him excitedly—Sorin chewing at the ends of his silver hair.

“W-Well...m-my lord...I-I...Yes. Yes, I will!”

Looking down at the cubs, Hector gestured for them to follow him—the forgemaster giddy with happiness.

“Follow me, cubs!”

Obeying the forgemaster, Sorin leapt out of Hector’s arms and barked at his siblings to follow as the swarm of cubs chased after Hector through the tunnel the three had entered from; Dracula chuckling at the sight as Issac shook his head with a sigh—arms crossing.

“Why did you allow him to do that?”

Dracula waved Issac away, smiling as he drifted across the cave.

“Oh let the boy have his fun, Issac.” Dracula said.

“In fact, I suggest you join him—“

“Fine then,” Issac huffed out as he made his way to the tunnel as well, “I will go and keep an eye on him.”

“Make sure those cubs don’t bite off his fingers,” Dracula commented, “Their little teeth are as sharp as razors...”

Issac echoed back a reply, voice distant.

“I will keep that in mind, my lord.”

Listening to Issac’s pace fade away, Dracula waited alone within the cave until he detected the familiar sound of heavy steps and breathy pants of air; a muscular, tanned and half-naked Ovid entering the threshold with a shake of his long, sweat-soaked hair as a rabbit skin loincloth covered his middle—his amber eyes landing upon the vampire.

He smiled tiredly at him with blood stained canines— his weathered face framed and almost hidden by his tangled grey and white locks.

“I was wondering when I would have the pleasure of seeing you again...”

Dracula snorted, examining the man with a slight grin.

Old dog hasn’t changed a bit...

“I wouldn’t exactly consider my presence a ‘pleasure’, Ovid. Especially due to the particular circumstance in which I have come to see you.”

The werewolf pushed his stringy hair out of his face— this revealing a scar across his nose as he scratched at the white scruff on his jaw, his tempered skin filthy with dirt and inchor.

“Right to the point, eh? Not gonna ask about Edith and I? Or my new litter of cubs—?”

Dracula slightly huffed, becoming impatient.

“I would like to skip the usual pleasanties if you don’t mind, Ovid...”

Taken aback a bit by his response, Ovid paused for a moment before sighing and picking up one of the many blankets on the floor to wrap around his shoulders—the alpha gesturning for the vampire to follow him.

“I understand. Come along then and let us discuss why you have come to see me over a drink and a smoke, old friend—and let us forget the past, if only for a night.”

Saying nothing, Dracula followed Ovid silently through another tunnel of the cave; the vampire knowing very well that the past could never be forgotten—or forgiven.

Chapter Text

Leading Sypha out of the clearing, Edith brought the heiress to a flowing river where other members of the werewolf pack were bathing themselves or their cubs—some even washing their clothes near the trickling of a waterfall as wet clothes and linens were hung to dry over the branches of trees that loomed over the rushing water—the full moon above giving light to the forest and all that was within it.

Shocked by the beauty of the night, Sypha took in a cool breath of air and gazed up at the brimming star-filled sky; a gust of wind whipping around her playfully as Edith began to take off her cape and bandolier, a smile on her lips.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

Sypha turned to grin at her—the ends of her curly hair swishing around her shoulders.

“It is magnificent! Iv’e never seen so many stars before—!”

Draping the bandolier and cape over her shoulder, Edith then began to aid the heiress in removing her stiffened black dress while Sypha unlaced her riding boots and kicked them off; a chuckle escaping the older woman.

“Stars always fill the sky when there is a full moon...On nights like these, I usually practice my craft and keep an eye on the formation of the constellations and planets—“

Sypha paused mid-pull of her stockings, eyes alighting with excited interest.

“You’re a witch?”

Edith laughed, crouching down to help Sypha remove her stockings.

“Born and raised!”

“Amazing—! Iv’e never met a witch before! Are you apart of a coven?” Sypha asked.

Edith paused with a hum before answering as she tossed the heiress’s stockings over her free arm, Sypha’s now bare feet resting against the damp earth as she began to slowly wriggle herself out of her dress.

“I was, once. Before I had joined the pack, I was born into one with my mother as the High Priestess in Gresit. When I was eighteen, I was sent away at my mother’s request to travel all across Wallachia so that I could study the stars and better my moon magic. Along my travels I met Ovid and...well...the rest is history.”

Finally escaping the clutches of her clothing, Sypha tossed the cursed dress to the side carelessly before running fullspeed towards the water with a playful grin as she dived in with a splash; Edith chuckling at Sypha’s facetiousness as a handful of onlookers looked towards the sound of the noise—Sypha breaking the surface with a gasp and a shake of her wet hair.

