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Chapter Text

Vampires sleep in the same way as they have since they died. It was their most vulnerable form after all. Unmoving, unaware and totally out of commission for the rest of the morning light. Of course this didn’t mean they had to sleep simply that when they do they return to what they were. What they were meant to be, if not for the machinations of enchantments, curses, the devil’s will or the desperate act of a loved one; they would be a corpse rotting in a grave. We haven’t quite figured out why vampires are but we are well aware they’re here. 

Often when they wake it is similar to bringing life to a person. When the air returns to the lungs like a nearly drowned man who gasps into consciousness or the shock of a defibrillator. Some wake with a jolt, a gasp as air floods back, others simply open their eyes used to the feeling of their soul and mind being dragged back into their cursed body.

Sâmua woke in that same way, for a moment he was nothing and the next he was frowning. What met his eyes was too confusing for him to entirely process immediately. The darkness was no problem for a vampire, he could plainly see what was before him he just didn’t know what to make of it. It was when he tried to move his arms that he realized what he was in. A part of his slow mind suspected but he stubbornly refused to believe it. He glared at the small space he was now encased in, felt the pillows underneath his head, the way his hands were oddly folded on his stomach. 

Gods he was in a coffin wasn’t he?

His first move was to of course blame the source of at least half his troubles.

“Hello?!” He called out, “is anyone out there?! Fuck-Robion! Robion Ymeri you RAT! If this is some fucking joke you better open this damn casket before I tear my way out! Robion! Robion?!”

The dead man tore at the cushions above him, saw the darker color of the wood and began to slam his fist upon it. As much as one could when in a coffin with barely any space.

Wood cracked and crumbled away underneath his assault.

“FUCK!” He yelled out as a splinter got into his eye. “Shit!” 

Giving up punching he ripped out the rest of the wood and stared incredulously at another layer locking him in.

“What in the fuck is this??” He muttered, grabbing at it, trying to make sense of what was keeping him in. What met him was something cold and smooth. Stone? 

For a brief moment he wondered if he was bricked under, buried in a wall of a castle and he began to lose his senses a little.

“What the FUCK?!! I swear to the fucking GODS-Robion if you did this I’m going to BEHEAD you, I’ll rip your intestines out and feed it to your stupid cats, I’m going to roast your flesh in the SUN and I’m going to let you watch as I throw all your stupid fucking coats to the street rats!”

Punching only barely cracked the stone, he might be able to get out but not without great effort and patience (which he didn’t have). It was hard to maneuver when he had so little space and the wood he had ripped off was uncomfortable and made his temper worse. He started shifting around, for some reason his clothes were tearing along in the process but he was too angry to pay much attention. Finally, in all his angry fussing, he spotted something odd just next to his head. It was extremely easy to see as it was right next to his eye. It was a switch embedded into the side of the casket, coffin, whatever he was in.

“What the hell is…” He flicked it and there was a deep groaning sound as he stared half scared and mind mostly blank as the casket slowly began to open. There wasn’t much light outside but he was incredibly glad to see a ceiling that was meters above him.

Sâmua had no patience and didn’t wait for the whole cover to get off, he gripped it and tried to shove it off but instead it came away in his hands as he sat up. He made a noise of surprise and dropped it. The stone crashed into the ground, breaking into pieces.

“Ah shit,” he cursed but came to the conclusion that he didn’t care for the state of the casket he was locked in just moments before. 

He was able to see that the sleeves he was wearing were basically hanging on a thread to the rest of his coat. In fact now that he could see most of his body he realized he wasn’t in his usual wear. It wasn’t bad, the color couldn’t be made out in this darkness but he could see the velvet cuffs, the lace of his shirt and feel the silk pants. High quality but most definitely NOT one of his own clothes. Which meant someone put it on him. Sâmua shuddered. He touched the sleeve and it detached from the rest of the coat, crumbling and crumpling in his hand like aged paper. 

“What the-” He twisted around inspecting his clothes and as he touched it it was as if the fabric couldn’t bear his touch and came away. He was left half naked and confused as he held bunches of lace, silk and cotton.

The vampire dropped the fabric, his bewilderment increasing by every second. He worried for the rest of him but his worries faded away when he took in the rest of the room. 

His undead heart stopped for a moment.

He was in a large hall of some kind, with marble pillars carved with figures of hooded people carrying goblets being spilled over into the mouths of the crowd at their feet; he was not in a coffin or a casket; it was more like a sarcophagus. Elevated from the rest of the ground with smooth half moon stairs leading up to him and in front of that there were rows and rows of wooden coffins. 

