Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dracula’s wrath had many influences on Wallachia that weren’t directly related to his hordes of Hell. One of the worst, Trevor had to admit to himself, was the rain. It no longer rained water- no, for months, whenever it rained, it would rain blood- ever since the fall of Tragovište. It was hot, and thick and red and it poisoned the ground as well as spread the stench of iron in the air for days after. It drove beasts mad and sickened the crops, as well as Trevor himself. He never was one to be nit picky about the state of his tired person, but hot blood cooling on his back was hardly a comfortable feeling.
It made him glad to have a covered wagon, thank you Sypha, but he did need to leave it eventually. The rain has been falling steadily for the entire night and it kept going into the dawn, and they all needed sustenance, even if all he managed to catch in the bloody downpour was a couple of overgrown rats. Sypha did her best to hide her disgust at the creatures, not that she did a great job at it, but Alucard all but sneered.
„Throw that away, Belmont“ he snapped almost immediately, glaring at the dead rats with something akin to hatred „They must be ridden with disease. It will do humanity no good if we all die from poisoning before we even lose sight of Grešit“ he decided, titling his head backwards and fixing his tresses out of his golden eyes. It made Trevor sneer in return. Of course the bastard still appeared godly, even with the literal apocalypse going on around them. Suddenly irrationally angry, he threw the rats at the man’s feet before coming into the wagon, closing a fist around what hair of his he could grab, to try and drain it of some blood.
„You only need burn it, dhampire. Burn it nice and well, to a good hard crisp, and you shan’t get any illness. It is no different than rabbit“ he spat, flopping down across the two blondies that appeared to have cuddled for warmth. Belmont was surprised to find that the dhampire was not as cold as death- he wasn’t as warm as a usual human, but none would suspect him unnatural due to his temperature.

„Never the less. I am getting us something else“ Alucard decided. He stood up to make good on his claim, obviously not keen to settle for blood drenched rodents. Sypha couldn’t blame him much. The ugly things were as long as her forearm, without the naked, slippery tails, and their razor sharp teeth were revealed in an eternal sneer of death. With their ratty fur soaked in blood and each with a hole in one eye, they looked not much different than the vile demons that plagued the country. She also understood without saying that Alucard grew up in greater finery than both her and Trevor. He was, even if he would loathe to admit it, sheltered to the sorrows of a poor man; no starving peasants would turn his nose on those fanged beasties- repulsing and ugly as they were, they still had more meat than even a hare. But she had to intervene.
„Alucard, no“ she said, her accented voice heard for the first time in that day. „You can’t wander off in the rain now just to try and find something...“ she struggled to find the right term- she didn’t want to insult Belmont’s efforts to keep them fed „More appealing“ she finally conceeded „It is a waste of time and effort. I travel these lands; they are barren. We are lucky Belmont was skilled enough to gather us even this“ she explained, tugging on the dhamipire’s sleeve lightly to signal for him to sit down. When he did, all three of them knew it wasn’t for her physical strength, but his value of her reason.
„As you will“ he muttered, for the first time regretting that he required food as well as blood. Never before was he in a situation where food was so hard to come by- never was he in a situation where he simply had to grit his teeth and eat a gutter rat- and not even a whole rat; the share of the meat would be acceptable for a meal, but it would also be their only meal for the day. He /will/ get hungry, more so since the last blood he had was before he left the tombs underneath Grešit.

Trevor smirked at his displeasure, grabbing one rat by the tail to start skinning it.
„What is it, princess? Not refined enough for you?“ he snickered, tossing a bit of the filthy fur Alucard’s way to tease him. Judging by his hiss, he didn’t take to it kindly, but sadly, neither did Sypha.
„Enough, Belmont!“ she snapped „No one is glad to be eating those things. Just...“ she breathed in slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose as if nursing a headache „Just be quiet“ she sighed, taking none of his knives to skin the other rat. Her upper lip was stiff with disgust, but she made no more complaints. The Speaker wasn’t glad to have to shut down Trevor like that, but Alucard truly was uncomfortable. She didn’t see reason in mocking him for it- perceptive as she was, she could tell that he felt a bit inadequate next to them- he was a brilliant man, and a deadly warrior, but he wasn’t as hardened to simple hardships of normal people. She was. And- she looked up- judging with how much experience Trevor skinned the ugly animal, he was used to it even more so than she. It made him bitter, she assumed, but if the Hunter and the Soldier started fighting truly instead of only bickering, it would be a catastrophe. She sighed as she tried to ignore the stink from the dead creature; she’d have to play a peace keeper often, that was as plain as day.
„Trevor“ she called for his attention after a few minutes „Give the rat to Alucard. You need to get out of those clothes. I’ll dry them for you once you wring them out“

Needless to say, the meal was unsatisfactory. The meat, already tough, felt like smoked leather after being burned per Belmonts instructions, and it was all too hard to ignore where it came from. Sypha ate slowly, but in a consistent pace, simply working through it as if it was a chore that just had to be done. Alucard was even slower, trying to swallow tiny parts of his share without chewing, so he’d be spared the taste. Trevor, on the other hand, was wolfing down his part, both used to particularly bad food and starved enough to savor a dead rat. He did stop when he had about a fist more of meat left, looking up to Sypha as if embarrassed. „Do you want more?“ he offered clumsily, although she was still going through her part. „You’re tiny. You need more food than me“ before Alucard could object and say that was fundamentally wrong, Sypha replied.
„No. Thank you“ her reply might have been short, but her tone was gentler. She was touched by his offer, to say at least. He was a rude man, crass and half feral, but he still had thought that she might be hungry still. If that wasn’t enough, his eyes then switched to Alucard, and he offered the same in a grunt rather than words.
„No... this is enough“ Alucard shook his head, and Trevor’s eyes hardened as he bit into the rest of his share, but Sypha had a nagging feeling it wasn’t out of pettiness. Could it be worry?

Trevor wasn’t worried for Alucard. Concerned, maybe. Or perhaps the best word to describe the feeling would be pity; he must have been through the same at some point. Not quite the same, even; he may have at one point lost a home that provided luxuries such as baths and feather beds and good food, but he was trained since he could barely walk in all things connected to monster hunting; fending for oneself in wilderness and without money or spare food was one of the first thing he learned. While on long hunts, many would die not from the claw or fang or poison, but hunger, before they even reached whatever while creature they sought. No Belmont is fit for such a death, his father used to say with a content, proud smile. Trevor wondered what his father would say if he saw what his youngest son became; a drunk that was set to die from cold or drowned in his vomit in one ditch or the other. Was that a suitable death for a Belmont? Granted, it now appeared he’d die differently, what with the hunt he was dragged off to. By a Speaker, none the less, and the son of all things evil. He scowled as he finished his meal, wishing he had ale or beer or wine to muffle the thoughts that plagued his mind. Revisiting ghosts of the past was hardly his favorite hobby. Would his ancestors sneer at him for not killing Alucard on sight? For trying and failing, that is. Well, fuck them. They were dead and he was alive, even if not for long. The company may be questionable, but at least he was on a road for a proper Belmont’s death: taking down motherfucking Dracula.

Chapter Text

They couldn’t move for as long as the rain fell, which meant that they only managed to cover a small amount of miles before they had to stop again, this time hindered not by blood pouring down from the sky, but plain old darkness. One or two people sneaking through the nightly woods may have been acceptable, but three, on a wagon, with a mule? They would be all too easy to hear and spot by the hell horde. And while none of them had particular fear from the vile creatures, they all knew better than to tempt the fate.
“At this rate we will get nowhere” Alucard muttered to himself, which went unheard by his human companions. At first he thought he was being ignored, but then he realized that not even Trevor’s trained ears could pick up on a sentence that was little more than tinted breath. Perhaps it was just as well- none of them needed to wallow in grim thoughts. The mood of the trio was already sour; even the hopeful Speaker’s eyes have dulled in the face of red drenching the covers of their wagon and their mule’s distressed howling before they got it somewhere semi dry.

Sypha ended up taking the first watch, and it was unspoken between her and Alucard that the dhampir takes the second. No one asked Belmont on his opinion of it, and even if they wanted, they’d be too late: the man was out of it almost as soon as they found the proper place to rest for the night. It was to be expected. He hadn’t slept for a few days by then, and then he kept running through the downpour to try and fetch them breakfast. After days of unrest and demon battle (as well as the unnecessary fight with the dhampir) it was only normal that the grumpy man was exhausted. Both he and Alucard slept inside the wagon, naturally, while she sat on the driver’s seat, preferring the hard wood over the ground that was still moist with all the blood it soaked up. To give herself something to do, while still keeping her senses present, she set to filling their canisters with water, melting ice into them. Such a simple task took no effort for the well practiced magician, so she had no trouble hearing one of the men rise from the inside of the wagon and move to accompany her.
“You should get your sleep” she told Alucard, keeping her voice down as not to rouse the sleeping hunter.
“I’ve slept for a year. I can spare a few hours” his voice got deeper when he spoke in low tones, a warm rumble coming from his belly rather than his throat. It was a lovely voice, Sypha decided, one she wouldn’t mind hearing more of. Of course, given the pace of their journey so far, she’d be hearing it for a long while.
“Wait until we are on a road for a few days. You won’t be pulling that excuse for much longer” she teased him gently, glancing up at the tall man. Her jab was rewarded by a soft huff mirroring a laugh, and a gentle curl of his lips.
“I suppose not” he agreed, looking down at his hands. They were perfect, really, the skin of his palms hardened enough not to blister from devoted use of his sword, but otherwise, they were soft and pale, the milky skin lacking any blemishes or cuts or scars. Yet, it was only thanks to the vampire part of him, one that could hardly keep any scars, not counting ones given by the closest thing to Devil on Earth. Truly, that scar, mark of defeat, was the only testament to any battle he had on his body. His training did not stick on his skin, but that didn’t mean he had received none. His father trained him well, and harshly too. He always thought his father could have held back at least a little, with the training, while effective, often being painful.
Only when Dracula nearly killed him, did he realize how much he was holding back while training him for all those years. And what was worse- Alucard did not run away from the battle. By all means, he stumbled and crawled. His father let him- that one strike was nothing but him forgetting his own strength while lashing out, mad with grief. It wasn’t a murder attempt, not truly. Thinking back on it made him remember the fear that settled in his bones whenever he thought of the upcoming battle, which was often. But God, how grateful he was that he didn’t have to face his father alone. His father, who sang him to sleep as often as his mom did. His father, who Alucard was told cried merry tears when his first word was ‘papa’ and who spent countless afternoons teaching him how to move around in his wolf form, . His father, who called him ‘Adrian’ and ‘son’ and prepared him tea when he was sick. Dracula, who both held him like he was the most fragile porcelain and who nearly ripped his torso in two in one precise lash of wrath.

“Alucard” Sypha’s voice pulled him from the well of memories, and he realized that he didn’t even notice she covered his trembling hands with her warm palms. “You’re afraid. It’s alright” she seemed both surprised and understanding, and the gentle, almost pitying expression on her face made breath catch in his throat.
“I’m not. I’m-“ he breathed in deeply, his hands curling into fists underneath her palms. “I’m worried” he admitted finally, looking her in the eye “Every fighting move that I know, every tactic and every strike… everything that makes me good at killing I tried and failed at countless times in front of him before I got them right. Before he /taught/ me right. I know not how I’ll manage taking him down” he whispered, horrified to realize that his fright was audible in his voice.
“I’m sorry” he drew his hands from hers, running his palm down his face “You don’t need to hear this. It must be done, my fretting will just upset you”
“Don’t apologize. Doubts are normal” she said, now placing her hand on his shoulders. She was quite fond of physical contact, it seemed, but then, she was a Speaker. They probably were much more free in displays of affection than the good Christians of Wallachia. “And don’t be ashamed” she continued “I want you to be able to talk to me about this. It is of no use to just keep it inside. Not healthy, even” she added, looking away for a moment.
“But I must ask… you were much more confident back in Grešit. What happened?” she wanted to know. Perhaps the rain unsettled him more than he let on? He was half vampire, after all, and rains only started after he was already slumbering. It was his first time seeing blood pour down from the skies- Sypha remembered how terrified she was the first time it happened.
He was silent for a few moments, contemplating his answer before he finally replied.

“I think I was feeling more courageous upon just meeting the Hunter and the Scholar. But also…” he looked over his shoulder into the wagon, where Belmont was sleeping. “I also felt I needed to portray confidence for his sake. For the sake of him coming along, that is. He didn’t seem to enthusiastic about the prophesy, let alone following me. And I felt that I had to assume the leadership role for this all to work” he admitted, ashamed “I am not doing as good of a job at it as I hoped”.
“That’s fine. I never liked fearless leaders. They reek of falsehood and it feels inappropriate to get close to them” Sypha mused, leaning against his shoulder. A grin was audible in her voice as she got comfortable. “But you needn’t have wasted effort. Belmont wouldn’t have backed away. And if he did, I would’ve just talked at him until he agreed” she chuckled, huffing to move a stray lock of hair from her eyes. Alucard watched the display with a smile wider than he had before, the touchy Speaker growing on him with her honestly. It took a special type of courage to be so open with one’s thoughts and feelings. Alucard thought how he himself couldn’t manage such a thing with any other stranger but her; her calming yet bright aura brought that sort of courage to him easily. For that he was thankful.