She smoothed her bangs back behind her ears, smiling up at Edith apologetically.

“Sorry! Did I get you wet?”

Edith shook her head, All of Sypha’s belongings either slung over her shoulders or neatly folded in her arms.

“Not at all. Now, you go ahead and clean yourself up while I hang these up to dry—I’ll be back in just a moment with some clothes for you.”

Sypha nodded.

“Okay!”

Turning away from the heiress, Edith dissapeared past the ring of trees shrouding the entrance to the river and left Sypha to her own devices—the speaker magician wasting no time in scrubbing her skin of sweat and saltwater.

As she bathed, she noticed some pack members, human and non-human glance over at her in curiousty as the endless chatter of words, whimpers, and growls mixed into the night air.

Lacing her fingers into her hair, Sypha squeezed out what little water her hair had absorbed and stared up at the stars—thinking back to what Edith had said.

I wonder how she ‘reads’ them...

Furrowing her brow, Sypha searched the sky for sets of constellations as Dracula’s voice echoed at the back of her head—the heiress recalling the night he read to her a book on astronomy.

‘There is the Ursa Major...Orion...Canis Major and minor...and the magnificent Ophiuchus...’

Unable to identify any, she dropped her gaze to the water where she stared down at the grand but darkened reflection of the moon; the light it displayed glinting off the ripples in the river brightly.

Blinking, Sypha stared intensely at the glowing light of moon’s reflection as she reached out a finger and sent a wave of ripples across the the surface of the water; another vision overcoming her...

Chapter Text

Blinding once more by the light of the moon, Sypha found herself once more diving deep into the darkened reflection as the image of a wolf-form Dracula paced nervously back and forth next to the slow stream of a river; the shout of a woman stopping him in his tracks.

“Vlad, Vlad—!”

He raised his head, a younger-looking Edith rushing towards him from the cluster of trees as she bounced around him excitedly, squealing with delight.

“She’s given birth! Lisa has finally given birth—!”

At this, Dracula shifted from his wolf form back to his normal fan—his red eyes wide with excitement and worriment as he gripped Edith’s shoulders, words spilling out of his mouth.

“When? What time? Did she survive? Is she alright? How many has she had? Three? Six? Seven? Are they healthy? Is she healthy?What are their sexes? Do they look like—“

But before the new vampire father could recieve an answer to any of his questions, Edith silenced him with a pull of his arm towards the forest; the landscape shifting from the green and blue of the natural earth to the grey, black coolness of a cave—Dracula awkwardly standing at the entrance of a tunnel as he stared at the scene of an exhausted, pale-looking Lisa curled comfortably in a bundle of yellow hay and blankets as a thin linen sheet covered her nakedness; the calming smell of milk and warmth beckoning him forward.

Crouching carefully next to his wife, Dracula placed a gentle but massive hand on Lisa’s back—the new mother stirring at his touch.

She glanced up at him with a sleepy smile, her blue eyes half-lidded.

“Vlad...”

But before Lisa could mutter another word, Dracula leaned down and silenced her with a kiss to her mouth as he nuzzled her face and embraced her gently—the fierce squeaking of an unknown creature filling the cave as Lisa shakily lifted up the linen covering her; the mother revealing to her husband the source of the noise to be a fluffy, white wolf cub squirming against her breasts.

Lisa beamed down at him, gaze filled with overwhelming endearment as Dracula’s eyes widened at the cub, Lisa scooping the cub up into her delicate hands.

“Vlad...You woke him up...”

Gathering the pup close against her collarbone, Lisa stroked the newborn’s fur and hummed a soothing tune as she kissed the cub’s furry little head; his cries quieting at her beautiful vibratto.

Overwhelmed with emotions, Dracula watched as Lisa lulled the cub back to sleep; the vampire lost for words.

“Is tha...Is that...I-Is that my...our...?”

Lisa looked up at him, a chuckle escaping her.

“Yes, Vlad. This is our baby—our son— Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes.”

Mouth partially agape, Dracula sat up and crawled around his wife to get a better look at his son, the vampire reaching out to lightly brush his fur with his knuckles as he met his wife’s eyes; trembling with excitement.

“May I...C-Can I—?”

“Of course,” Lisa answered as she lifted the cub from her collarbone, “Here, show me your hands.”

Sitting straight up, Dracula stiffly obeyed as Lisa placed the now sleeping newborn in his palms; the vampire nervously cradling the cub as he gazed down at his precious, tiny son—bloody tears welling in his eyes.

“Oh Lisa...He’s...He’s perfect...” Dracula said between choked sobs as he kissed his child’s head,

“Completely, and utterly perfect.”