Every single one looked as if something had burst out open. Wood was broken in pieces, he could see mounds of soil trails here and there. There were probably a hundred of these coffins just lined up all neat and ominous. 

The scene made him go cold or perhaps it was his state of undress. He peered down out of his sarcophagus and was able to see some kind of mural of a battle before he spotted a flash of silver to his right and he moved out of instinct. He didn’t have a weapon so he settled for the next best thing.

A piece of the sarcophagus cover, it was basically a large chunk of rock at this point anyway, he threw that and jumped out (almost tripped) of the sarcophagus. 

The next movement was the whirl of the blade, a dark cape billowing and the faintest hint of a pale stone like face. The rock broke upon impact with the blade. Sâmua cursed, half irritated and half in disbelief. 

That stupid thing only cracked when he punched it but now it broke under some fucking sword. His attacker rushed him and Sâmua only had moments to dodge the attack, side stepping the sword and lunging forward to grab at their hands. 

It might’ve been effective as this move made his assailant freeze and try to tug control back; if Sâmua had not been so taken by his would-be murderer.

The man was unearthly beautiful. Sâmua, being someone already weak to men who were handsome, was incredibly distracted. The man before him was pale as stone, with dark waves for hair and even darker eyes. His lips were drawn tight almost like a pout and it would’ve been cute if Sâmua didn’t have to dodge another swipe to his neck. The last thing Sâmua needed was the most gorgeous man he’s ever set eyes on trying to kill him after he just broke out of a sarcophagus in a room filled with coffins looking like the basement of a cult.

He felt the blood drip down his neck as the blade had nicked his skin.

“Gods! What’s your problem?” He complained, as he was wont to do, touching the broken skin as he backed away dodging more of the attacks. The wound healed quickly but the smell of vampire blood still lingered and the color stained his fingertips. 

He was too afraid to meet the blade head on, after all that thing broke the stone he threw in a single strike. The last thing Sâmua wanted to do was fight with his fists against a long sword. 

If his opponent was normal he’d be able to get the better of them purely by strength of vampiric speed. Like his features however the man was far from normal. He was matching Sâmua’s speed as they darted about, Sâmua heard the high whistle of the blade in the air and knew that his strength would be no joke either. He noticed pointed ears in the mess of the hair when Sâmua grabbed chunks of splintered wood and threw it at him. Some kind of elf? Half elf? It was much too small for a regular elf. 

In retaliation the man threw several wooden needles at him.

“???” Sâmua managed to dodge most of them, another lodging itself on his left arm. The pain was minimal but the offense to himself was great. “Wooden stakes??? Are you fucking serious?” 

Then it struck him.

“Oh gods, you don’t happen to be a vampire hunter, are you?”

“I’m afraid so.” 

Sâmua sucked in a breath, he would tell himself it was because of his frustration with the situation but really it was because his voice also caught him off guard. 

Of course a man this beautiful had to have a voice as smooth as silk. 

He jumped back a bit further to give himself some time to speak.

“Look,” The hunter had no hesitation he rushed forward. This time however Sâmua met his blade, slapping his hands upon it and gripping it before it could pierce his chest. The blade cut through his skin as it shook underneath the strength of the two men, blood seeping through and dripping onto the floor.

“I have no quarrel with you, I haven’t done anything.” He hissed trying to be composed against the sting and fighting against the push of the hunter. Then he floundered mentally, “well nothing really illegal at least. Could you please stop trying to kill me?”

Something changed in the eyes of his hunter and Sâmua grabbed at the chance. To his surprise when he tried to shove the blade to the left it snapped in half instead. He winced, replacing a weapon was painful and he was attached to his own blade.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I didn’t think it would do that.” He floundered some more but the hunter was not as emotionally attached to his weapon as Sâmua assumed because he simply moved on to a dagger from his back. 

He dodged that too, stepping back and smacking away whatever bit of arm he could while trying to avoid the blade. 

“Could- you- just STOP! God fuck!” his frustration increased at every swipe and even more so at the kick delivered to his side. 

This only made Sâmua grab at the offending leg before it could retract and he slammed the hunter into the floor. Dust enveloped the air and there was a sound much like cracking. It was only after that he said, “ah shit-sorry, are you alright-” 

A whistle could be heard as Sâmua just dodged another wooden needle, he watched as blonde strands dropped onto the hunter’s dark clothes.