Chapter Text

Alucard had to admit he was underwhelmed with the Hunter. So much that he even found himself worried he might have mistaken a common drunkard for his fated companion, biting into his bottom lip nervously with Sypha asleep and curled up against his side as he kept watch. He sniffed at the air, and there it was as he knew it would be: stench. Not from the acid blood that had replaced the rain, not from any night creatures or animal corpeses they might have left in their wake. No, it was just Belmont. How the Speaker tolerated it was a miracle, truly, but what puzzled Alucard even more was that the man himself seemed utterly uncaring for the state of his person. How could he not be bothered? He should be noticing it more than anyone! It wasn’t plain sweat. Sypha was sweaty, as was he. They did not smell their best after a day of fighting and and traveling. But they did not reek; they smelled human. Come a decent body of water and they shall wash it off- it was only natural.
The Belmont... his sweat was stale as if he hadn’t bothered to even run a damp rag over himself in months. He also carried sour blood on himself, on his skin, in his coat, the fur having soaked it up too deeply to ever be washed out properly. A putrid smell of vomit stuck onto his shirt, and there was even a whiff of feces around him- although, he did tell them he had to climb a shitpipe to get into Grešit, so Alucard could at last rest assured the man did not have a habit of soiling himself. He carefully moved Sypha, making a pillow out of his coat and letting her rest her head on it before he ventured into the wagon.

„Belmont“ he whispered, nudging the hunter’s side with his foot. He didn’t want to touch the man; his skin had a layer of grime over it, and his shirt was stiff with filth. But the hunter did not budge, which only served to irritate the dhampir further. That was to be their hunter? The smelly drunktard that was such a deep sleeper that he didn’t react even when touched? How the man managed to survive on his own for so long was being the half vampire, who was by nature demanding. He wanted to be impressed, having spent his childhood only around exquisite. Sypha had no problems meeting his standards. She was delightfully kind, frighteningly dangerous, and beautiful in ways he could describe for pages and pages if only he had ink on him. She was his Scholar, the mortal mage who could stand against the being eternal and remain standing while her enemies crumbled into dust around her. The Belmont... the Belmont was good with a whip, and once Alucard took that away, he wasn’t any better than a common city guard, the vampire decided perhaps a bit too harshly. But his expectations were not built up by the prophesy only. How could he not be disappointed by Trevor, when Belmonts have even been respected in his father’s court?

Even at the tender age of eight, Alucard was perceptive. He knew his father thought little of Godbrand, the redheaded vampire who seemed to have as many opinions as there were spider webs in the castle, and Heavens forbid any of those opinions remains unheard. Since he was sporadically brought to the meetings since before he could walk properly, Alucard knew that if Godbrand wasn’t assured everyone understood what he wanted to say, he wouldn’t mind repeating once, twice, five times. The large Viking seemed to be viewed as a joke by the entire court, but... he was one of the highest ranking generals. Alucard /knew/ weak people didn’t survive long in positions of power in the night world, and he also understood you needed more than sheer physical might to lead undead soldiers and command subjects that drank blood. Godbrand must have had some cleverness underneath that blood red hair of his, and that knowledge, combined by some odd combination of awe and mild fear, made young Alucard listen carefully whenever Godbrand was speaking. And now he was speaking of how he deemed a possible hunt for the last surviving Belmont a waste of time.
„It is a child. It won’t survive for long with the Church at its back! And even if it does, it won’t be a true Belmont. It barely has twelve winters underneath its belt! Its training has been cut short“ the Viking explained, his arms spread as he turned to face the other generals.
„And you of all people place so much value on training? The boy has rotten blood of hunters! It should be cut down, root and stem-“
„Oh, do it, you ol’ sack o’ shit! I rest my case. Yes training is important! Belmonts are not magical. They are humans who have devoted their lives to murdering us. They have perfect the arts of war and killing to a degree that you might want to reach someday, you pompous fuck. That is the whole reason why we even know their names! /They/ were warriors. /They/ should have been hunted and taken care of decades prior, but now the Church did it for us. And now you play the brave man by hunting down a cub? Go ahead. Do it. But I won’t waste my time on it“
„I wonder, Godbrand“ Carmilla’s voice filled the room like bitter honey „If they ever talked so fondly about you at the Belmont estate“. The words were a taunt, obviously said to mock, but Godbrand was oddly calm in the face of it. With seriousness he never displayed before, he crossed his arms and shook his head.
„No, Carmilla“ he said simply „Because no Belmont that sees me lives to tell of it“.
He spoke so casually of killing them, but Alucard could clearly hear the tone of respect. Godbrand, who viewed humans as livestock more honestly than any other vampire, did not celebrate Belmont ruination like one did when poisoning a nest of rats; The Viking viewed it as a fall of a dynasty. An enemy dynasty for which he harbored no love, but dynasty none the less.

’Your family was respected by my court’ he thought to himself bitterly as he glared at the still sleeping man ’How could you reduce it to yourself as you are?’. Another shove with the tip of his boot finally awakened the man, a hand moving to rub the sleep from his eyes.
„It’s your turn to keep watch“ Alucard told him coldly, which might have been unfair considering that the man had no way of knowing what got Alucard so upset with him „Try not to wake Sypha. She’s sleeping outside“ he added, seating himself on the floor of the cart. Hopefully Belmont’s stench won’t stick around with the man gone outside.
„I don’t care“ came the gruff reply, still heavy with sleep. As he glared at the retreating man’s back, he followed his hand moving to the back of his head, scratching at his hair. Alucard’s jaw slackened slightly when he noticed it. Underneath the outer locks, Belmonts hair was tangled and matted solid, like seriously unkempt fur; no wonder he smelled that odd odor to him that h couldn’t pinpoint- he never saw such a thing in his life! As he laid down to try and sleep, he could only pray to whatever deity there might be out there that the man did not have lice.

Chapter Text

The hunter was hunched over on the bench, his eyes more focused on the sleeping Speaker next to him than their surroundings. It wasn’t out of idiocy, however. His eyes were weak in the thick darkness around them. By the time he is able to see the monsters, he would have already heard them at least a minute before. Thus, he could allow himself to admire the resting mage. Beautiful things were so rare, after all, and he had seen enough horrors to last a life time. He will see double the amount in the future for certain. What harm was there in looking? Well, according to the guilty tugging in his gut, there was some, even if he couldn’t put a name to it. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that someone like him shouldn’t even be thinking about such a woman. He by all means should admire her, and he did. As annoying she could be in the brief time he knew her, she also displayed power that even the great mages of old would be proud of. His bed time stories were full of people like her; the magicians with the strength to manipulate the world to their liking, their intent. And wasn’t she doing just that? World was made of earth, fire, water and air. She manipulated all four, and frighteningly well too. He met a few mages during his lonesome, drunken travels, but they were wild, their magic controlling them more than they controlled it. Sypha... magic came to her as easily as breathing. She also was braver than he, he knew. They’ve surged into danger together, yes, but unlike him, she wanted to live. There was no air of decay around her, and not even the stupidest person in the world could call her spirits sunken, or her mind apathetic. And that was what made her more courageous than he, if such a term could even be used for him anymore. She had a lust for life, and in spite of it kept challenging death. He had it easy. How hard was it to leap over the abyss if you did not care if you fell? Gently, he put his palm on her shoulder, caressing the curve softly before his fingers moved to pull her robes further up, to cover the back of her neck snugly. A small frown appeared on her sleeping face, and she sniffed as if wanting to sneeze, tucking her face into Alucard’s coat to try and escape the bad smell that attacked her senses.

He drew his hand back as if scorched, mortified by his own boldness. How dare he presume to touch her? Admiration was one thing, something that was basically owed to the bright creature next to him, but physical attraction... it was almost an insult. He had no business touching her while such thoughts plagued his mind. Such silly notions would never occur to him if he had a drink on him. Drunk, he was more sensible. His only focus would be getting the next gulp and then vomiting. He wouldn’t be thinking of Sypha’s ruddy cheeks, and surely not of how well she went along with Alucard- and Alucard with her. The damned dhampir annoyed him more than the perfect woman. Possibly because an attraction to Sypha, while useless and dumb, was not bloody sodomy. Why did he have to go on and make true on all accusations the Church threw his way? Some of the sins were ridiculous, certainly not worth his death (or that of his family) but there still was a basic notion of good and evil, right and wrong. It had nothing to do with Church, and everything with basic humanity. And he... he was doing a pretty awful job at fitting in with the flimsiest rules of society. Hell, he didn’t even have the energy to bathe! Both Alucard and Sypha made mentions of his stench at some point or another during the short while they’ve been together, but to see Sypha shy away from him even her sleep... well, it hurt. And he had no one but himself to blame.

At least Alucard wasn’t there to witness it- it would just lower dhampir’s opinion of him even further, if that was possible.
Hell. Of course it was possible. God, how Alucard would hate him if he knew Trevor noticed his appearance. That he looked at him like one should only look at a woman. That his mind has drifted back to their fight in the tomb, and that he was reliving Alucard leaning over him with a carnal feeling in his gut that a man may only have for scarcely clad tavern wenches. He needed a drink. He was almost thankful when an unmistakable growl was heard and he had to shout for his companions to awake.
Sypha cast the first flame before her eyes fully opened. It flew into the darkness, and the drowsy eyed Speaker did not miss. It made Trevor anxious. Just how many monsters were there if a sleepy, blind shot immediately hit one? As he was contemplating that, his hand uncoiling the whip from his belt, a huge white wolf flew from the wagon and into the small legion of demons that was approaching quicker and quicker. Trevor only allowed himself a second of panic before he realized: Alucard. Only Alucard would shift into such a perfect creature. Vain fucker. And then there was no more time for pondering, as one of the larger demons nearly decapitated the Speaker. She hardly needed him to rescue her, but both she and Alucard needed him alert and fighting. He let them down on everything else- he couldn’t prove to be useless in battle as well. There was fire in his veins that he didn’t remember having. It was almost childlike, although he wouldn’t like to see a child as blood thirsty as he proved to be in that dark hour before down. Perhaps that is why he barely felt the claws drag against his side, ripping clothes and flesh alike, and why he didn’t even notice the sun until the creatures retreated before its offensive rays. It must have been Sypha’s flames that blinded him to its light; they burned brighter than the weak, tired sun. Still, one should be grateful for the day- it was the only thing that stopped more demons from coming. For awhile it appeared as if by murdering one they’d invite four more. As Trevor sunk on his knees, gasping for breath, he realized that the forest they were in was nothing but a nest. A huge nest full of flesh hungry demons that now knew there was prey close by. Come nightfall, they’d hunt them again. And they wouldn’t be able to fight the entire night.
„We need to get the fuck outta here“ he rasped, finally realizing that the entire left side of his torso was wet with something warm and trickling still. Before he could even move to try and touch the torn flesh, Alucard was by his side, man handling him so he’d be upright on his knees as the dhampir pulled up his shirt to reveal the deep gashes.
„Sypha!“ was that Alucard yelling? He couldn’t quite hear it well, it was like someone was yelling from a well. Whatever. He couldn’t worry about silly things like that. He was so tired...
...
Soaring pain shook him from the slumber he didn’t realize he was falling into.
„Eyes on me Belmont!“ Alucard was snarling in his face, one of his hands holding his wrists together in a vice like grasp. He was lying down on the ground, Alucard effectively keeping him pinned. Dhampir’s other hand was pressing down on his hip, and before he could demand he be set free, more muttering was heard and then... and then there was pain. He must have screamed hard enough to awaken his family from their unmarked graves. He trashed like a madman, desperate to escape the aftermath of the agony, but he still was pinned by something way stronger than he was. Someone was running their fingers down his face, through what bit of his hair they could manage, and there was wetness on his face and crying. Sypha?
„Don’t cry, Sypha, don’t cry, you’re fine...“ he tried to reassure her, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he fainted underneath Alucard’s hold.

„Sypha. Sypha, darling, look at me“ Alucard spoke urgently, but in a gentle tone as he took the Speaker’s chin between his fingers, having her teary eyes meet his. „You did well. I know you didn’t want to hurt him, but trust me, it is much better to have the wound burned than infected. But we must run- the horde clearly has a lair here, come nightfall, they will attack again“ she nodded, understanding that much. It was what Trevor was probably trying to say before the blood loss got to him.
„But we won’t get out in time“ she said through a hiccup, her hand on Trevor’s shoulder „Even if we- even without the wagon and the mule, we cannot run the entire way... and he cannot run at all“ she said, looking down at the hunter. She was right. Even if they waked him up, he didn’t look like he’d manage to stand, let alone run.
„Oh, we will manage. Tell me, Sypha, did you ever ride a wolf?“

Chapter Text

As a Speaker, Sypha has told and heard countless stories. Eloquent and educated, she had listened to numerous feats of better men. But on Alucard back, hunched over Trevor’s unconscious body, she was the one /living/ the tale. Her thighs ached from the hours of clutching against Alucard’s back, but her lungs seemed to have expanded through the adrenaline rushing through her veins. It didn’t matter that the wind blowing in her face tasted like blood and death, nor that the hero she and the dhampir were saving still smelled worse than an abandoned pigsty. With her hands buried in Alucards long, thick fur, and her own weight the only thing preventing the hunter from falling over, she never felt more alive. The sensation was much alike intoxication, but instead of alcohol or drugs, it was caused by pure adventure. She loved it, and wanted more, risk of death be damned. The grin she didn’t realize she was wearing only faded in twilight, just as they were leaving the lasts of the trees behind them. Alucard kept running, meaning to put as much distance between them at the cursed woods as possible. They only came to a stop at the sight of a ruined village in front of them.