With those last words echoing in Sypha’s ears; Sypha blinked away the vision as she once more found herself pulled back into reality as she stared at the surface of the water— the reflection of the moon gone.

Sypha sighed, raising her head back to the sky.

Why did he change?

He loved Lisa, and at one point, loved Adrian.

He loved him so much, that he even believed him to be perfect.

And now—he just sees him as an obstacle.

A mere wrinkle in his plan...

Sighing, Sypha waded out of the river and held herself as she shivered from the coolness in the air, droplets of water rolling down her skin.

I wonder if he still thinks about him from time to time...

Teeth beginning to chatter, Sypha let out a little huff of discomfort and then opened both of her hands to conjure flames at her palms; the heiress slowly hovering the flames over the goosebumps rising on her skin as she began to dry herself off.

Or if he still even loves him...

Chapter Text

Led by Ovid through more cramped tunnels, the vampire soon found himself stepping into the familiar dark cavern that him and the dear alpha had shared their  conversations and lack of sobriety; Dracula touching his palm to the cool inner walls of the cove.

Closing his eyes, the vampire took in a deep breath as Ovid slashed his nails across the ground; creating a massive spark that lit a series of candles that surrounded the nooks and crannies of the cave in one quick swoop of air.

Candlelight flickering, the werewolf glanced over his shoulder at his friend as his enlogated shadow cast itself against the walls hauntingly: clay jars, pots, and jugs standing guard behind him as a smoking pipe made of bone hung against the wall above him.

His yellow eyes glowed in the dimness, a smirk on his face.

“Recalling memories?”

At this, Dracula finally exhaled with a grimace, his cape sweeping against the smooth but rocky floor as he stooped down and sat in the middle of the cavern that was covered with multiple kinds of furry animal skins— the vampire crossing his long legs uncomfortably.

“None that I wish to remember...”

Frowning at this, Ovid turned to grab one of the many pots behind him as he lifted the smoking pipe gingerly off of the wall into his hands; the werewolf sitting crossed-legged across from Dracula as he dug his hand into the pot and retrieved a fist-full of hemp buds— the alpha filling the end of the pipe to the brim with the dried flower.

He held it out to the vampire, head dipping.

“Care to do the honors?”

Dracula sighed, huffing a bit.

“Must I?”

Ovid nodded.

“Yes—as is tradition.”

Accepting the tradition with a grumble, Dracula took the pipe in hand and lit the buds inside with a small flame he had conjured at the tips of his fingers; the vampire bringing the pipe to his mouth as he inhaled slowly— white smoke escaping his lips.

Oh God—!

Coughing raggedly, Dracula handed the pipe back to Ovid, the alpha laughing loudly at his reaction.

“Still terrible at smoking, I see...”

Bloody tears welling in his eyes, Dracula blinked them away as best as he could as he tried to recollect himself from the embarrassing action; the vampire continuing to cough haggardly as Ovid paused mid-smoke to grab a jug swishing with liquid behind him.

He slid it to his friend, yellow eyes aglow.

“Here, drink this.”

Taking Ovid’s advice, Dracula took the jug into his hands and lifted it to his lips; only swallowing a few mouthfuls as the strong taste of alcohol mixed with juniper berries tinged his tongue—the alpha puffing lightly on the pipe.

He watched him drink silently for a moment as smoke began to fill the cave, the werewolf’s body relaxing and loosening as he sat back calmly; his shoulders sinking.

“When I returned from my hunt, I honestly didn’t believe you were here to visit at me first...Or that you had brought humans with you.”

Dracula lowered the jug, red eyes burning through the fog.

“Is there a problem with this?”

Ovid snorted, reaching out for the jug himself.

“Oh, no...I just think it’s a bit ironic for someone who wishes to destroy all of humanity to be aided by what is supposed to be his enemy.”

Dracula closed his eyes, facepalming.

Not this again...

“Is that truly what it looks like to an outsider?”

Ovid nodded, taking a swig of alcohol from the jug hardily.

Dracula sighed, sitting up.

“The humans that traveled with me here are not my enemies— two of them are forgemasters and are currently building up my army of nightcreatures, and are my only two generals not driven by a vampiric thirst.”

“And the girl?” Ovid asked.

Blinking at this question, Dracula lowered his eyes to the black bear-skin he was sitting upon; hesitating.

“She is my prisoner. My pet. Gifted to me unexpectedly by a general from my court.”

“Yet from what I heard, you have made her a second heir to your throne...” Ovid mused, “Why is that?”

“I have discovered she is quite intelligent, and rather powerful in magic. So I am using her to further my advances in the war.” Dracula explained, “In fact, she is why I have come to visit you in the first place...”