He dropped the man to touch his hair in alarm, hopping as the hunter tried to sweep his legs and he walked off in angry bewilderment.

“WHAT THE FUCK?? Can’t you just fucking talk?? OH my fucking GOds what did you do to my hair?” Sâmua inspected it and felt that only a few strands had suffered the damage then looked at the hunter with great dissatisfaction. 

He was a silly thing, worried about the state of his hair when he should be worried about the future state of his head.

Sâmua supposed something changed in the hunter as he no longer took a battle stance or charged at him. Simply standing and brushing off the dust and wood splinters off his arm. He was both grateful and trying to eye the man without making his admiration too obvious. 

However it was fruitless because his cheeks were coloring as he crossed his arms and then realized with great horror that his pants were going in the same state as his clothes from before. The left pant leg had a slit from the hem to his hip, the seam had given out somewhere in the fight and the right one was barely hanging on to his hips. The color on his face deepened as he looked around for something to cover himself with. Seeing nothing he would deal with the hunter for now. 

“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” Trying to get over his growing embarrassment Sâmua would bluff with indignation.

“You’re a noble.” Was the gracious reply given.

That statement confused him, “um no, not really. I mean, I did get knighted but sometimes people don’t even count that as becoming noble and besides I abandoned that post so it probably doesn’t count anymore.”

In the middle of his talk the hunter approached him and he stepped away with narrowed eyes and a heart wildly beating.

“W-what?”

They stared at each other for a few moments, they didn’t know what to make of the other. 

“Is this your castle?” The hunter finally spoke up, his face returned to hide underneath the shadows of his hat.

Sâmua scoffed, “why the hell would I own a castle, I just told you I’m an.. Ex-knight, currently a mercenary, formerly well…” He scratched the back of his head. “I used to be like you I guess.”

Another silence followed, Sâmua half reminiscing about the past and the hunter taking in the information. Bare as it was and delivered badly. 

“Were you hired to kill me?” The vampire asked quietly.

“I was hired to investigate this castle.”

“Oh then why the hell did you attack me out of nowhere?” Sâmua returned to complaining. “I was just waking up from… waking up from…”

What was he waking up from?

Not in a coffin that’s for sure.

He looked around the room with growing unease. His situation fully settled into his dead body. 

“I was… out, I wasn’t here,” he muttered to himself. “I don’t even sleep in a fucking coffin who does that? Where are my men?”

His thoughts were interrupted by the hunter who stepped close (successfully scattering his senses), “You don’t know why you’re here?” 

“Of course I don’t, why the hell would I want to put myself in this gods forsaken… mausoleum? Tomb? Did you say this place was a castle?” He asked leaning towards the hunter as he had a finger on his lips, his expression was of growing concern as his other hand settled on his hip.

The hunter responded by placing a hand upon his forehead and Sâmua froze, “have you partaken in human blood?”

Sâmua shakily responded with, “n-no? Never.”

He felt something moving against his skin, there was a pressure upon his head like something was getting sucked out. It was too unnerving and Sâmua slapped the Hunter’s hand away.

“Was that fucking magic? Did you just use magic on me? What the hell?!” He was agitatedly pacing as he accused the other. He thought in the midst of the yelling he heard a voice say ‘it’s true’ but it might’ve just been his mind. In his agitation however the rest of his pants fell away and he was just able to stop it from completely falling off.

He stayed still, lips in a thin line as he regarded this as the worst moment in his undead life.

The hunter seemed at ease as he silently offered his cloak to Sâmua, it was received with a quietly muttered thanks and he wrapped himself in it. The rest of his pants would drop and Sâmua felt his face turn redder and the expression of displeasure grew. 

His face was also turning red because without the cloak he was subject to see what the hunter actually wore. He pinched his nose bridge, trying to clear his thoughts but instead it burst out in, “what the hell are you wearing?”

The hunter looked down briefly and looked back with his stone-like expression as Sâmua felt that he was losing his mind more and more. 

The man was wearing something that he had never seen before. It was practically obscene. As if instead of clothes he had opted to be dipped in tar and have that cover his body. To be sure he was a treat for the eyes but it was driving Sâmua to lose more of his sanity which he already had a bad grip on. Besides that there was that stupid hat paired with a striped scarf and odd jewelry and an even odder belt.