Alucard started moving again after sniffing at the air for a few long moments, having checked for danger... for any sign of life too. He found neither, and the slow trot through the village was a somber affair, the bodies littering the streets rotting, undisturbed crows picking on fingers, eyes, tongues. They scavenged what the night horde left behind, and the feast was generous.
„Here?“ Sypha whispered, quietly despite the surprise. It felt improper to raise ones voice when surrounded by so many unburied dead. She was looking up at the small, yet tall church, but her surprise did not come from Alucard not minding the holy ground. No, it originated from the sight of barricaded door- better said, the barricade alone. The door was ripped off, and in its place were logs and boards, nailed from the inside. She slid off Alucard’s back, and he laid down for her to pull off Trevor with as little bumping as possible. It was also a matter of ease; Trevor was by no means a light man. How he attained, and maintained, all that muscle was beyond Alucard’s understanding, given that by his scent he consumed more liquor than food.
„It smells the least of death. There is only a corpse or two inside, judging by the smell“ Alucard said once he shifted back into his human form. She saw him continue to lie on the ground, visibly exhausted, and sighed in sympathy. Their escape from the woods was not easy on her, but he was the one running faster than a doe, for the entire day, weight of two people on his back. She ran her fingers through his hair; his, unlike Belmont’s, lacked any knots or... /messes/. Standing up, she went to the barricade on the Church entrance, and burned it down with a controlled flame, which only turned to dust what she willed it to.

The corpses in the Church were those of priests. They didn’t carry demon inflicted wounds, however. No, they appeared to have killed each other, one’s throat slit cleanly while the other apparently bled out slowly through the messily inflicted knife wounds in his abdomen. Sypha for a moment wondered what madness possessed them, but a large amount of dried meat upon the altar helped her put the puzzle pieces together. When Alucard pointed out the blisters and cuts on their fingers, it lessened the pity she started to feel.
„A priests door must never be closed“ she said bitterly as she watched Alucard move the corpses to a backroom, so they wouldn’t have to observe them the entire night „That is what I heard once, from a very wise man. And what do they do? Steal as much food as they can manage, and seal what ought be a sanctuary from the entire village. They let those people die“ her voice trembled with anger, like water threatening to boil over.
„The demons were able to penetrate the Cathedral in Grešit. They ran down the one in Tragovište, from what you’ve told me. People would have found no salvation here“ Alucard tried to pacify her, placing his gloved hand on her shoulder.
„That’s not the point! They believed this to be a safe place and deliberately denied it to everyone! And then, they kill each other over food they had enough off even before the Horde arrived!“ the place would have been broken into had the devils sensed life within it, so it was easy to guess the mutual killing happened before the attack. It didn’t matter that even if the commoners were allowed entrance they would have died regardless- rage consumed her at the sheer act of selfishness. Such cruelty and greed wasn’t in her nature, and it shocked her more than the vile deeds of demons, even more than the actions of the man that set them lose. Beast were Hellborn, never knowing anything but wickedness, evil resting in their very bones. Dracula was an immortal mad with grief, seeking vengeance through hate and blood. These men... they were just selfish. So very human, yet so evil in a mundane, rat like way. Their crimes may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but it caused in her more disgust than the Horde did.

Adrian wrapped his arms around her waist, his chest strong against her back. His warmth was something to comfort her, and his strength something to lean on. But not then- not when he had spent a day running to save their lives. She shifted in his arms, turning to face him, her own arms sneaking around his torso.
„You saved us“ she whispered „We wouldn’t have managed if you weren’t there. Thank you... Adrian“ his breath hitched at the use of his name, eyes softening as he gazed down upon her. She sensed his hand trembling on her back, and she repeated the name.
„Adrian“ she said gently, her hand resting on the soft skin of his cheek. „Adrian. Adrian“ she repeated, much like a prayer. What was she praying for? His warmth, strength? His ability in battle, his experience with the thing they were rushing to ruin?
No. It was his arms around her waist. The tickle of his hair on her shoulder when he moved to kiss her forehead. The way the sound of his breathing drowned out her disappointment with the humanity they were trying to save. Ease of mind; fullness of heart.
„You can kiss my lips, too“ she whispered.
And so he did.

When they parted, both the human and the dhampir were out of breath. Lips have touched lips, tongues have slid together, and hands went where they pleased. But they couldn’t go further; their company may be unconscious, but that in itself wasn’t too good of a news. Belmont needed rest, but they had to make sure his prolonged unconsciousness was caused by exhaustion and previous blood loss, not head injury. In a haste, they fixed their clothing, Sypha straightening out her robes while Alucard only had to roll his shirt down and get his desire under control; Speaker’s agile fingers pressing over his spine and the muscles of his back was all too nice of a feeling. It would be embarrassing to say he found mock massages during kissing erotic, but his pants indeed were tight for moments longer, before he finally got his bearings under control. Once he was decent again, he joined Sypha, kneeling by the Belmont’s side opposite of her.
His breathing was regular, and heart beat strong, if a little slower for his liking. The man needed warmth, and as much as Alucard hated his stench, shared body heat would help all three of them. But before they went to sleep, he had to make sure the man wouldn’t die while in slumber. Carefully, he pulled the man into sitting, his arm supporting his back while Sypha’s small hand held the back of his head gently.
„Belmont. Wake up“ he said, his tone deep and low, still echoing in the empty church. The hunter’s eyes fluttered open only to close again. At that, Alucard placed his hand on the man’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his sharp cheekbone. He felt a stubble of a beard underneath his palm, and realized, as the Hunter’s eyes opened with more clarity, that the man actually wasn’t off putting in looks at all- not in the shape of his face, that is. He needed a bath, and a shave, and a haircut, and to lay off the booze... but underneath the grime and dirt, he was actually a handsome man. Just what has he been doing to himself to make himself so wrecked that even his refined dhampir’s eyes have been blinded to the more than just pleasant line of his face?

„Where are we? We must go“ Belmont’s rough voice interrupted his line of thinking, and he had to put his other hand on the man’s shoulder to prevent him from trying to stand up.
„Easy there, smelly. We’re out of the woods. Just checking if you’re alive. Go back to sleep“ he said, a shallowest hint of companionship in his voice as he slowly rested the man to lay on the ground again.
„I’ll keep guard“ the brunnet said, glancing between him and Sypha with an odd expression on his face, as if he wasn’t sure if they truly were there.
„Absolutely not“ Alucard replied sternly, fixing the man’s cape around him „Sleep“ he commanded, and it was an order too tempting for the Belmont to disobey.
„I’ll keep the watch tonight“ Sypha said then, watching the hunter with much fondness in her eye; Alucard was surprised with himself to realize he felt no jealousy at that. At odds with himself, he tried to imagine her looking the same way at one of his fairy friends, and he immediately found himself itching to rip Henris’ head off. Poor Henris. /Lucky/ Belmont. He scratched at his head. Perhaps he just didn’t feel intimidated by the hunter? But, it was late, and those were long thoughts.
„Don’t“ he said sweetly, leaning a bit over the sleeping drunk to press a short kiss to her lips. „I will place protection wards around the Church. They’ll notify me if danger approaches. We all need rest tonight“ he told her. Half an hour later, they were cuddled together, Sypha’s back resting against Belmont’s healthy side- but her legs were tangled with Alucard’s, and she was in his arms.

Chapter Text

Humming of the wards woke him up somewhere well past noon. He shot up to sit, leaning over Sypha as he looked up to find the danger. But when he extended his arm to try and offer Belmont some protection as well, he found that the man was missing. Brief panic was quickly stifled by rational thinking; the Hunter must have awoken and left. But what was he looking for in the dead village? A tight knot made itself known in Alucard’s gut, and both it and common sense demanded that the human does not be left to his own devices. The village was dead, yes, and Horde shan’t attack in the middle of the day, but the world was a dangerous place even without the hellish spawn tormenting it. Rabid dogs, wolves and bears could easily find their way into the village now that it was silenced of both human noise and knife.
„Sypha“ he whispered, running his knuckles down her soft cheek gently. She stirred, nuzzling into his chest like a kitten.
„Wake up, darling“ he said softly through a smile „Belmont decided it was a good idea to go out on his own. We should follow“

They ended up finding him in a tavern, a bottle of wine in his hand as he sat on the counter, quite near the corpse that was lying on the ground. It was probably the inn keeper who stayed in his shop, hoping the walls would offer him protection. He was not of such luck, but much of his wares survived the onslaught. It served well for Trevor’s satisfaction, apparently, as his cheeks have already gathered color- but in Alucards opinion, it served horribly for his health. His health, which he and Sypha labored all day to save, alongside with all of their lives.
„Have you no shame?“ he snapped, stalking forward. „No respect for the dead, even?“ he gestured towards the fallen inn keeper, a snarl visible on his face. Sypha was quiet behind him, clearly unsure on how to deal with the situation. But she remained near, as if ready to remedy the situation should it escalate further- just the way she did back underneath Grešit, when she threatened to incinerate Alucard should he truly try and murder the Hunter.
„Oh, shut the fuck up, lover boy“ Belmont replied, his words slurred as he finished off the bottle. Alucard’s eyes widened as he watched the man reach for another. Just how fast did he drink? It didn’t take Sypha and him that long of a time to find the damned man!
„It doesn’t m-make sense we continue today anyways. It is too late in the d-d-“ he breathed in sharply through his nose, pulling the cork from the bottle with his teeth „It is too late in the day“ he continued after spitting the cork onto the ground, taking a generous swing from the dark bottle. A bit of the red liquid dribbled past his lips and onto his chin, trailing down his neck and into his shirt.
„So you decide to drink yourself into stupor? Belmont, it is not even evening yet!“ the dhampir argued, all but throwing his hands in the air. His eyes studied Belmont’s face, and then down his ribs. Just as he feared- the shirt was sticking to the burn wound with way too much vigor. It must have blistered.
„Stop. Drinking“ he commanded, moving closer „You still have a wound upon yourself. You still need to be able to fight! Stop dulling your senses and lets us leave here, now!“
Belmont coughed into his fist, closing his eyes when he took another gulp of wine. The man sure had a long swing. In the light, and with his wolf like sight, he could see that the hunter was already a third down the bottle, quickly working his way to the half.
„Isn’t it hypoc- odd for you to mention that? What’s wrong with a man having just- just a little thirst? You dull your senses with a pretty girl, I chose my bottle; it doesn’t moan as sweetly, but none the less-“ he was cut half way through, the bottle flung out of his hands. Alucard was in his face, seething.
„Don’t you dare speak of her like that. Of us“ he sneered. Just why was Belmont suddenly so vulgar? Both he and Sypha were in a state of dress. Just because they lay close... it gave the Hunter no right to make insinuations „It is too pure for you. And nothing alike your filthy addiction!“

Those words will hurt much more later. But while he recognized that there was ache in his chest right then and there, Trevor’s sluggish mind focused on his hand. There was no longer a bottle there, no wine, and instead he got the dhampir snarling in his face. The same man who was denying him his drink. Before he knew what he was doing, he moved to stand and without a pause punched Alucard straight in the jaw. Sypha’s yelp of protest he barely heard, he was /angry/.
„Don’t fucking- that’s my drink!“ he yelled, moving to hit the man again, loose on his footing. Alucard was prepared that time, however, and easily caught his fist mid air. If there was a power struggle between them when Trevor was sober, it all went out of the window when he wasn’t. He didn’t manage to keep track of the following events well enough to understand how it came to be, but he suddenly found himself pinned against the counter, Alucard holding his arms tightly to his back. The dhampir didn’t speak, too angry for words, but the air wasn’t silent for long.
„Let go off me!“ Trevor yelled, trying to squirm out of the firm hold to no avail „If I need a drink I’ll take a fucking drink! It’s none of your business!“ he shouted at the man behind him, trying to kick his legs under him. The only thing he managed was to lose footing himself, which led to Alucard supporting all of his weight on his arms. It was a painful arrangement, and his hiss made it known.

„Get your bloody footing right“ Alucard said lowly, his voice shimmering with barely contained rage. He was furious, and had to focus to lessen the force with which he was holding the other man- if he gripped any tighter, he might have broken his bones.
As he forced the drunk out of the tavern, he realized he had little to no idea what to do with him once he got him outside. His efforts to slip from his hold stopped in favor of him just trying not to trip, which shouldn’t have been too challenging for a demon hunter of his caliber. While Alucard had his doubts before, the fight in the woods more or less sunk them all- Belmont could fight, and he could fight like very few others. Against the horde he fought better than he did against Alucard back underneath Grešit. One would be wrong to say Belmont was holding back at the time- but he fought without heart or passion, conviction perhaps. That did lessen his blows, making him an easier target for the dhampir and causing very little respect in the blond. The fight in the woods changed that... until the Hunter decided it was appropriate to get intoxicated in the worst possible time.

„Let him sit on the grass“ Sypha suggested, her hands clasped tightly together. Speakers were adapt in helping people, but she never dealt with drunks- in the frustrated curl of Adrian’s brow she could tell that he too lacked any experience with people who’s sanity was fractured with fermented fruit. She hoped they could make do with common sense, but the moment Adrian let go of the Hunter, the latter kicked his legs underneath him, jumping to his feet with more precision than he was allowed in his current state. The sight frightened Sypha, as it proved Belmont was completely unpredictable. His drowsiness was coming and going, at one moment making him unable to stand while in other he was fighting like nobody’s business. They couldn’t talk to him either- he didn’t want it. All he wanted was to get away from them, for some demented reason, and was becoming more and more violent. It was an hour before twilight that alcohol was finally gone from his system, probably due to the physical activity. But when clarity finally filled his blue eyes, both Sypha’s and Adrian’s patience has worn thin, replaced by justified anger.