Drifting the conversation away from the subject at hand, Dracula then began to explain in detail Sypha’s idea for the werewolves in the war along with the strategic battle plan she had created—Ovid slowly dipping his head in thought as he listened, puffing slowly on the pipe.

When Dracula was finished with his proposition, he sat and awaited patiently for Ovid to answer, the werewolf pausing to blow smoke out of his nose.

“Because you are my king, and I cannot refuse an order or request, I will humbly agree in taking part of your war. But you are also one of my few, dearest friends—which means I must tell you when I believe you are acting recklessly or foolishly—“

At this, Dracula stood ferociously, snarling with a boom of his voice.

“YOU DARE CALL ME A FOOL!? ”

“No,” Ovid replied calmly with a smirk, “I dare to call you a hypocrite.”

Recoiling at this statement, Dracula widened his eyes with a furrowed brow as he clenched his fists angrily, Ovid looking up at him rather seriously now.

“You claim to despise humans—yet keep three of them in good company—“

“They are pawns, Ovid!” Dracula suddenly declared as he cut him off, “Just pawns in the grand scheme of things; nothing more and nothing less!”

Ovid tilted his head, gaze glinting.

“Yes—but do they know that?”

Silenced by this truth, Dracula parted his lips to say something but then shut his mouth; trembling with a wave of emotions.

Ovid paused in between his puffs of smoke, the alpha taking in a deep breath for exhaling—the cave now filled to the brim with thick, grey smoke.

“Vlad...I understand you are still grieving the death of Lisa—but I beg of you to remember that your wife was human—and at one point—you were as well.”

Dracula growled, turning his back to Ovid to leave the cavern.

“Save your breath, Ovid. I do not wish nor need to hear this—Just be sure to arrive at the castle within a week so we can go over battle plans.”

Yet as Dracula stepped through the tunnel leading out of the cavern, the vampire felt a strong hand grip his shoulder—holding him back.

He heard Ovid rumble with a slight chuckle behind him

“Alright, my friend...I will let you go. But before you leave, I want to ask you a question.”

Dracula huffed.

“Out with it then.”

“Do you truly think this is what Lisa would want?” Ovid asked, “For you to destroy the human race she had worked so hard to help cure and heal?”

I...I...

At this question, Dracula stiffened and stood for a long moment at the edge of the entrance; the vampire not responding to him as he left Ovid to travel back through the tunnels—doubts swirling along with the answer in his head.

I don’t know.

Chapter Text

When Edith had finally returned, Sypha dried what little drops of water were still clinging onto her body with a flannel the older women had brought her— the heiress dressing herself in a long green tunic and a patterned, multi-colored shawl as a small drawstring pouch cinched her middle and hung by her side—Sypha opening it gingerly to reveal the three corked vials still glowing with the violet antitode for lycanthropy.

Edith paused whilst brushing Sypha’s wet-hair with her long fingers—her green eyes peering down inside the pouch.

“Oh—! I found those among your belongings and believed them too important to be parted with you. Are you an alchemist, by chance?”

Recalling the vials great importance, Sypha sealed the pouch with a pull of a few strings and smiled up at Edith politely; linking her arm with the witch happily.

“Yes! Well— a learning one that is. Master Dracula has been teaching me.”

Edith lifted a brow, the witch taking lead away from the river and into the forest.

“Really? Well, I hope he isn’t too impatient of a teacher with you. Alchemy is a precise and at sometimes tedious craft—and can be quite tricky to learn and teach... why if I can recall, Lisa had quite a difficult time—“

Yet before Edith could finish her sentence, the two had returned to the center of the forest where the werewolf pack rested in the green field around the hollowed out tree that loomed over them in the dimness— The King of Darkness himself standing  before them with burning eyes and a scowl; Edith gasping a bit in suprise.

The witch looked up at him, clearing her throat awkwardly at his sudden appearance.

“V-Vlad...I—I apologize, I didn’t see you there nor realize you were approaching...Did you speak to Ovid?”

Dracula grumbled a response, irritated.

“Yes, I did, Edith—“

Grabbing his heiresses’ arm, Dracula pulled Sypha roughly away from the witch; snarling.

“Come. Were leaving.”

Sypha furrowed her brow and looked up at him confusedly as he dragged her into the field, the speaker magician quickening her pace to match her master’s as she glanced over to Edith; the two women exchanging looks of trepadation before the witch scurried off with a nod to investigate just what the vampire and her husband had spoke of— Sypha letting out a small huff of exasperation.

“Right now!?”

“Yes,” Dracula growled, “Right now—!”