“Is this some new elf fashion, what the hell is all this?” he waved his hand for emphasis.

“It’s a practical battle suit.”

“A battle suit?” Sâmua repeated with disbelief. “And how exactly is it supposed to protect you?? It’s probably thinner than your skin.”

“Mobility.”

“Ah, right, mobility.” Overcome with improper thoughts and not wanting to look at the hunter for he thought his heart might burst, Sâmua would cover his face with his hand, the other hand occupied with keeping the cloak around his shoulders. The only barrier for his crumbling pride. 

Unfortunately for him the hunter was still regarding him. Why was he eyeing him now? It was possible it was because he meant to point out Sâmua’s current state was unfit to judge his own clothes but Sâmua was insensible. His thoughts were a mess.

‘Don’t be stupid Sâmua, the man wasn’t eyeing you, he’s only looking at the state of you. Not everyone is as crazed and starved as you are. Calm down. He told himself this over and over again in the very few seconds the hunter took to take him in.

“So, um, my name is Sâmua Sarangaka.” He said as he wrapped himself up even more and nodded towards the hunter, prompting him to make an introduction.

“D.”

“What?”

“D,” he said, turning away but keeping his eye contact, “that’s my name.”

“Oh,” Sâmua laughed awkwardly, “Wait, that’s your name? It isn’t just a nickname or a fake one? It’s just D? or Dee as in D E E?”

“Just D.”

“Oh,” he wanted to ask what was going on with his parents but Sâmua decided not to. His own family history was not particularly easy to understand either. He cleared his throat and extended his arm, “well then, glad to meet you D. Despite the initial greeting.”

What happened next was a brief but awkward shake, Sâmua went for D’s arm but D went for his hand and in the end they had gripped each other’s wrist. Shook it once and Sâmua let go as if it burned. He was embarrassed and flustered. The other would continue to take no notice of it. Of all the things the man did (which was mostly standing there looking perfect) Sâmua was most familiar with his personality so far. The familiarity was almost comforting.

Guessing what kind of person D was he would talk on, “you-you said this place was a castle? Who owns this place? It wouldn’t happen to be Robion Ymeri would it? Cause if it was I’m going to KILL the bastard when I see him.”

But then again if Robion owned this castle he would have met D or he ran. Of course the rat would run when faced with a stronger opponent.

“No one knows who owns this castle, it’s too old for human memory.” 

Sâmua scoffed, “what does that mean?” 

But the meaning was not entirely lost on him. 

He looked about the room, the remnants of fabric upon the broken stone of the sarcophagus, the dust that caked the floor and his feet. He grimaced at that reminder. He looked down and peeked at his foot. It was black with grime.

“Fuck this place, it’s disgusting has no one ever gone down here?” 

It wasn’t meant to be answered but he didn’t expect D to suddenly kneel and take his foot. Sâmua yelped and hopped as a weak attempt to get away but he was more scared of revealing anything else besides his leg. 

“What the fuck are you doing? Ask first?!” He smacked the hat upon the man’s head. 

The hunter was inspecting his scars, or more specifically the bite on his calf.

“What was this?” 

Sâmua felt the hand holding his leg loosen its grip and he retrieved his use of it, stepping back, face still flushed. “Beast man, from my earlier days in the military. I didn’t have a leg guard and they bit through my boot.” 

A frown deepened on the hunter’s features.

D had never encountered something like this before. 

He at first thought Sâmua was the ghost coming out of the sarcophagus to haunt the village and the castle but he was able to draw blood. That led D to thinking he was another noble who had fallen asleep during the rebellions but he felt that wasn’t quite right. The scars on his legs, multiple ones, belied a human life which meant he wasn’t born a noble. He was made one, still he felt like there were missing pieces in the puzzle. 

Sâmua had no recollection of what this place is or why he was in it. Or more importantly who put him here, especially since he says he didn’t normally rest in a coffin. Odd for a vampire.

D would answer for the mysteries of the vampire before him later.

He had gleaned that Sâmua didn’t drink human blood which meant he could be trusted. If he’s lasted this long he might have been serving one of the few noble bloodlines who followed the Sacred Ancestor. 

He turned his back to Sâmua and inspected the room, approaching the sarcophagus as Sâmua started to restlessly inspect the place as well. Looking over the coffins and muttering to himself, he complained of the dirt and the mess. 

“When you got here was it all like this?” 