Chapter Text

He remained on the ground when Alucard finally deemed it safe to let go of him. The hours of wrestling have left him sweaty and restless, panting as he looked up at the darkening sky. Why couldn’t the damned bastard just let him finish his drink? Then both the argument and prolonged fighting would have been avoided.
„Well, this was fun“ he rasped, sitting up and then getting to his knees. The fact that he needed to gather strength to stand up was concerning, but he reasoned he just was roughed up by his antics with Alucard. The endeavor wasn’t favorable for his side at all, as he could feel the blisters have broken, his filthy shirt sticking to the harmed skin with blood and lymph. With each movement the cloth pulled at the wound, making him grit his teeth in pain. Earlier he was unable to notice it, too drunk and angry to care for mundane things such as pain. No, in that state of mind, all he wanted was a bottle, filled with whatever alcohol he could find. And if that was denied to him... well. He’d get a bit agitated. It was only natural!

Staggering to his feet, he whipped the sweat of his brow, swallowing down a scowl at the sight before him. Sypha was kneeling by the sitting Alucard’s side, dabbing at his bleeding temple with a piece of cotton. Did he really hit him hard enough to break skin? No, the cut was deeper, and it wasn’t healing as quickly as it ought to on his dhamipir self. He didn’t have to look down to realize that he no longer had his whip on him- the absence of weight on his hip was a proof enough.
Considering that both golden heads were ignoring him for the time being, he busied himself with finding his whip and folding it back in place. Alucard only wanted him sober. Not something he had any right to, but not the worse thing he could have demanded. Certainly not deserving of whip to the face, now was it?
„Um“ he tried to gather their attention „I get that you are both angry and what not, and I don’t really care for it, but I didn’t mean to use the whip“ he explained, the apology sounding pathetic to his own ears. „I’m-„ before he could at least attempt to be polite, Sypha turned to glare at him, exposing the blossoming bruise on her right cheek.
„What happened to you?!“ he rushed to them, falling on his knees in front of her, reaching out but not touching her- a good thing too, since she edged away, a snarl decorating her lips.
„What happened? What happened is that you hit me, Belmont. Elbowed me straight to the face is what you did. Right after I tried to stop you from flogging Alucard!“ she snapped, her lithe body shaking with anger. The water in her eyes was boiling, and he realized that the way she kept making faces at his stench over the past few days was nothing. The way she looked at him at that very moment, that was true disgust.
Honestly, he would have preferred she claw open his rib cage and rip his heart out. Alucard’s silence, accompanied by longer fangs and a sneer, already took care that his lungs feel shred. He could remember it, then. As if through a fog, yes, but clearly enough. He flung his whip at Alucard, and the man fell enough. Then Sypha was all but hanging from his arm, screaming, begging that he calms down, that he doesn’t harm him; and he flung her onto the ground, his elbow meeting her face with a sickening thud. Then, instead of checking on her, he was back on Alucard like a rabid beast. Barely better than one of the horde they were battling against.
„I’m sorry“ he gasped, bottom lip trembling. „I didn’t mean to. Sypha, I’d never... Alucard too, I’m sorry!“ he stumbled over his words, eyes darting between the two of them, desperate for any sign of forgiveness and guilty for knowing he had no claim to it what so ever. He had no right to expect forgiveness, and it did not come as a surprise when their faces showed none.
„Of course you didn’t /mean to/“ Sypha drawled, rising to her feet. Alucard followed, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. It offered support and protection, and in the way she held his hand, it was obvious she was granting him the same.
„We will be staying tonight here as well. And thanks to your little adventure, we all are nice and tired instead of rested“ she explained as they started walking. They stopped after a few meters, however, and then it was Alucard who turned.
„You better come hither, Belmont“ he said lowly „You are not to leave our sight. If I see you even near that in, I swear to all that may still be holy that I will break both of your arms“ the way he said ran shivers down Trevor’s spine, who knew in that moment Alucard did not utter a threat, but a promise instead.
He followed, trailing behind but not so far they’d have to wonder about his whereabouts. That night, only Sypha and Alucard shared their body heat.

It was Alucard that woke him up the following morning. Trevor didn’t know when precisely he fell asleep, thoughts of shame and guilt having kept him awake for most of the night. But he was used to small amounts of sleep- it was nothing he couldn’t walk off.
„Sit up“ Alucard said curtly, putting a bottle on the ground as he knelt next to the Hunter. It was then that Trevor noticed the smell. Beautiful, sharp sting of vodka. Probably a cheap swill, but it brought intoxication so much quicker than wine or ale.
„Don’t even think about it“ dhampir snarled at him, tugging him by the collar to have him sit. „It is just to clean your wound. You are not getting drunk again“
„I do not need you to clean the wound. I’m fine“ Trevor argued. He knew he was in the wrong. The wound should have been cleaned at least three times by then, even he was aware of that, but his antics have distracted them all. But arguing was the only way to prolong the conversation, and so he argued. He had a feeling neither of the warriors would be speaking to him much anymore, so he greedily took the opportunity to hear the vampires voice.
„I am not arguing about this, Belmont!“ Alucard shouted, clearly not in the mood for games. Too roughly, he pulled the tunic up, effectively ripping much skin with it. He cursed, pressing an alcohol soaked cloth to the raw flesh, causing the brunette to hiss.

„It wouldn’t be so disgusting if you gave us the opportunity to mend it yesterday“ the dhampir explained to the human, standing up after washing down the burn. He was merely speaking to ease the nagging voice in his head that said he had the opportunity to look into it the previous evening- Belmont was sober at the time. Grinding his teeth together, he told the voice to shut up about it- both he and Sypha were too agitated for medics at the time, the hunter saw to that.
’Yes’ the voice kept going ’But shouldn’t you be above it? Did you have to rip his skin off just now? That will probably infect now, and then Sypha will have to burn it all over again’
Alucard groaned once he left Belmont’s company, finding that he had nothing to say to the man. No, that was a lie. He had so much to say, but to what cause? The man has proved to not care of his words over and over again. No matter how much he’d try, it would all be for naught. So why not just save himself the humiliation and keep his mouth shut?
He met Sypha at the Church’s entrance, and even the joy he’d always feel at seeing her was hindered by the dark purple stain on her cheek. It only made his temper rise again; how dare that beast hurt her?
„I found us some supplies“ his angel spoke, her weariness audible in the dulled bell of her voice. She gestured at the large cloth bag she draped over shoulder, shrugging „There was a wagon, but all the animals are dead“ she added, a small shudder rocking her body. The state she found the animals in was not pretty, nor did it smell good. Most of all, it brought her sorrow- some of the poor buggers have died of starvation, while others died of infected wounds. There was one creature that she found that wasn’t dead, but it wasn’t worth mentioning. Not unless she wanted to cry again, that is. A large dog, which once was probably beautiful, approached her with a limp and a whimper, its large eyes brimming in fright. It was skittish around her, begging her to pet it, yet when she extended her hand, ever so gently, the poor thing fled. After what it has gone through, it now feared even the gentle touch it once was so used to. With its owners gone, it was alone, and no one was there to take of it. It would die alone, Sypha knew. Hopefully, mercifully sooner rather than later, before it went mad with fright and cold, or something in the night finally snatched it. Over Alucard’s shoulder, she saw Belmont watching.
„It is about a week to your family’s hold“ she called out. „We are leaving now“.

Chapter Text

Days stepped into each other slowly. All three of the travelers were young and strong, but the bumpy road wasn’t meant for traveling by foot. The rocks were ill placed and often insecure in their hold, and in the morning, wet with dew, they posed a genuine risk of spraining one’s ankle.
Alucard wasn’t worried about getting injured himself. Not only were his reflexes catlike, but his healing ability was also exquisite. A sprained ankle, even a broken bone, wouldn’t hold him down even for full five minutes. No, whom he was worried about was his lover. The speaker was brave and determined, but the long periods of walking truly did her no good, more so when she was tormented with period of another kind. Despite her best efforts, she constantly wore an expression of discomfort, her teeth grit and brow wet with sweat that had nothing to do with the exercise of walking. Pale and in pain, she also needed way more food than what the Belmont was able to hunt down for them. After the hunter showed his true colors, Alucard was disgusted to accept any food the man gave him, but the alternative was that he goes hunting himself- and he was not going to leave Sypha alone with that drunken sod. Rationally, he knew that the brunette would never harm a girl while sober, but it was a matter of principle. Just like how he kept sharing his food with Sypha, knowing she needed additional sustenance, but both he and the speaker refused Trevor’s offers of his own meal. If both he and Alucard shared with her, the dhampir would be less hungry, but he’d keep his pride fed much rather than his belly. He already had to accept Belmont bringing them food. He would not lower himself enough to accept his own share as well; it would give the bastard an idea that he was actually doing something nice, something worth forgiving for.
A handful of rat meat or hawk’s guts wasn’t worth forgiving for. Alucard, in all honestly, knew not what the hunter would have to do to atone. He hit Sypha, for crying out loud, and it angered the dhampir as a lover, yes. But so did the attack Belmont bestowed on him over a bottle of cheap wine. Alucard knew his own worth, and he knew that the likes of Trevor shouldn’t upset him when showing disrespect. A pig will never be able to appreciate a diamond now will it? But somehow, Seeing how Belmont valued him less than piss like swill struck as a personal offense that harmed not only pride, but other feelings too. A sense of betrayal was strong, even though he knew the man for less than a week.
And it wouldn’t lessen. No matter how pathetic the hunter looked, trotting behind them miserably, always a few meters behind. He had tried talking with them when they left the village. Apologized again. Said he wouldn’t drink anymore. Remarked on the weather, commented if it will truly take them a week or a bit more, maybe less. He was ignored, of course. The only times either Sypha or he spoke to the hunter was when discussing the watch, and even that fell flat after two days, when they have established that Belmont would take the first watch, Sypha the second and Alucard the third. An accepted pattern needed no more discussion, so both of the blondes kept quit around the hunter, only speaking among themselves, in private, hushed tones of affection and worry for each other.

While Sypha watched over them during the hour of the wolf, Alucard would greet the dawn during his own guard. It was a peaceful hour, for the nights when they weren’t attacked by monsters. He, like any man of same mind, hated the heathens, but he found himself almost wishing for their company when he saw the hunter stir and sit up from his place on the ground about half an hour after Sypha woke him up so she could take her own rest. The dhampir frowned, hiding his scowl by looking away. The timing was way too convenient- Belmont only rose when he was certain that the speaker was deep in her slumber. He didn’t wake up on accident. He was awake for awhile, waiting for his chance. Like a bloody hyena. He made a mental note to pay attention to the hunter’s breathing in the future, when he is supposed to be slumbering. After all, he and Sypha tended to spend time together for a short while every night. He didn’t want the Belmont eavesdropping on it. It was none of his business what they spoke of, or how their kisses sounded like. Agitated, Alucard kept quiet as the hunter sat next to him, unwilling to break the days of silence between them

„You need to feed“
„What?!“
Well, there went the silence. He was lucky he didn’t wake Sypha. He glared at the hunter, only to find him as passive as he could be- which wasn’t much. Belmont was many things, but a great actor wasn’t one. He clearly was nervous, even if he tried to put on a casual facade.
„You heard me“ came the hoarse reply „You haven’t fed in seven days. I know you need to feed. Don’t lie“
That wasn’t incorrect. He supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised. Belmont was raised a demon hunter; him knowing of dhampir habits was a part of his education. But what did the oaf propose to do of it? He’d just have to deal with the hunger, hope his powers don’t diminish too drastically before he finds a source, even though they haven’t encountered a living being in days... oh. Belmont was pulling at his tunic.
„Meaning every offense, Belmont, I would rather die than even touch your unwashed skin. Let alone drink that polluted blood of yours“ he sneered, gulping down excess saliva that was suddenly in his mouth. He couldn’t be drooling for Belmont’s blood! He wouldn’t even accept man’s portion of rat meat. How could he indebt himself by drinking his life force?
„You need to keep strong. This is better than nothing“ the hunter replied, a badly contained hurt in his voice „To protect her. She is sick already. Don’t think I haven’t noticed“
Sick? Sypha wasn’t sink. What was he on about? Dear Lord.
„You stupid little idiot“ he muttered through grit teeth, whipping his mouth with his hand „She is not sick, you dense... and you act like you are onto us? You’re clueless! She is not sick, you idiot, she is on her period!“
„On her what?“
„Period“
„Yeah, I don’t know what that means“
„... she is having her moonsblood“
„Oh!- mphm!“ Trevor’s cry of realization was cut short when Alucard clasped his hand tightly over his mouth „Hush, you moron! You’ll wake her!“
„Fine, fine, sorry!“ came the gruff reply when he let him go. The hunter’s cheeks were dusted red, the man having not the doctor’s distance from a lady’s private parts. Probably just thinking of it seemed oh so scandalous to the hunter. „It doesn’t change much, though. You still need your strength. Or will you boycott me here too? You barely eat, Alucard. You will waste away before we meet your bloody father“ he ignored the death glare that was sent his way „You hate me already, so what’s the harm? You cannot possibly drink from Sypha. Not only is she in a... condition“ he stuttered „She’s tiny. She needs every bit of blood she has“ That wasn’t precisely true. Sypha could proportionally deal with the same blood loss as Trevor, granted not while bleeding herself. But again, on someone her size, that blood loss was indeed very small- it wouldn’t sate him, and would just leave him dissatisfied and her frail without a good reason.
„It is not a good idea to offer yourself to a dhampir that hates you“ he said in warning, although his senses were already running overboard, digging past the stench and the sin and into Trevor’s veins, sniffing out the blood of a hunter, traveling with it through his fast beating heart.
„... neither was drinking back in that village“ Trevor said lowly, completely unsuspecting of the outburst that followed.
„Good grief, is this some damned attempt at martyrdom?! I will not forgive you for nearly taking my eye out, and /hitting Sypha/, just because you let me drink your alcohol diluted blood! It is not a tit for tat, Belmont! You-„
„Oh shut up! You think I care for your forgiveness? Just fucking bite me so that we-„ Alucard’s fangs sunk into his neck the very same moment.