Sypha wriggled out of his grasp and stopped in her stride, anger rising in her.

“What!? Why?”

Dracula whipped around to her, hissing with rage.

“Because I said so!”

At this, Sypha paused and crossed her arms—the young heiress having grown familiar with the vampire’s mood swings.

Knowing well by now that his anger was ignited usually by an outside force, Sypha began to question him—her voice lowering.

“Did Ovid not agree to join our war?”

Dracula shook his head.

“No.”

“Did someone say something to upset you?” Sypha asked.

Dracula bristled at her seemingly mocking question, voice raising.

“NO!”

“THEN WHY DO YOU WISH TO LEAVE SO SOON!?” Sypha shouted up at him.

The white of his eyes turning black, Dracula glared down at Sypha with the hatred of a thousand suns as he clenched his jaw; the young heiress only matching his ferocious look as he parted his lips to speak— his words gravely and sharp.

“Listen, you little—“

Suddenly cut off by a small tug at his pant leg; Dracula and Sypha both glanced down to see a small, barefooted little girl dressed in a much too large burgundy tunic looking up at Dracula with curious hazel eyes—her messy heap of red hair stark against her pale, freckled face.

She tilted her head up at him, her voice a sweet coo.

“Are you mister Dracula, sir?”

Taken aback by the young girl—who looked to be no more than five—the massive vampire just blinked down at her for a moment before answering her, his rough tone softening greatly.

“...Yes...”

“My dolly Anastasia got hurt while we were playing. She needs a doctor. Really bad. Mama told me you’re a doctor. Can you help her?”

Baffled by this request, Dracula began to sputter as he looked back and forth between Sypha and the child, the heiress smirking a bit at her master before squatting down and smiling, her tone friendly and inviting towards the girl.

“Of course he’ll help your dolly! Where is she, sweetheart?”

The girl perked up at this, one of her chubby little hands wrapping fully around one of the vampires long, grey fingers.

“Come on, I’ll show you!”

Being led away by a mere toddler, the blackness in Dracula’s eyes receded quickly back into white as he relaxed at the child’s touch, Sypha following behind the two with a smile, the heiress knowing well that she had trapped her master—if only just for another night.

Chapter Text

Following Dracula and the little girl deeper into the field; the three trekked through the thick, wild greenery where werewolves and their mates currently slept and rested beneath the moon and stars—the heiress hearing the familiar echo of an accented baritone.

“...And so the cannibalistic witch lured Hansel and Gretel into the candy house by promising them more sweets. The grateful children were given food and shelter from the horrendous, wild elements of the forest that night. But, it was all a filthy, disgusting trick— for the next day, Hansel awoke all alone within a cold, metal cage filled with the dead remains of the witch’s last eaten victim—and had come to realize the witch had made his little sister a servant to her wicked deeds. For weeks, the witch ordered Gretel to feed Hansel her bewitched delicacy’s, no matter how much he screamed, begged, and choked through his own vomit and sickness for his sister to stop and spare him...But one day, when the witch believed Hansel to be fat enough to finally feast upon, Gretel tricked the witch into opening the cage so that she may cook her own brother for the witch to eat. Yet, as the witch prepared the oven in the kitchen so that Gretel may cook her own brother for her—Hansel and Gretel both pushed the helpless old woman into the firey flames of the oven—where she was burned alive and her wrinkly old skin melted off of her very bones, and her eyes sizzled to nothing in pure, writhing, and ceaseless agony!”

Oh dear...I know that voice...

Pulling them towards the voice, Dracula and Sypha exchanged concerned glances before the small girl lead them to a flattened part of the clearing to reveal the morbid storyteller to be Issac—the forgemaster sitting cross-legged as a group of young human-formed werewolf cubs sat around him, his bourbon eyes glinting maliciously as he looked down at the small cubs; his voice cold and ominous.

“Now children...how do you think that feels?”

At this question, the cubs were dead silent. But slowly, one by one—each of their little faces began to scrunch up in distress as a loud wail escaped their mouths and rose into the air; tears and snot welling and spilling down their reddened faces as Issac sat back and watched with a triumphant smirk, Sypha gasping aloud in shock.

“Issac—!”

Hearing their cubs cries of distress, a few of the surrounding werewolves rose from their spot in the grass and clambored over with perked, alert ears—the furry mothers and fathers growling and gnashing their teeth threateningly at Issac as the cubs ran to their respected parents to be comforted, Sypha charging Issac fiercely and tackling him to the grass floor as she ruthlessly began to hit and kick him—Issac lightly chuckling at her attack as he rolled about with her and allowed her to sit above him batter him with her tiny fists; her voice rising to a high pitch as she yelled.