D crouched to trace a hand over the carvings of his companion’s tomb. There were no writings to take information but still D took out the sphere from his utility belt and had it scan the stone. The sarcophagus was decorated with flowers, a scene depicting some kind of battle with an arrow piercing the shoulder of a kneeling soldier. The sphere didn’t reply with anything useful, only more images of medieval romantic paintings, marble statues and wooden carvings. When he moved to stand a bit of the stone that Sâmua had broken rolled off and he looked down. There was something odd about the shape of the stone.

D bent down again and picked up one of the larger pieces. One side was smooth and the other had two hands gripping the hilt of a sword. D set it down and picked up another stone, he was more successful, this time it was the forehead along with some hair. After piecing what wasn’t broken from their fight earlier D was facing what he was sure was the marble picture of Sâmua. 

He looked back at the figure that was looking sorrowfully at a pile of bones. 

It was definitely the same man. 

It was eerily similar. The same high nose, the jaw, the chin, the lips, even the long tresses were carefully carved and the lashes had been broken off but he knew it had been there. The cover of this sarcophagus was a perfect stone carving of Sâmua in full armor with his sword upon his chest. Much like a buried king or prince. 

The vampire hadn’t simply been put in there, there was a greater reason. D knew Sâmua hadn’t been lying to him but yet there was something wrong with everything. It didn’t add up.

“You were the only one I found so far.” And he was most likely the only person he could ever find in this place. 

Sâmua muttered something about ‘finally answers’ before saying in a louder tone, “so, what’s all this?” He waved at the scene before him as D descended the steps.

“The village says a long time ago, before the rebellions even started their ancestors had stormed this castle in the morning. Inside where the daylight couldn’t reach them, they were met by a horde of pseudo-vampires.” 

“Pseudo-vampires? What’s that?” Sâmua asked, pulling the black fabric against him tighter. 

He didn’t even know what pseudo-vampires were? 

“Vampires who weren’t fully turned into a noble. They can walk in the day, they can sustain themselves with blood alone, they’re prone to madness and like to avoid sunlight but they’ll never have the strength or the invincibility of a real noble.”

Sâmua had an odd expression upon his face and in an even stranger tone he asked, “how are those people turned?”

“They are bitten.”

“Ah right, well what’s the difference with a regular bite and being turned.”

“The blood of the noble.”

Another strange look came upon his face. 

“I see, I never really thought of that. I wasn’t exactly briefed on how to turn people. Anyway, wonderful knowledge that I will do nothing with. I will endeavor to forget it.” He sharply turned away and began to rifle among some odd things.

Then his voice came out broken, “you-you wouldn’t have happened to see anything with an owl on it did you? Just like a belt with an owl engraved or a brooch?”

“No.”

“How about corpses? Corpses with clothes like dark ones with silver inlets and a-a white band upon the neck?” Sâmua was hunched over as he pulled out a skull. And threw it away after shuddering.

“No, most of the corpses here have dried out. The human ones are all bones and dust now, I recall none with such accessories.”

“Hah, how odd, maybe that’s a good thing.” He stood up, was still for a while before patting his hands furiously back still turned, “gods this place is filthy. I don’t suppose you have any extra clothes do you?”

“No.” He did they were on his horse outside the castle. This particular castle took so long to get into D wouldn’t bother doing a detour to just get clothes.

A short but distinct scoff echoed in the room. D knew it didn’t come from Sâmua, he clenched his fist.

Sâmua turned to look at D, “did you just-?”

D remained impassive.

Sâmua gave him a sideways glance as a fair hand held on to the fabric, keeping the rest of him and his scars out of sight. But D had remembered all the ones on his upper body. He remembered the exact spot of a scar by his left shoulder. The same place depicted in the stone mural.

“This castle is odd, it is not like the ones nobles usually design.”

“Obviously, it’s got a fucking crypt with ME in it and about a hundred coffins that used to have half vampires in them. And look at those pillars, it's ghastly. I don’t know what they were doing here and-you know what it’s much better to not know. I’m not even going to think about it.”

“I haven’t finished investigating the castle yet, there are still more places to cover.”

He was here to exorcise a vampire ghost not help a vampire get his bearings. Though D would still like his questions to be answered they were not essential to what he needed to be doing. D turned away and started to go towards the exit.

“Hey! Don’t just leave!” Sâmua protested following after him and catching up with a pout on his pretty face. “Are you sure you don’t have any extra clothes?”