It was like nothing else underneath the blue sky above them. It was tasty and disgusting in the same time, the rich, succulent taste spoiled by the years of alcohol abuse yet no one could ever claim it was watered down. It was tainted, powerful, and filling like the hearthiest stew. It was not sweet, nor was it salty like dried meat. It tasted like blood, plain and simple, except that to Alucard’s dhampir palette, such a taste was more than amazing. No, what separated one blood from the other wasn’t the taste that one felt underneath their tongue, it was the one they felt in their soul. Trevor tasted like pain. Regret and longing too, but pain was almost overbearing. Overcome by his instincts, Alucard drank more, wanting more of that pain, wanting more of Belmont, Trevor, prey. That, the experience of another’s life force seeping into the drinker, was why animal blood didn’t work as a sustainable choice of diet. Vampires, dhampirs, they fed on humans and humans alone. That is what they were made for. And nothing, no bear, pig or god could replace that.

He barely had enough sense to stop when he did. He had a feeling he took more than he intended already, but with his experience, he could tell that no true harm was done, although the hunter swayed dangerously. He steadied him with a hand on his shoulder and one on his healthy side, moving close again to lick over the wounds as to close them. The action was followed by a soft whine, and he couldn’t say he was surprised. Unless vampire willed it otherwise, a bite would be as painful as his sucosciousness willed it. Honestly, Alucard was surprised Belmont didn’t scream in pain. He obviously wasn’t enjoying himself too much, but the light headedness that overcame him was caused not just by agony. Glad that Belmont was too out of it to truly understand the situation, and that exhausted Sypha slumbered on, he opted to ignore the obvious tent in Trevor’s pants and merely set the man on to lay down, where he fell asleep almost before his head touched the grass. After a moment of hesitation, he adjusted the Belmont’s cape around him to cover him better, and then made his distance, licking the residue blood from his lips, chin and teeth. So much pain...

The morning came none too soon, and Alucard offered no thanks. Not that Belmont expected it, right? The day was spent silent all together, Trevor trailing behind like a starving dog, while Sypha was too focused on her own aches to realize Alucard’s own silence was awkward rather than timid. He was selfishly grateful for her distracted state, because it kept questions at bay, but the speaker was a clever woman- if he didn’t get his act together, she’d notice he was keeping something from her. And the conversation that was bound to take place then would be the most awkward. And why would they have to talk about it, anyways? Would she have the answer to why the hell Belmont got aroused when Alucard for him held nothing but hate? He doubted it.

Chapter Text

Alucard’s fangs were grazing against his upper lip, as the dhampir was panting in his mouth. He had two fingers in Trevor, quickly adding a third one before spreading them. Aware of the slick mess between his legs, he could do little more than moan, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. Alucard grabbed hold of the hair on his scalp, as if he needed the additional control of the human. He didn’t- Trevor already was laying willingly like an offering, his thighs spread for the dhampir’s viewing pleasure, chest heaving with arousaul.
„Adrian“ he gasped, his arms locking around the blond’s shoulders. „Fuck. Please...“ he begged, arching his back, trying to have the other impale him deeper with the slick digits. Alucard refused to change his pace, but as if to compensate, he leaned in, biting deep into Trevor’s neck. While he was moaning much like a tavern wench, he felt fingers leave him empty and gaping, before something blunt parted his lips, entering his tight heat in a single fluid motion. There was no pain, but combined with the high of the bite, Trevor found he couldn’t remember his own name.
„So tight“ Alucard growled once he drank his fill, his hips snapping roughly, making the ground shake behind them.
„So beautiful“ he said next, raising one of Trevor’s legs on his shoulder, kissing the underside of his knee.
„So good for me“ he gasped, his hand grasping his breast firmly,thumb flicking over the perked nipple.
He looked Trevor in the eye, a groan escaping his rose bitten lips.
„I love you“ he confessed, and in his gaze Trevor saw not his face, but the reflection of pleasure drunk Sypha Belnades.

Of course it wasn’t enough to attack the only people who have shown him a shred of decency in the past decade, Trevor thought to himself miserably the following morning. He also had to go ahead and dream of them, and lewdly at that. Why was he such a fucking animal? He gulped, remembering the hardness in his breeches he woke up with, his mouth dry and heart beating fast in his chest. That at least was understandable, a normal reaction to an obscene dream. But the nature of the dream himself was inexcusable. If he only dreamed of Sypha, he’d feel dirty, guilty of sullying her. But at least he could try and rationalize that it is a normal desire from a man to bed a woman, even if she was a goddess where he was a dog. But instead, he dreamed of being a woman, ridden by a man- by Alucard of all people. How could he even look him in the eye anymore? Either of them?
He sighed, reminding himself that he had lost that right the moment he attacked Alucard at that tavern. More so when he hit Sypha.
’All I can do is try to make sure it doesn’t get you killed’ he had told her. Offered her, no, promised her protection. Yet it wasn’t the beasts or monsters that hurt her- it was him.

Crossing into what once was his family’s land made him wish for wine and memory loss. And when he saw what once was a mansion, he was almost relieved there was no one to welcome him there. The Belmont hold, in ruins and abandoned, still represented more honor and bravery than he’d ever hold; coming to his ancestral home as he was made him feel just the way Alucard called him when they first met. A runt with a family crest. Running around without purpose or goal until one was thrust upon him; and once that was done he’d either be dead or alone again. He knew not which he’d prefer. A bolder part of him wished to claim for the whole world to hear how he yearned death, how he’d welcome it, but if that was a case, why didn’t he embrace it years ago? He had so many chances, every day. So many excuses. Yet never did he bring a blade to his wrist. A coward, really. A coward and a leech. There was no good that life could grant him, and even less good he could grant life, yes he clung onto it like maggots did on a corpse. Clung to it, crawled through it, drank through it, all the while wearing the Belmont crest and ridiculing it further.

„You mean to tell me your family made it their destiny to murder every and all magic yet your wealth is guarded by it?“ Alucard sneered, scoffing to himself in disgust as he followed behind his lover and the Hunter. The door of the Hold closed up just as he went deep enough, denying them the brightness of moonlight. To his night eyes a complete darkness was nothing to be concerned with, but onthe behalf of his human companions, he was grateful for the torches- and Sypha’s magic that soon lit the entire Hold in the warm toned firelight.
„You don’t know shit about my family, Alucard“ Trevor growled lowly, his back turned to the blond. He sounded like the animal he already smelled like, and Alucard’s upper lip curled in disgust.
„I know that you murder“ he sneered, voice dangerously low „I have lost many innocent friends to your family, Belmont“ he informed the other. He wasn’t naive- the basic premise of Belmont heritage was honorable, but mistakes were made all too often.
„Shut. The fuck. Up“ Trevor said slowly, turning to face him. His hand was gripping on the railing so hard his knuckles have turned white, but he paid it no mind.
„If we killed absolutely all that is magic, there would be far less Speaker Magicians around! Your kind eats mine, dhampir, not the other way around. Remember that when you think to spit on my family’s legacy while in our Hold!“ he stressed, glaring daggers at the fair man. In response, Alucard quirked one perfectly thin brow.
„I do not need to spit on it, Belmont. You already did it on your own“ he said almost pleasantly.

„Enough!“ Sypha’s voice cut through the air before Trevor’s blade could.
„We did not come here to argue some more. We came here to try and put the end to the war. Belmont. Where are your families scripts on Dracula and his castle?“
„... I don’t know“
„Excuse me?“
„I don’t know. I can’t read, remember?“
The copper haired woman looked at him with obvious disbelief.
„I thought you meant you couldn’t read magic and its runes, not letters. How did you manage not to learn to read by the time you were twelve? Didn’t your family hire you tutors?“ she asked, curiosity seeming to break her ’I shan’t talk to Trevor Belmont any more than necessary’ decision.
„Well, yes. But I wasn’t really interested in learned, and father understood I’d be more useful just using the extra hours to train“ Trevor lied through his teeth, breaking the eye contact. A shame, really- her eyes were beautiful. But lying to her after she just finally graced him with her words made guilt stir in his gut. Sypha sighed, running her fingers through her hair. It was starting to get greasy. If they were still friendly with each other, Trevor would tease her about it. Her and Alucard both.
„Well, I guess we better try and find them on our own“ she concluded, now speaking to Alucard rather than him. It was nice while it lasted, Trevor supposed, staying put against the railing as the due descended into the massive library. They didn’t need him on their task, after all.

„You don’t have to be so cruel to him“ Sypha said in a hush as they knelt over a box, pulling out various books on vampires. None were particularly related to Dracula himself, but every little bit helped; of course, the Belmont hold held a lot of those bits.
„... I wasn’t cruel. I simply-“
„Alucard. Don’t“ he looked up to her, silenced by her interruption. She looked down instead, not angry, but saddened instead.
„You need to be honest with me. Like you were a few nights ago, you know I will understand you“ she told him, her nimble fingers trailing down the spine of one of the books. „You were cruel to him now, you know that, yes?“
„Yes“ it wasn’t a flattering thing to confess to, but absence of secrets between them made his chest lighter.
„Why?“
That required a little more thinking to answer.
„Well, I’m angry. He hurt us both, he hurt you. I want to hurt him in return and he doesn’t care for my words either way so I do not care much either for what I tell him. It’s the fact, Sypha! He simply doesn’t care for what the world thinks of him, which in other circumstances might would have been commendable, but he cares not for words either“
„He cares for the absence of them“
„What?“
„Come on. You saw him the last few days. He is following us like a scolded puppy“
At that, Alucard had to scoff. „You mean all should be forgiven because he is a little sad?“
„A little desperate. I wouldn’t be this... forgiving either, if circumstances were different. But he is still here, aiming to save the same world that turned its back on him. He choose to fight with us, and we need him. Holding grudges over a drunken brawl will only set us back“
„I can’t forget what happened“ Alucard insisted.
„I am not asking you to. I will not forget either“ she assured him, her fingers tenderly touching the yellowing bruise on her cheek. „But try and set it behind you, lest it sets you behind. He is sorry- and being this tight with time, we have to accept it“
„As you wish. I suppose- I should tell you something else, too“
„What is it?“
„... he let me feed on him. He offered“
Sypha’s mouth went slack, and Alucard had to smile in spite of himself, gently reaching out and closing her jaw for her, his fingers lingering on the underside of her chin.
„It was selfless of him“ he admitted „Not that I told him that“ he added, biting into his lip.
„Oh, Alucard! You should have thanked him. But why didn’t you ask me? I completely forgot you may need blood as well as food. I am an idiot“
He shrugged with one shoulder „I didn’t want to ask you something so dire“ he admitted „And as he pointed out- you’re tiny. He has more blood to spare“ he explained.
„Well excuse me for not being fat!“ she scoffed, burying her nose in the bookcase again, the dust making her sneeze. It made Alucard laugh.
„Are you seriously upset I didn’t bite you?“ he asked through a chuckle, doing his best to contain his laughter when his lover sneezed once again.
„No! But it would be nice to be asked“ she pouted „Besides. I heard a vampire’s bite can be quite an experience when done a certain way“ she added, wiggling her eyebrows at him teasingly. He was so handsome when he blushed.
„Yes, about that... Trevor seemed to think the same thing“ he said awkwardly, glancing elsewhere.
„Oh? But I thought pleasure only happened when the vampire cares for the source? Unless you wanted him to feel that way?“
„I didn’t! He just decided to have his pants tight before he passed out on me. I did not do a thing. And I do not care for him“ Alucard stumbled over his words, grasping Sypha’s hand in both of his own. „I care for you“ he explain, the gold of his eyes meeting the blues of hers.
„I know, silly“ she kissed him chastely „I know you do“ But you may just care for someone else too, she thought to herself, and was stunned to find no jealousy in her heart.

Chapter Text

He had little to do while Sypha and Alucard ravaged the last of his home for murderous purposes. Illiterate as he was, he could be of no help what so ever, which left him to his own devices. He tried to be productive, finding many crates of weapons, offering them to the duo to help themselves to their pleasure. Alucard was interested in giving the items a courtesy glace, but he had no interest in adding anything to his arsenal, his peculiar sword being quite enough for him. Not to mention that most of the weapons Trevor could offer were consecrated.
Sypha, however, did take a dagger. It was long and vicious, the blade sharpened on an artful level and the handle perfect for her dainty hand. Luckily, it also had a shed, as the speaker decided to take a thigh garter is well and hide her new weapon underneath her skirts. A practice Trevor could understand well enough, having grown up with five older sisters, all of them both ladylike and deadly to a mortal man, but it would have been nice to have had a warning before the speaker hitched up her robes to tie his mother’s leather garter around the soft, apple white flesh of her thigh. She did apologize after seeing how red he became at the sight, trying to explain that Speakers, spending so little time in privacy and always in large groups, were far less frightful of naked bodies than ordinary folk, but it did very little good- because Trevor wasn’t horrified at the scandal of a beautiful, unwed woman baring her legs in front of his crass gaze, but the fact that the sight of those long, beautiful legs was something he wouldn’t forget for as long as he lived. Considering he already harbored the same sentiment towards Alucard’s naked torso, he truly hoped neither of them would be taking their clothes off in front of him again- he already had way too many sinful thoughts to count.
But each and every one of them was better than the temptation when he found bottles in one of the storage rooms.