“You JERK! How DARE you make poor innocent little werewolf cubs cry!? You should be ASHAMED of yourself! ABSOLUTELY and COMPLETELY ashamed! You go and APOLOGIZE to them RIGHT NOW!”

Unharmed by her rage, Issac blocked her attacks with his forearms, catching one of her fists in his palms—pushing her off of him with a dazzlingly grin.

“They asked me to tell them a story, so I did—it is not my fault they became so terribly frightened!”

Sypha huffed, relenting her fists as she lowered them—still furious.

“You could have chosen a different story—!”

“Yes,” Issac agreed as he sat up next to her and wiped off any dirt or dust from his clothing, “But then I would not have recieved the rather entertaining reaction I was hoping for...”

Approaching the two languidly, Dracula released the hand of the tiny girl as she left his side to search in the grass for something, the vampire scolding the forgemaster.

“Still—you know better, Issac, and I—“

Suddenly faltering, Dracula performed a quick turn around and glanced about quickly—his red eyes flicking about before looking back down at Issac, brows furrowed coldly.

“Where is Hector?”

At this question, Issac stood up as Sypha joined him—hands folding behind his back

“He went off somewhere to play a game with the cubs...”

Dracula’s eyes burned at this, face twisting in rage.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE HE IS!?”

Issac crossed his arms, answering him quickly with a slight sigh.

“He said he was going to a meadow to play hide-and-seek with the cubs.”

Having been listening to the entire conversarion, the small girl—who was now clutching the limbs, torso, and head of a severed ragdoll against her chest— looked up at Issac from where she stood, her small voice catching the attention of the adults.

“Oh! You mean the meadow Mama lets us play in? I know where that is!”

“Can you take us there?” Sypha asked.

The little girl nodded, her wild red hair bobbing from the movement.

“Uh-huh, sure! But only if Mister Dracula helps Anastasia be put back together!”

Dracula groaned and rubbed his temples—patience running thin as he grimaced down at the child, his large, grey hand opening to her.

“Very well. Let me see the doll, child—“

“Floriana,” the small girl corrected as she dropped the remains of the beloved toy into his grey palm, “My name is Flo-ri-ana, and the patient’s name is Anastasia!”

Issac rolled his eyes at this; Dracula agreeing with a grumble before examining the mangled doll and frowning, brow rising.

“What did you even do to this doll? It looks almost completely destroyed—!”

Floriana shook her head, gesturing a hand to herself.

“I didn’t do it!”

Sypha’s lips upturned into a slight smile at the little girl’s response, the heiress crossing her arms.

“Oh, really? Then who did?”

Not missing a beat, Floriana pointed right at Issac; Sypha and Dracula’s eyes following her little finger as they both scowled at the perpetrator— the forgemaster defending himself calmly, smirking a bit.

“She asked me what ‘dismemberment’ meant.”

Sighing, Dracula lowered himself to the ground to sit, the vampire opening his free hand to Sypha.

“Needle.”

Sypha bristled at this.

“Excuse me?”

Dracula looked up at her, hand still open to her.

“I said, needle.”

“What do we say?” Sypha asked him.

Dracula growled, teeth gritting.

“NOW—“

“That’s not what you say!” Floriana chimed in next to the vampire, “You say ‘please!’”

Sypha beamed at the girl, joining Dracula on the grassy floor of the flattened part of the field.

“Yes, that’s exactly what you say, Floriana!”

At Sypha’s input, Floriana turned to the vampire; pointing once more.

“Say ‘please!’ to her.”

Muttering curses, Dracula gave in— hissing.

“Fine! Would you please give me a needle, Sypha?”

Obeying almost immediately, Sypha conjured up a sharp sewing-needle out of ice from her hand; the heiress handing it to him quickly as the vampire placed the limbs of Anastasia down in a heap next to him before plucking a few long blades of grass to substitute as thread—Dracula starting with the doll’s head as he slowly began to stitch the toy back together— Floriana climbing right into Sypha’s lap to watch as Sypha engaged in a friendly conversation with the toddler as Issac watched the child and heiress interact silently.

Yet as Dracula pulled and pushed the frozen needle through the fabric of the doll—he thought of his son. And for the first time, warmly smiled—recalling how much he used to love his mischievious little boy that somehow always broke or ruined his toys.

Chapter Text

Stitching the doll back together in no time at all, Dracula presented the doll to it’s owner—Floriana looking up from her conversation with Sypha as she gasped, squealing with delight.

“You fixed her! You really, truly fixed her! Thank you! Thank you so much—!”