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

(Samua holding his bleeding neck with D holding his sword his back turned to the viewer)

Also D is apparently so good at using his blade that he can just have it not be stained with blood at all and he's not attached to his sword as much as he is to the horses that die a lot because he just buys extras in some shop in a later book. I'm going to add all the gizmos I thought were cool in the books

extra doodles of Samua and D, Samua is wearing something based on renaissance clothes specifically paintings of King Henry but he wears totally different colors instead of bold he prefers a softer palette 

D doodles i posted in tumblr but I wanted to put here too just a lil scrunkly guy

(If the images aren't loading you can go over here: https://www.tumblr.com/randomshenaniganery/775294856358658048/art-i-made-for-a-vhd-fic-sksksksk?source=share)

Chapter Text

Stepping out of the great hall filled with coffins, his former resting place, and ominous pillars, Sâmua was greeted by more dust and dirt. The Hunter, D, walked with barely any presence; his footsteps were light and near impossible to track even with the thick dust that coated the ground and his feet. 

“I suppose that joke about elves walking on snow was not so unfounded after all,” he would say as they walked through the corridor. The hunter’s reaction was the slightest movement of the head but no word came from his lips and he would continue to walk onward. Sâmua didn’t let that bother him, he was busy regarding the walls, they were barren stone bricks equally covered in dust and cobwebs. 

Normally dirt, dust, and grime wouldn’t bother him on a job but Sâmua was barely clothed and thus it did grate upon his mind terribly. It’s all fine to trudge through the mud in boots, it was another thing to go about it barefoot. He was glad that despite the abandoned state of the place it wasn’t moist, although strange, the place was fortunately dry and cool. Odd features for an abandoned castle but not that someone like Sâmua would dwell upon it.

For the third time he’d look at the black of his feet and say, “don’t you at least have a pair of boots?”

“Not here.” 

“I mean seriously what kind of travelling hunter doesn’t have spares? Are you just going to go on in tatters and muck? Especially in your clothes…” He shook his head violently and matched D’s pace to walk beside him, “what the hell are you going to do if you get roughed up anyway? I get you probably heal quickly but your clothes most certainly don’t and I don’t see any stitches or how one would stitch that… thing.”

D gave him a glance, he had no particular expression but Sâmua could tell he was looking at him oddly. 

He crossed his arms defensively cheeks coloring, “What? I’m not wrong, you’re the one dressed oddly like some exhibitionist or whatever. That thing looks about as useful as going out nake-”

“Hah-” a voice echoed through the corridor. D’s lips were unmoving and Sâmua jolted looking around for the source of the sound. It was close for sure but the place was empty save for their godforsaken souls.

“What was that?” He said turning around the peer suspiciously in the dark, his face paling a little. 

When he looked back at D, the man had gone stock still save for his arm which shook at the strength he had his hand curled into a fist. Sâmua gave him another odd look as he arranged the cloak around him tighter. He couldn’t quite understand the expression on the hunter’s face at that moment, like he was restraining himself.

“Alright don’t look so angry, I’ll shut up about your questionable fashion choices. It’s really not that serious, no need to get so wound up about it.” He grumbled and walked on ahead. “But seriously though, what was that sound? You did hear it right?”

He expected more silence but D graced him with an answer.

“I was paid to investigate a vampire haunting. Maybe it’s the remnants of a ghost.” There was even a shrug at the end of the sentence.

“Well, I won’t be any good against a ghost, can’t really fight what you can’t punch. Are you a holy man as well as a hunter?”

“My blade was blessed to fight ghosts.”

He winced, the broken one, that they left behind. 

“Oh my bad,” he said about scratching his head but then remembered he was wearing nothing but a long bit of cloth and refrained from doing so. “So, what’s your plan on exorcising the ghost if you’re not getting the sword back?”

“I have other ways.”

Sâmua had invited himself to whatever hunt D was on, he had nothing else to do and he’d rather go along with a ghost hunt than roam around an abandoned castle by himself. It took Sâmua more prying and needling to get information from D. That they were in the lower rungs of the castle. The walls were too smooth and too steep for him to scale and D had spotted a servants entryway hidden by the ground outside leading him to the basement.

“A familiar staple of noble castles is labyrinths,” He put a hand against the wall. “We should be just by the edges of it.”

“Familiar staple? Labyrinth? What fucking psycho made the place?” Sâmua gave a groan of disgust, “if this castle is such how did you even find me?”

There was a pause, “I heard you shouting.”