Sypha watched Trevor from the hallway, only partly glancing through the open door; she did not want to be seen. Her heart sunk when he filled himself a goblet, heavy with disappointment- he had promised! But his fingers shook around the glass, some of the wine splashing out before he gulped down the contents without even pausing too feel the taste.
„Just one“ she heard him rasp, breathing labored as if he had ran for miles instead of merely had a glass of wine. But no... it wasn’t the glass that was affecting him. It was all the wine that he did not yet drink, sitting in front of him. He poured himself another glass, and when he downed it, he did not even fill it again fully before he brought it to his lips.
„Come on, come on, just one more“ he whispered to himself, panting. Then he let the cup fall onto the floor with a clank and brought the bottle to his lips.
„Stop, stop! Stop!“ she called out, unable to let it go any further. She rushed into the room, all blue robes and copper hair, and in shock, Trevor dropped the bottle. The breaking glass was not as loud as the fear on Belmont’s face, and he stepped back as red soaked into the soles of his boots.
„I- I was just having one“ he stuttered, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, looking left and right like a caged animal. „I’m sorry, it was just one- I didn’t get drunk!“
„Trevor“ she said merely, and he shut up immediately. „I am not too mad. Just... come. Find some sword to polish or whatever and come join us.“
He blinked slowly, his fingers restless. „You’re not, really? Why? I- I lied to you“
„Yes, and I forgive you. Now come. And the next time I see you with a bottle I will hit you with it“ she promised, taking his hand and pulling him out of the room, creating a wind to shut the door to the room.
„Found him!“ she yelled as they descended down the stairs, on the level on which Alucard was sitting on the floor surrounded what appeared to be a sea of aged, yellowish paper.
„Good, good“ Alucard replied, looking up first at his lover, then at the man who’s hand she was holding. A scowl claimed his features, and he sniffed the air a few times, a small sneer on his lips.
„Did you have a good drink, Belmont?“ he asked lowly, perfectly able to smell fresh booze on the man. That was about the only fresh thing about the male anyways.
„He’s sober. Don’t give him hard time“ Sypha cut in before Trevor could, making a mental note to discuss barring the door to the liquor room when she caught a moment alone with Alucard.
„Stinking is what he is“ the dhampir drawled, looking back down on the papers around him.
„Yes, well you ain’t no blushing rose either anymore, dhampir. Your hair is gressier than archbishop’s cunt“
„Trevor!“ Sypha hit him in the arm, utterly appaled, and while it did not even uproot his footing, he himself could admit he earned it. On the other hand, Alucard scoffed.
„Yes, well, I myself at least recognize it“ he said snidely, standing up „And I plan to deal with it. And you-„ he pointed at the hunter „Will do the same. There is a stream not at all far from here. Come now.“
„Firstly, no, I’m good- secondly, there is a tub here. Several. Have Sypha draw you a bath“ he explained, rolling his eyes as if Alucard was being stupid.
„Oh I saw them. But they are way too small for your amount of filth. You need to be dumped in the river“ the blond countered, approaching the hunter and placing a hand on his shoulder to stir him.
„Hey! Hands off! I said I am not having a bath!“ Trevor raised his voice, backing up a few steps on the stairs. Alucard followed.
„You are not really being granted a choice here“.
The stream brought on more memories than it was worthy. A portal to the past, it was, and although there was no human life other than them for miles on end, he could see invisible nyphs, faceless shapes of his sisters who loved to swim in that stream so much during harshly hot summers. They would spend a whole day in the water, laughing and giggling louder than they ever did in the manor, and mother would have to send him outside to bore them into at least coming to supper. That water was the only thing that ever made them disobedient, made them shed the finery of their clothes and status, and have them gossip and quack at each other like a bunch of milkmaids. It wasn’t dignified, but it was so pure and rare that not even father, who despised disovbedience oh so much, couldn’t hold it against them.
Of course, it did help that they were girls- them he couldn’t hit, and yelling exhausted him. He had no such trouble with the boys, and Trevor knew it better than any of his older brothers. After all, a child who stubbornly refuses to learn to read for years is due its fair share of beatings. It still made Trevor’s heart ache that he upset so much, and it pulled at what remained of it that hewasn’t doing it deliberately. But letters would scatter around the page and he simply wasn’t bright enough to catch them- it came to everyone else with such an ease.

„I don’t want to take a bath“ he said through a tight throat, watching the last ghost of a woman far too young disappear into the clear water.
„Trevor, you stink“ Sypha said gleefully, shedding her robes without a hint of modesty, and she ran into the stream gleefully. Her mirthful laughter was so young and familiar it made Trevor wish he was dead.
„Why do you refuse now? We are at the stream. We have where to run to if something happens. Just take of your clothes and dive. It is not that hard“ Alucard said, taking off his coat with a lot more care than Sypha did with her blue cotton. His slipped out of his boots too, and his shirt followed.
„.. it is too much work“ Trevor finally said, voice at half its might as he folded his arms over his chest almost protectively. „The whole... taking all of your layers only to dunk yourself in water, then pulling them all back on while you are not even dry yet... it is too much work. I don’t want to do it. You guys get clean. I’m good“ he said, his teeth hurting from the effort he put in not to have them chatter.
He ignored Alucard’s melodramatic sigh of eternal suffering, but he flinched when he felt his fur being ripped from his shoulders.
„Hey! Don’t just toss it on the ground!“ he complained, bringing his hands up to protect his leather shoulder protector.
„Oh please, don’t lie that you’re worried about its cleanliness! It smells as if you’ve been using it to wipe your arse for years!“ Alucard dismissed him, putting hands on his shoulders.
„Now, either you take your clothes of and run into that stream, or in the name of your God, I /will/ push you in there as you are“ he warned calmly, his eyebrows raised as if asking ’what will it be?’
„Fuck off“

And that was how Trevor found himself in the stream, soaked to the bone- although the weight of the drenched clothes soon disappeared, and it took him way too long to realize it was Sypha that was unclothing him.
„Good grief“ the woman muttered, running her hand down Trevor’s naked back. It was scared more than she could have imagined, but it was also still so damned grimy.
„I saw a bathchamber back in the hold“ she said „With a tub. I suggest you scrub down here the best you can, then we can soak you up there. This... need to end“ she snorted, daring to briefly pet the wet rat that currectly posed as Belmont’s hair.
„No!“ he whisked to face her, bottom lip wobbling „It is too much work! I don’t want to- I can’t- I’m tired!“
The outburst took her by surprise, and she met his gaze curiously „Trevor, we haven’t walked that much today“ she said gently „I’ve seen you go for much longer, I know a little bath won’t bring you ruin“
„That’s not what I meant!“
„Then what did you mean?“ she asked patiently, only to have him cry out that he didn’t know.
„Well, what I know is that you are getting that bath. I will boil your clothes too, so that your efforts aren’t for nothing. And if you be good, I’ll take care of your hair. How does that sound?“ she asked with a small smile, taking his hands in hers.
He pouted still, but the small nod he gave was as much of an agrement as she was going to get.

„Don’t worry, I’ll comb your hair too“ she pacified Alucard as her lover wrapped his arms around her waist possesively, his naked chest pressing against her back.

Chapter Text

The bath chamber was small for three people, more so when one of them was Trevor’s size. However, it was well isolated, and stocked with bath oils and creams that have somehow not turned to dust after a decade of not being used- probably due to the well made seals. Belmonts, before their demise, were nobility. They were able to take their bathing well and with pleasure, rather than merely scrub themselves down with cold well water, like peasants did. If only their last son kept the sentiment to him, Alucard thought with a barely visible quirk to his lips. His thoughts were interrupted by his lover, who nudged him.
„Can you get the bathtub out of here?“ she asked, looking at the heavy metal thing.
„I... could, yes. Why? This room is ideal for bathing“ he asked, clearly confused at the request.
„Well, it is rather big, but not enough for three. I think it would be easier if I just created a small rain in here- warm, of course. I always do that when on the road, I think you’ll like it. It is really pleasant“ she tried to convince him, but Alucard was already sold on the idea, although Belmont was confused, until the thick, warm water started dribbling from above them yet not from the ceiling itself. He understood Sypha’s intentions then, watching as she took all of his clothing and dumped it in the bath that Alucard dragged out. So that is why she wanted it out- she’d have his rags soak while they all bathe. It was such a homely, womanly thing to think of- Trevor forgot how clever women were in those small matters of cleanliness and... well. Living as something other than a traveling drunk.
„Why do you need my knife in a bath?!“ he gasped when Sypha returned carrying one of his smaller blades.
„Oh relax, you big baby. I am going to shave while you two bathe. Alucard has long hair and you are as muddy as a bear. I’ll have enough time“ she scoffed, settling herself in the corner and drenching her leg in oil before running the blade flatly over it. Why was she removing hair from her legs? Trevor, who previously made a point to look as little as possible on her naked form, now openly stared, until Alucard’s fake cough reminded him to not watch what wasn’t his.

The washcloth was wet and heavy in his hand; way too heavy. Trevor was sitting hunched over on a small stone bench, the warm rain Sypha created leaving him soaked, but not clean. No, to get clean, he would have to put in effort, and the man who spent his life battling men and monsters alike felt like there was no greater task than pouring bath oil on his skin and scrubbing off the years of sweat, blood, and grime.
„Give me that“ he looked up, not surprised by the command, but whom it was coming from.
„What?“ he asked, voice almost breaking. He must have been a sorry sight indeed, drenched and filthy as he was, for Alucard to offer help. Instead of replying, the dhampir took the wash cloth for the hunter’s grasp, soft skin of his fingers grazing over Trevor’s rough, scarred palms. Wordlessly, he took hold of the hunter’s hand and started scrubbing. He applied quite some pressure, leaving the skin raw and reddened, but also wonderfully, perfectly clean. It took less than a minute, Trevor’s sluggish mind realized as the blond washed his other hand, not forgetting the underside of his nails either. Trevor, for the life of him, couldn’t remember the last time his nails weren’t black, almost navy with the mixture of dirt and blood, but Alucard cleaned the years of dirt and sorrow in no more than a lullaby would take. The clean hands looked like they belonged on someone else, and Trevor barely noticed when Alucard moved onto cleaning his arms and shoulders, the wet rag digging into his skin and massaging the sore muscles. No, he was still so much focused on his hands.
They were whiter than he thought they were; apparently, he wasn’t as tan as he thought he was- the dark, olive sheen on his skin was a product of dirt, not sun. How could he ever thought it was the sun? He ran from sunlight like a cat from a broom, it’s brightness always worsening the ever present hangover. How lost was he, he wondered, not to know what his hands looked like? They were wide, fingers strong but long, permanently calloused from the years of weapons and hard labor. His father had the callouses too, Trevor remembered; he felt them when his father would pick him up merrily, but way more often, when he would strike him angrily. It was a bitter memory, one he’d never be able to fix. How could he let his father die without even seeing his youngest read? Why couldn’t he have done that for him? He had wanted it so much. He’d come back from a hunt, bruised and battered and hungry and tired, wounded, and he’d go not to have a bath, not to his marital bed, but to Trevor’s room, to see his son’s improvement.
There was never any. The boy simply couldn’t do it, one of the tutors finally said; he was a simpleton. That particular tutor left the manor with a bag of silver and four teeth lacking, but father’s rage did not lessen upon seeing his back.
„You’re given the opportunity so many would kill for, Trevor“ he’d try to talk sense into the disobedient child before his pacience would fail him and he’d use his hands once again. „Education is such a precious thing in these grim times. You need it, everybody does, but you were granted the privilege of being born into nobility. You, and not someone else, have all the means to learn. To refuse it is not only to spit on everything I provide you with it, but also on all the people better than you who will never eat as well as you eat, and be given the tutors you so easily send away with ignorance“. And so Trevor spat; as much as he tried, written word never stuck to his tongue and mind. In return, Alexander Belmont was angry. Anger was what got him his lady wife when her father refused to give his love smithen daughter to a warlord; anger was what helped him murder instead of leave his children orphans. Anger, or so help him God, would be what will make his son read. Alas, both of them were too stubborn. And before it could be seen who’d win, church burned all of them, but one small, illiterate boy.
Alexander Belmont never saw his son read.

„Trevor? Why are you crying?“ Adrian’s voice spur him from his thoughts, and he quickly whipped his face clean of tears, wondering how the man noticed them in the first place, what with Sypha’s magical rain, or ’shower’ as Alucard insisted they should call it.
„Sorry“ he replied gruffly, lacking energy to deny his own tears. Dhampir’s features softened, and he took him by the chin, gently cleaning his face, making sure to get rid of all the grime, but not irritate the skin too much.
„There“ he said softly, trying to comfort the man whom he barely knew „See what a handsome thing you are with all the grime washed off of you“ Trevor’s bottom lip wobbled slightly, as if the man fought with a fresh wave of tears, and he quickly bit on it to hide the tell tale sign.
„Don’t make yourself a liar to make me feel better“ he asked of the beautiful male, knowing very well that each of the blondes was a fair thing, pure and way more beautiful than he. Hell, he wasn’t even easy on the eye, let alone handsome as Alucard complimented him.
„I am not a liar“ Alucard insisted, cleaning his neck and moving down to his chest „You have done a great job at hiding your looks- I myself haven’t noticed how impressive they were until... recently“ he stuttered at the last part of his sentence, the memory not being a pleasant one. While seeing Belmont’s rugged beauty for the first time certainly was a nice affair, albeit confusing one, it also came in the moment when the Hunter was vulnerable and wounded- neither suited the survivor, and his helpless state at the time left a bitter taste in Alucard’s mouth. Thinking of it, his eyes drifted to the man’s side, where the newest scar was settling into the skin.
„How’s the burn?“ he asked to change the subject, his face heating for unknown reasons „Does it feel taut?“ as Trevor explained the symptoms, glad to no longer debate his questionable physique, Sypha made a mental note to try and find the man a mirror.