Snatching the doll out of his hand, Floriana gave Anastasia a big hug before jumping out of Sypha’s lap to her feet and twirling about happily—Sypha and Dracula both watching her dance with the doll with soft smiles as Issac glared at the child; Sypha glancing over at the vampire with a raised brow.

“Whoa—Are you actually, genuinely smiling for once?”

At this, Dracula suddenly switched his happy expression to a stone cold one—sputtering out a response.

“O-Of course not—! I was just...brooding upon something.”

Sypha laughed at this, her tone teasing.

“Be careful, master! For a second, I thought you were actually enjoying life for once—!”

Growing impatient, Issac uncrossed his arms and approached the tiny girl—the forgemaster stopping Florianna admist her celebratory spinning with a strong hand on her shoulder.

“Alright, girl—he fixed your doll— now, bring us to the meadow.”

Dizzy, Floriana stumbled a bit before going still to shake her head, her hazy eyes blinking up at Issac for a moment before grinning widely.

“Okay!”

Turning around, Floriana gestured for Sypha and Dracula to stand before morphing into her wolf form to lead with Anastasia hanging from her jaws—the two rising up from where they were to follow her out of the field and into the forest where a hollow of trees stood—the rolling of a hill dipping to reveal a beautiful meadow greeting them from the distance with tall, thick grass and wildflowers; Hector standing in the middle of it with his hands over his eyes as he counted, voice giddy.

“...ninety-seven...ninety-eight...ninety-nine...one-hundred! Ready or not, here I come!”

Dropping his hands from his face, Hector gasped when he noticed his spectators from afar— his gaze falling to the newly dressed Sypha as he gaped a bit; face heating up at the sight of her.

“Sypha...!”

At the mentioning of her name, a head of messy, long brown hair popped up from within the grass of the meadow—Sorin lifting his dirty face to look about for the heiress

“Huh? Sypha? Is she here—?”

Seeing her atop the hill, Sorin let out a loud yelp of joy before pushing through the grass to run up to her— the other cubs coming out from hiding at the sound as they followed  their eldest brother, Sypha coming down the hill to greet them as Floriana changed back into her human form and sprinted down after Sypha towards her brothers and sisters; the werewolf cubs crowding her her with curious, excited eyes with Sorin at the very front—the boy very obviously the leader of the pack.

He smiled up at her, pointed ears twitching.

“Hi, Sypha! Do you remember me?”

Sypha chuckled and nodded— Issac and Dracula joining Sypha at the bottom of the hill.

“Of course I do! Are these all of your siblings?”

“Yep! Every single one!” Sorin replied, “Hector was just about to come lookin’ for us in a game of hide-and-seek!”

Sypha raised her brow at this as Hector hesitantly approached, hands at her hips.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! Hector is really good at finding us! He’s probably one of the best seekers I’ve ever played with—!” Sorin said before Dracula cut him off.

“Yes, that is all very nice cubs—but I am afraid your little games must come to an end. For we are leaving—“

Sypha whipped around to the vampire, glaring up at him.

“No, we are not—Besides, we don’t have enough time to travel all way back to the castle.”

“And why is that?” Dracula asked with a sneer.

Sypha stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“Because we are only a few hours away from dawn—and last time I checked— vampires burn to death in the sun! Especially big, tall stupid ones named Vlad Dracula Tepes!”

Huffing, Dracula opened his mouth to argue—Hector cutting into the conversation before the vampire could defend his decision.

“Sypha is right, my lord. If we leave now, we will have to stop admist our travel to find shelter from the day—and then await for night again before we could continue—“

“We also would have quite a high chance of being possibly spotted if we left in the coming hours,” Issac added, “For the townspeople of Arges would begin to awaken from their slumbers. It is in our best interest if we stay with the pack until dusk tomorrow.”

Flicking his red gaze between his forgemasters in suprise—Dracula seethed as he fixed his eyes on Sypha; growling.

“So...you all agree with Sypha...”

“Well, of course they do!” Sypha proclaimed, “ And for some reason— they care about you and your safety—and don’t want you to die, so quit trying to argue with me and just accept that we aren’t leaving until tomorrow night! Now, turn around, close your eyes and count to one-hundred.”

Caught off gaurd by the last sentence, Dracula sputtered a bit, brow raising.

“And why should I do that?”

Smiling, Sypha then turned and began to run towards the circle of woods—the heiress yelling out her response as she glanced over her shoulder; that playful light aglow in her blue eyes.

“Because you are the seeker this time, of course! Everybody hide, quick— before he starts counting!”

At this, everybody except Dracula and Issac sprung into action as the cubs scattered across the meadow, Hector chasing after Sypha with shout.