Chapter Text

„It’s no wonder“ Adrian sighs that night as he and Sypha rummaget through the library. Trevor is asleep in one of the spare rooms, his energy drained by a simple bath, shave and a haircut. Adrian cannot understand how such ordinary, mundane things can exhaust a man used to fighting minotaurs and werewolves, but it is a riddle that he would have to solve later; the current priority is to fight a way to defeat Dracula.
„What is no wonder?“ Sypha asks without raising her head, going through three books at once. While Adrian is an avid reader, he never was taught any science of reading, nor different ways of it- Sypha seems to have a particular system that is purely devoted to finding information, but she doesn’t offer to teach him. He doesn’t ask, either; it seems to complicated for him to start learning right then. But later, when it is all done... who knows what could come up later?
„That he attacked me with barely any provocation in Grešit. Some of these are not even instructions on how to murder, they are pure propaganda“ he declares, talking about some of the books in his pile. They are hateful, hateful things, he thinks with distaste, and reading them makes him wish for a writer to still breathe so he himself could stop him from doing so.
„It is unfair“ he continues with a frown „Humans have been just as vicious as vampires throughout the history. Most societies don’t even need us for terror, they create it on their own“

„I understand that, Alucard, but people fear what they don’t know. If they murder and bully each other it can be done out of pretense of superiority, some will feel safe thanks to their wealth, or status-the grimness seems like a way of life that befalls the undeserving. But when vampires, or werewolves or demons raise to murder, there are none who are safe. They can hide behind walls and crosses, but none will enjoy immunity based on how rich they are, or due to their priesthood or noble status“ she says „Fearing a vampire that feeds on commonfolk and wealthy alike is much more natural than fearing a roadside thief that you yourself may manage to defeat“ at that, Alucard scoffs, and Sypha finally looks up to him, one of her eyebrows raised.
„Is there something you’d like to say?“
„No. Yes“
„Then say it“
„Well, wealth may indeed protect you from /some/ vampires. There is a vampiress in Styria that takes tokens of silver and bloodbags and thus leaves the wealthy alone, only hunting the poor. She also protects the lands from werewolves and other a monster, making herself a mockpretense of a benevolent ruler“ he explains, setting the book in his hand aside to look at his lover. „Vampires are just like humans. Most of them. They can be bribed, manipulated, negotiated with. They are not mindless beasts. For the most part“ he added the last bit in afterthought, thinking of the red headed vampire in his father’s court. Godbrand was more of an animal than a man, he was convinced, but maybe that was precisely why he didn’t appear particularly vicious compared to the other generals. The less thought a being has to them, the less room there was for evil.
Sypha never replied to that- instead, she stood up, horror obvious on her soft face.
„Adrian, do you hear that?“ she gripped the side of the table so tight her knuckles have turned white, anxiety making her fingers heathen up and burn at the antique piece of furniture. Just as Alucard was about to ask her what she meant, another shriek was heard, louder and clearer. How loud was it truly, if it managed to crawl through the Hold’s closed passage and all the way down?
„It is a child!“ the speaker exclaimed, a tremble in her voice immitating the shaking of her small body. „There is a child out there, Adrian!“ she cried, getting more and more distressed as the wailing went on; it truly sounded like a baby’s cry; no, several babies- dhampir’s ears were able to hear different voices, even if the high pitched crying was done in a symphony. Too good of a symphony, and too loud- what kind of a babe had lungs strong enough to cry and wail so loudly?
„Sypha, i don’t think-“ but she didn’t stay to listen to him. Creating a wind to lengthen her step and make her run faster, she raced out of the room and up the stairs, all but properly flying. A speaker always helped where they were needed, and if a child was in danger, the duty was all the more important- how could she even live with herself if she left a child out there to die?

But it wasn’t a child. It was hell. She swayed on her feet once outside, frozen in place by the sight around her and having trouble processing it.
They had child’s faces, small and seemingly fragile. But underneath the moonlight, she could see that the skin had a gummy texture to it, more like wet leather than anything else. And the sculls, they were deformed, growing bigger at the back in a bizzare outgrowth, and that was not the worst thing. No, what shocked her the most weren’t the legs of grown adults attached to small bodies of toddlers, nor the furry, clawed hands on arms bulging with muscle. No, what had her immobile like a frightened lamb were the mouths full of countless, needle sharp fangs that went in more rows than she could count with bare eye. How did those things even swallow?
The sight was grotesque, disturbing and sick, but the sounds around her remained those of frightened children. It was as if those crawling, eyeless monsters were begging her for help even as they advanced on her, the needes in their mouths produsing a sick, ticking sound as they clashed together.
Sypha fell on her knees, then, and raised her hands in front of her face as if that was all the protection she could muster. She was not magician, at that moment, nor a witch. She wasn’t even a fighter- she was just a girl faced with nightmare that she couldn’t wake up from. A baby was something precious and pure, a new life in the world; something that had to be protected. What perverse magic could turn something so beautiful into the gnarled freaks around her? And so many, too. There were at least three dozens. She shook like a leaf, barely noticing the white wolf that flew past her and set on slaughtering the ugly beasts. When Trevor rushed past her, whip in hand, she was sobbing, unable to help with her fire. She wasn’t sure she’d even be able to use her magic at the moment, not against the deformed creatures that once surely were babies.

„They were babies!“ she cried when the sounds of crying and battle stopped echoing around her. She sobbed again when she felt someone’s arms around her shoulders, not knowing which of the men was hugging her and which was kneeling in front of her, gently taking her hands in his, massaging her palms. Someone was saying something, but it was too distant for her- the voice was muffled and words unrecognizable through the buzzing in his ears. The last thing she could remember was strong arms carrying her back into the safety of the Hold as she lost consciousness.
She woke up on one of the plain matresses they’ve found earlier, a cold and damp rag on her forehead. Adrain was lying behind her, his arm draped over her waist protectively, and by the way he was playing with her hair, he seemed to be awake.
„What were those things, Adrian?“ she asked softly, still too weak to move. He pressed a kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent. „Shriekers“ he said after a momet of silence, not really wanting to explain- it only would serve to upset her further, surely, and she needed her rest.
„Trevor will explain it later“ he promised „You now need to rest“ he said gently, but she refused to let it go.
„No, I need to know- and where is he? He should be here, he is not out there is he? It is dangerous, who knows what else is out there!“
„Shh“ there was no need for her to know that the Belmont was burning the corpses at that very moment „You are tired, my love. Just sleep“ when he caressed her cheek then, it was with more than just affection. Magic laced his touch, and the little witch in his arms fell asleep as she needed.

Chapter Text

When Alucard leaves Sypha’s side to find Trevor, he finds the man bathing, of all things. He is hunched over the tub, dunking in a rag and running it over his shirtless chest and arms, and he pays special attention to his hands, making a conscious effort to clean the impure blood from underneath his nails. He smells like smoke, the scent of fire clinging to his hair like morbid perfume, but there is little to be done about it at the moment.
„And to think I had to bathe you but a few hours ago“ the dhampir says lightly, to which Trevor merely grunts. He clearly is not up for a chat, but unfortunately for him, Adrian insists.
„Did you get upset as well? Want to get rid of the reminders?“ there is no accusation or mockery in his voice, he merely seeks to understand. After all, until a few hours prior, Trevor was carrying years of blood and gore on his skin, in his hair, on his clothes. Were the shriekers really so disturbing to him that he would break a habit that was probably more than a decade old?

„I don’t care for the bastards“ Trevor replies gruffly, tossing the rag back into the tub once he deems himself clean enough. He has no shirt to put back on, as he had slept without it and took no time to dress when he awoke to Adrian rushing to Sypha’s rescue. Alucard can be honest enough with himself to realize he doesn’t mind the sight one bit.
„I just didn’t want her to see me all bloody and with their guts all over me. She’s upset enough as it is“
„That is quite considerate coming from someone who hit her“ the words leave his lips before he can censor himself, and he knows better than to think he can somehow revoke them. So, he stays quiet as Trevor clenches his teeth, grabbing the edge of the tub with such ferocity that the dhampir is left wondering how he doesn’t break it- or fling it at him.
„I- fuck“ the last Belmont inhales deeply, clearly doing his best from lunging at the blond in front of him. He has no right to the anger, he tries to remind himself; he did hit her, he is not trustworthy no matter how much forgiveness she shows. Neither of them will ever forget- they shall remain as cautious as they ought to be around someone so- so... wrong. He was simply wrong.

„I will regret what I did for the rest of my life“ he finally says, fighting to keep his gaze on Adrian rather than look away like a coward. „I never meant to hit her, fuck, I never meant to hurt /you/. But I- I did. And I am sorry, and I know you haven’t forgiven me like she did and I /get it/. But- can’t you fucking at least not throw it at my face? With good fate we’ll get all this over with soon and you will never have to see me again. You two will be able to finally go riding into the sunset without a violent drunk at your heels. Just- leave me alone while I’m still here? You get nothing from telling me the way it is, I /already fucking know/“.
He looks so angry, but Adrian doesn’t believe the shown wrath. The man is hurt, plain and simple- he hurt him by a simple comment. But the verbal lashing wouldn’t have been effective hadn’t it been dipped in truth; Trevor’s own actions is what truly brought him turmoil. Adrian cannot take that away from him, no matter how much he wanted it. He bites into his lip, looking at the man’s retreating back. Where did such a train of thoughts come from? Since when did he want to help the crass man? He thinks back to the scene in the bathchamber, when he cleaned Trevor’s naked body while the man all but fell apart silently, the only testament to his pain being tears that he did not explain.

„Trevor, wait“ he calls out, and the hunter obeys, but doesn’t turn around. The muscles in his back are tense as he awaits for Adrian’s next words, and the dhampir doesn’t know how to choose them. What could he even say? Tell him that they didn’t have to part ways after they save all of Wallachia? He cannot possibly promise that. He has a life he wants to live with Sypha, and uncertain as the emotions Trevor’s awakens within him are, they are not at all stable enough to bear weight of the man being included in their lives like that. He himself didn’t know what he felt, and Sypha... she was his lover, not Trevor. One cannot have two, and he isn’t even sure if he’d want Trevor as one.
„I’m hungry“ he says instead, and it is not a lie. He could go on for a few more days, certainly, but his fangs are itching to bury themselves in flesh, and his throat craves something much thicker than water- and the phantom taste of Trevor’s blood is coating the back of his throat when he gazes upon the man’s neck. He is not surprised when Trevor turns around and makes his way to him silently; the man is ravaged by guilt, and Adrian supposes that he and Sypha were the first people in years to stick around him for more than a day. He is desperate to be accepted by them, it was plain and obvious ever since they started ignoring him. He’d give anything for them to keep him around, Adrian realizes as Trevor stands in front of him. Hadn’t he already given them food, hunting for them? He gave them a free range of his only family heirloom- he spilled his own blood fighting with them, he gave Adrian his own blood to drink and he was ready to do it again. It almost feels wrong to accept blood from a man who seems physically and mentally unable to refuse him, but the temptation is too high. Something in Adrian wants to have Trevor while he can, the prospect of the man leaving oh so very real- the other part, more primal and wild, views the hunter as a chosen prey, marked and stalked and /caught/.

He places one hand on the man’s waist, and his other hand sneaks into his freshly washed hair, tugging his head on the side. He can feel Trevor’s pulse quicken, and by the Heaven, he smellls so good now that he is washed. He inhales deeply over his neck, and then sinks his fangs in, his fingers digging into his skin and his hold on his hair tightening. Trevor moans, gripping onto Alucard’s biceps for stability. A reaction even lewder than the one he had on their first session, Adrian notices idly, most of his attention on the beautiful red he swallows. There is a slight tang of alcohol in the taste, just a little something to testify to the man’s slip up from earlier, but the taste is overwhelmingly sad. He groans, tears caused by Trevor’s pain stinging at his eyes. He drinks more, all but growling as he selfishly seeks out more of that inner agony, the pain that cripples Trevor every day of his life only serving as a sinful high to Adrian, who’s nature allows him to convert his prey’s emotions as a drug. Never before was he that high, though- Trevor must be the saddest person he ever fed on, he realizes when actual images and thoughts not of his own ravage his mind.
He will never make his dad proud. He will never see his sisters marry- he will never again hear his mom laugh. He will never be someone’s dad, he thinks, and then he sees what Trevor saw when he left him out there alone, dozens of disfigured babies melting and burning in a pile he personally dragged away from the Hold’s entrance, baby by baby, corpse by corpse...

He pulls away with a shout, or maybe a sob. There are tears running down his face, and he feels amazing with all the pain that he is in, but the catharsis leaves him utterly unable to care for the man in his arms that is a moaning mess, his knees having given out underneath him and his hold on Alucard shirt weakening but clingy all the same. He is looking up at the dhampir in adoration and /love/ and he is wordlessly begging to be held. The man just gave him his blood for the second time, given way more than he should have, and despite the lust between his legs all that he really is asking for is a hug.
Alucard doesn’t deliver. He slowly lowers the man on the floor, on his knees, where he keels over on his hands the moment Alucard no longer holds him. He is trying to say something, he is panting and struggling to find his breath, but dhampir doesn’t stay to hear it. Flushed with fresh blood and his strength renewed, he hastily retreats into the room they put Sypha in- and he closes the door behind him.
Back in the library, Trevor Belmont starts softly weeping.

Chapter Text

He would have locked the door behind him if he could. As it was, without a lock let alone a key, the dhampir can only lean against the old and dry wood, his heart beating in his chest as if trying to escape; but where? To the beauty in his bed, or the rugged man he left behind on his hands and knees? His heart was torn. Sypha didn’t deserve just a half of it. How could he even allow himself to doubt his devotion to her like that? They have only known each other for a little while, but he felt for that girl something he could only classify as love.
Guilt was not something Adrian was unfamiliar with. However, the things weighting down on his damned soul usually had more... flair to them. They were of greater proportions, worthy of noting down on paper with expensive ink and bounding them with leather. Never before did he feel such a ravaging guilt over something so mundane as a hug. That is all it was, truly- he denied Belmont a hug, physical contact when the man wanted it. Why did it bother him so much? So the hunter fed him, that was kind, yes, but also no more than a repayment of a debt he’d never be able to fully compensate for. It was not something he should be rewarded for, and besides, a man of his caliber ought be stronger than his base desires. Granted, Trevor did not have the best track record with that sort of thing....

He slipped into the bed, pulling her in his arms and allowing the magic that bound her to sleep to be watered down by the warm air around them.
Sypha stirred as she felt magic detangling itself from her breath. She had never before encounter that spell, but she could smell its purpose; a kind, dreamless sleep, deep and satisfying. A considerate spell, given her fright and horror when she had laid down upon the straw mattress and her lover tucked her into the animal skin. She without a doubt would have had nightmares; as if the waking world wasn’t horrifying enough. She could taste the one who cast the spell too, right on her tongue and in her throat. Adrian. She felt the matress sink underneath added weight, and opened her eyes just as he pulled her in his arms, holding her tight as if he worried she’d spill. She hugged him back, resting against his firm chest.

„I’m sorry“ she whispered, her hand resting on his shoulder while the other played with one of the golden buttons of his coat.
„I shouldn’t have run like that, I’ve put us all at risk. And then I just... I’m sorry, Adrian“
’I’m sorry’- What an irony. Sypha is not the one who should be saying it, and Adrian certainly isn’t the one who should be hearing it, but the Speaker in his arms still apologizes, curled up to his chest much like an upset kitten.
„Dear God, Sypha, you have nothing to be sorry for. You aimed to help a child out of danger and you were upset to find that grotesque instead. That is hardly something I can judge you for. Hardly something anyone could condemn you over“ it is a lie, and they both know it. A woman of such magic was going to be condemned for far less than meaning to save a young life. The very people she risked her life for were ready to tear her and hers to pieces, all the way back in Grešit, and most certainly in other places as well. It was a life of an outcast, no matter where she’d go.
And yet... where had she gone? Where did she travel the months, the years before he met her? Sypha is his lover, his silver lining in the horror around them, but he knew barely a thing about her.
„Were you born here?“
„You fed on Trevor again?“
They both spoke up at the same time, Sypha frowning slightly as she looked up to him.
„I did- oh“
„Yes, you’re all bloody. Is he okay?“
„Yes“ he said so smoothly, so effortlessly and without a delay, that even he believed it for a moment. Then he remembered the haunted, desperate look on his face, the pitiful grip on his bicep and the chocked sob that the Belmont let out when he closed the door behind him, followed by whimpers. He was alright. Physically.
„He’s fine“ he repeated, laying Sypha down and looming over her. She couldn’t decipher the look on his face, it being odd like a puzzle full of gaps and missing pieces.
„I just... he overwhelms me, Sypha. This is the second time it happened. His blood hurts“
„You can drink mine“
„I- that is what ails me. I do not want to stop drinking his. I want that pain. His pain.“ there it was; truth of his bloodlust to hide the lie of Belmont’s wellbeing. An important confession to cover up an irrelevant deceit.
„... I see“
„Does that disturb you? I’m sorry. I’ll go get cleaned up, I shouldn’t have barged upon you in this state“ he apologized quickly, licking his lips as he made a move to leave the bed. He still had Trevor on his lips, on his chin, the taste lingering on his teeth and throat. He swallowed thickly, realizing he had relaxed way too much. Sypha was not of his kind, and blood represented wounds and hurt to her, not delight and sustenance. He couldn’t treat it like that in front of her.

Except that she did not allow him to leave. She grabbed at his wrist, pulling him back onto the bed with very little effort. He could outpower her a thousand times physically, but of what use was strength of flesh when he was her ardent and eager slave? She wanted him on the bed, so on the bed he would lie.
“If you want him for your pain, will you have me as your pleasure?”
She kissed him, biting at his lips and licking the blood off. His hand tangled in her short locks as his other found its way on her waist, lowering her down onto the mattress to loom over her, just having her like that underneath him enough to arouse him, his manhood hardening as pulled him close, demanding his mouth on hers. She was so warm, the scent of soap and beginnings of fresh sweat intoxicating to his dhampir senses. When she raised her hips to rub against his own he all but growled, urging to toss away her robes. Before the blue fabric even hit the ground, his hand gripped at her breast, kissing her once again as he teased at the nipple, his hair framing their faces. Her breath hitched, a small moan drowned out by the kiss when he moved his hand downwards, touching her between her legs, applying pressure through the fabric of her pants. Her legs clasped together around his hand , and he smirked at the reaction, trailing kisses across her jawline and over her neck. His fangs grazed the soft flesh teasingly, but…

“Don’t bite me” she gasped, struggling to keep her voice tremor free, given her arousal “I just want to- don’t bite me” she wasn’t in the right mind to explain her reasoning, more since she herself didn’t quite care to think of it at the moment- she had different desires, taking hold of his hair by the scalp and tugging downwards weakly, a needy whine being all the command she could muster. Adrian, God bless him, understood perfectly, and with a one parting kiss on her neck, he was sliding down her body to unbutton her pants, pulling them down her long legs alongside her underwear. It was a fast progress, but the slick between her legs proved that she was more than ready; she was yearning, her legs now spread for him so sweetly. He inhaled her scent, one hand already working on unbuckling his belt.

When he entered her, it was heaven. When she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer, it was even better. And when she called out his name, to Adrian it was a siren’s call. To another, who had hoped to at least keep warm by Sypha’s fire, it sounded like a sword piercing flesh as he stood in front of the chamber door. Adrian never heard Trevor’s heart ache nor his breath deepen, because his ears were for Sypha’s moans only. By the time he released in her, neither cared to keep quiet, too lost in each other. After he finished her of by fingers and tongue, they fall asleep in each other’s arms, still half naked and slick.
“I love you” he told her moments before she’d doze off again, his voice deep with exhaustion and fondness both. He was glad to feel it truthful; no matter what he felt towards the Belmont, it didn’t negate his love for the Speaker. Thoughts of the hunter quickly disappeared, however, when she reciprocated his confession; she loved him too, and he believed her.

Chapter Text

He had hope. What a ridiculous, horrible thing for the like of him. Stupid, silly, dumb. He ran the synonyms in his head furiously as he stalked away from the door, furious not at the lovers inside, but at himself for allowing their love to hurt him so. What did he expect, truly? To share bed with them, to be kissed and touched? Loved? Adrian barely managed to feed on him, he was that much awful. So awful that he managed to deter a vampire that just fed. No wonder not even his own kind wanted him. No wonder Sypha only had eyes for the prince. Another sob wrenched its way out of his throat and he was glad he was already at the stairwell, away enough not to disturb the others.

He had to sit down, overwhelmed by the emotion. Strong feelings, bared of tired anger and sadness that go away with a pint or two, were not something he experienced often. How old was he, again? Twenty two, he remembered. That was time in life when men of Belmont family could already look behind themselves and see things done. But when Trevor turned around, there were no signs, no monuments... no memories. Wine, scraps and meaningless violence, that was all he saw behind him, not even remembering specific fights and tavern. Instead of a built road, it was a hole. Not a well or a hideout, but a grave. A grave he sat in while alive still.

It was as if once his family died, he went to sleep. A long, restless slumber with less than pleasant dreams. He slept for so long that he forgot how to be awake, how could he ever keep up with Sypha and Alucard, who both were so lively? Trevor was tired. He wanted nothing more but to lay again, but now, after having a taste of friendship, of purpose, he wanted it to be with them. Fucking bastards, ruining him so. They obviously didn’t care, and why should they? A runt of a once great house, no more than that, he didn’t deserve their consideration. A horrible drunk who hits girls, he should be punished. But why, why so cruelly? He’d rather have Adrian beat him to a pulp, he’d prefer that! But this... they were kind to him, they spoke to him, they bathed him... it hurt so much, knowing that they’d leave him once their goal was fulfilled. They would live, all golden hair and bright eyes, love and purity, while he’d be left alone... and he’d have to sleep again.

He ran his fingers through his clean, untangled hair, looked down at his hands, he breathed in deeply and felt no stink. He supposed that going back to the previous state will come easily enough. It sneaked upon him the first time, he perhaps won’t notice it the second time? He perhaps will die before it comes, he thought grimly, and laughed tearfully when he realized such a thought filled him with more hope. He threw his head back, trying to blink away the tears with no true avail. His gaze fell upon the great portrait of Leon Belmont, looking down on him despite his eyes being painted to look forward, not down.

How pathetic he was, crying his eyes out underneath Leon’s feet. He would probably be so disappointed. Maybe even angry, no, angry for sure. After all, Trevor should have fought back once his family was killed, by his age he should have married and continued the line and fought tooth and nail to reclaim what once was his father’s. He instead chose to drink and sleep. Yes, Leon and his father and the whole bloody line would shudder and spit if they ever saw him. But they won’t ever.

„You’re dead!“ he told the founder of his house „You’re dead, stop looking down at me. All your words and weapons and gold and what good does it do you? You’re still dead! The people you protected, dead! Everyone’s dead, dead, dead, I don’t care, you’re fucking dead!“ dead, just like his mom. His father, whom he never before heard scream. His sisters, and all of his brothers. His noble family gone yet he alive still, what a joke. What a waste. A cruel flick of fate... A cruel flick of a feather that a priest used to draw the order. A cruel tremor in the voice of whoever called for the mob. A cruel decision of humans who decided to raise pitchforks and stakes and torches and murder those of their own.

No wonder Dracula wanted to kill them all.

He woke up what could be hours or minutes later- his restlessness was no clue, he knew, for even slumber that’d last for hours rarely brought him satisfying rest. It was also impossible to tell time in the hold, so deep in the ground and cut away from any natural light or lack of it. He stood up, his legs asleep, and felt somehing slide off his shoulders. He snatched it before it hit the ground, finding in his hands a blanket. A thick wool one, warm. Sypha must have put it on him... kind of her not to wake him. But she was always kind, wasn’t she? He could at least thank her. Yes, he’d thank her, and forget all about his stupid fit he had when he heard them doing what lovers do. It was their right, it wasn’t meant for him, he wasn’t entitled to anything, and he at least owed them not to be distracted by his damaged wants when they needed him for battle.
It was a decent plan, but there was one crucial detail missing: he had no one to say thank you to. He searched the rooms, the nooks in the library, the smaller chambers, even the training areas. His people weren’t there. He bolted before he understood his actions, before he even allowed himself the time to ponder the implications. He only grabbed his whip and nothing else, storming up the stairs faster than he ever did.

„Adrian?! Sypha?!“ god, he was so loud it even hurt his own ears. „Where are you? Whe- I can catch up! Please“ he just did’t know where to run, in which direction could they have gone? He strained to try and remember if they were making any plans, but most of their conversations were hushed and private, held away from him and secretive. He had assumed it was because they just wanted him to feel excluded, it never occurred to him that they were planning to leave him behind. „You still need me for the prophecy!“ he cried out desperately, barely keeping himself from falling to his knees. They did need him, right? They both insisted on the damned prophecy! That was why they strung him along anyways! They- they couldn’t just leave him, not like this, he wasn’t prepared! „Adrian!“

„Stop shouting! Do you want to wake the dead?! Or the night horde to hear?!“ he was so relieved to hear her voice that he laughed even though she sounded angry. He turned around to see them emerge from the woods, Adrian carrying several hares while Sypha had a bag over her shoulder in which he could see herbs.
„You were hunting“ he said dumbly when they approached, both seeming irritated.
„What else could we be doing? Did you really think we ran off in the night?“ why not, you fucked in the night, an ugly part of Trevor replied, but he luckily didn’t voice the unfair message.
„It’s not important“ how good of a liar he was, it sounded almost like he wasn’t going insane but a few seconds earlier. He was so glad to see them that he didn’t care at all for the pain they caused, but it did not mean it hurt any less.
„Why both of you? Usually one of us hunts...“ he asked, wheels being too slow in his head. Sypha, all too quickly, took off her bag and showed it in his hands.
„Here, make yourself useful“ she said brightly, with a smile too happy for Trevor to believe it „Those are healing herbs, some will be good for your burn“ she explained, completely evading his question. And after a moment of thought, watching her descend into the hold, Trevor understood why. They still didn’t trust him to be alone with her.