“Wait—! Wait—! Sypha—! What are the rules?”

Panting, Sypha stopped at the edge of the meadow—cheeks flushed a beautiful pink.

“No hiding in the meadow or the field of the pack—and no hiding outside the bounds of the forest! And no pushing or shoving or kicking—“

Sorin raised his hand above the grass—stopping to ask a question.

“What about biting?”

Sypha glanced to him, hands at her hips.

“No biting either! Or any kind of  violence! The game ends when the seeker finds everyone—if he can’t find everyone, the game ends at dawn! Now everyone go and find a hiding spot! Quickly!”

Urged by Sypha’s words, the cubs and Hector followed her rules and ran into the trees to find a hiding spot in the forest—Issac soon joining in the game with a slight smirk and a shake of his head, the forgemaster finally caving and joining in the childish game; Dracula soon left all alone in the meadow.

Knowing he had been defeated, Dracula sighed deeply with a huff and closed his eyes—turning around to begin counting as he muttered out the numbers angrily, wondering when his forgemasters began to trust Sypha over him.

Chapter Text

Trees becoming blurs of brown and black as she ran, Sypha slipped between the branches of tall oaks and pines as she sprinted aimlessly into the forest—not fully sure where it began and where it had ended; her body trembling with andrenaline.

I did it...! I did it! I fooled him! I fooled all of them! I have an actual chance of escaping—!

Ducking under branches and trudging through thickened brush, Sypha soon stopped in her stride to catch her breath, the speaker magician leaning against a tree as she listened to the thrum of her heartbeat mix with the songs of the insects of the night; her skin shimmering with a sheen of sweat as she stared into the deepness of the woods— a smile on her face at how far she had traveled within only a few minutes.

He’ll never find me...they’ll never find me here...Now, all I need to do is found my way out of this forest...

Shuddering from the cold air she inhaled, Sypha moved away from the tree and continued onward through the forest; determination her compass as she walked for an hour so into a new part of the forest—unearthly, large trees reaching their mighty branches up to the black sky as a thick layer of green covered their bark.

Sypha paused to touch the pillowy vegetation—curious as some of it stuck to the tips of her fingers.

It’s moss...

Rubbing the flecks of green between her fingers, Sypha gasped aloud at the rustling of some brush behind her as she whipped around to witness a growling Floriana and Sorin tumble out into the open in an tangled mess of arms and legs; the werewolf cubs wrestling fiercely as they yipped and snarled at each other with a childish rage.

For a moment, Sypha just watched the two in a frozen shock, mouth hanging agape.

What!? Why are they—!? How did they get—!?

Unable to finish the thought in her mind, Sypha let out a short huff and charged forward to seperate the two—Sypha wrapping a hand around each of their little arms as she yanked them apart; Sorin still clawing out at a growling Floriana.

“Both of you— Quit—Just— STOP!”

Yet when Sypha had finally stopped the two from trying to kill each other—Sorin and Floriana both turned to her and began to shout and scream a cluster of words and unfinished sentences as they pointed at one another—Sypha unable to figure out what they were saying.

Overwhelmed by this, Sypha repeated herself—her voice echoing through the forest as a powerful commandment, fire escaping her fingertips in hot balls of flame in her anger.

“SILENCE!”

Frightened by the raise in her voice, Floriana and Sorin stopped immediately with little gasps as the light of the fire reflected in their pupil-less eyes—Floriana hiding behind her brother.

When Sypha had finally noticed their fear, her angry expression fell and was replaced instead with shame—the speaker magician stuttering a bit.

“Oh...Oh God...I’m... I’m sorry I did not mean to...”

She sighed, shoulders dropping then.

“To scare you so...”

Oh God, I’m turning into him...I’ve been around him for so long, I’m turning into Dracula...!

“I-It’s okay...” Sorin began quietly, “You didn’t scare us that bad...”

Sypha shook her head, sighing.

“What are you two doing so deep in the woods, anyways? Trying to find a place to hide—?”

Sorin shook his head, glancing down to his baby sister.

“Um...No, actually.”

Peeking around her brother to Sypha, Floriana looked up at her with big, round hazel eyes— fear still resonating within them.

“W-We were trying to lead Mr.Alucard to where the special moss grows...”

At this, Sypha widened her eyes—her heartbeat quickening as that adrenaline rushed through her once more— a fourth familiar, and smooth voice joining the forest.

“Yes, and you two have done wonderfully in leading me.”

Moving her eyes away from the cubs, Sypha stared at the blonde-haired, beautiful dhamphir in front of her—Alucard smiling sadly at her.

“Hello, Sypha.”