Instantly he was provoked, “and yet you still decided to go for my head first?!” 

D did not deign to give him a reply overtaking him and leaving Sâmua to angrily catch up with a scowl gracing his features. 

He was just about to complain some more when they came across a door by the wall. D was just about to walk past it but Sâmua grabbed his arm, only mildly panicking about the feel of the cloth that was his ‘battle suit’.

“Don’t just walk past it, there’s finally a door.”

“There’s no one there.”

“How would you know that? Did you go past here?”

“No.”

“Then don’t act so sure this might be the way out.” 

The vampire pushed the door open and was met with damp rank air. He made a noise grimacing at the smell but took in the scene. It was a small room with beds lined up against the wall, the beds were blackened with mold and grime, the wood was rotting, no windows (they were probably still underground), the ceiling was a bed of webs, not a single sign of life or another way out.

“Huh,” Sâmua said incredulously, “why’s there a sleeping quarters this isolated?”

“Perhaps it isn’t sleeping quarters.”

He was just about to give him sass before D responded, “we’re in a vampire’s castle. The bolt to this door is only on the outside.” 

Sâmua looked down at the handle he held and let it go with a grim expression. 

“Right, awful place.” With that he stalked away back on their original path. He heard the door close and D returning to his side. “Must be a common sight for you then?”

“Somewhat.”

“I don’t know about all this castle stuff you keep talking about but Vampire dens I came across tended to be crypts, tombs, mausoleums. If they were a new bunch maybe a house or a basement but I can’t imagine… An entire castle just for vampires.”

Sâmua felt the man give him a glance but he paid it no mind, he was sure they both thought the other was strange and made little sense. 

“You haven’t been in a noble’s castle before?”

“What? Of course I have, I just told you I was knighted. It's hard to be part of the military if I’ve never set foot in the castle.”

This time they exchanged strange looks. Perplexed at how the other could misunderstand them so hugely. 

“A vampire’s castle then?” D supplied helpfully.

“Well no, what idiot would announce their castle and be a vampire? If I was in one they never told me. Robion never owned a castle thank heaven but he did have a mansion, there was none of these dungeons, crypts and labyrinth nonsense you speak of.” 

D was starting to catch on with what exactly was wrong with Sâmua. Firstly he didn’t recognize Vampires and Nobles to be the same thing. Secondly he seemed to be completely unaware of Vampire habits or at least of the ones D was familiar with. Thirdly, Sâmua mentioned heaven, something vampires definitely did not do. Something they even avoided. It was part of erasing all traces of vampire weaknesses. He had mentioned ‘gods’ before which made D think he was just generally pagan or was one of those vampires who had a different religion but heaven was a different thing.

Then again if he said gods before why was he bothering saying heaven now?

After the finding of that room Sâmua had left D to lead the way, though sometimes he’d still furrow his brow disapprovingly when D would ignore a door or go down a path without hardly looking down it and so on. His senses however would prove true as they finally came round to a set of stairs winding upwards. 

“Oh finally, thank gods,” he said, trying to peer up without stepping on it. As if he was wary of what would happen if he preemptively went up.

D took the chance to step forward and ask, “are you religious?”

“Hm? Oh not very, sorry. The other men just say it so much I started picking it up. I used to say Oh God! and Christ! as well but when I did that they’d scold me so I gave it up after a while.”

He couldn’t help it when he sharply turned round to stare at Sâmua. 

“What? You look like I caught on fire, don’t tell me you take offense to that too.” He pouted.

“No, people just… don’t say that anymore.” D continued his ascent. 

He might’ve expected him to catch fire. If only just a little, or at least have some adverse reaction to the name. Maybe Sâmua had his memories wiped, no recollection of noble history.

D was formulating thoughts and what next to ask Sâmua when Sâmua beat him to it. The man had less shame and generally was more ready to talk. Unlike D he didn’t have to prepare words, think about what he wanted to say and prepare himself for speech. Whatever popped in the vampire’s head would come out as he pleased.

“How long have you been a hunter?” 

“A very long time.”

The blonde made a face of displeasure at his answer but it was as true as he could be, D had tried not to count the years. 

“And yourself? How long have you been a vampire?” 

They reached the end of the stair case, it opened up to a larger room, with a domed brick ceiling, some withered tapestries on the walls and crumpled dummies where he assumed armor used to sit before it got ransacked. He stepped out and felt the stale air be disturbed by their presence. More emptiness, there had not been a single sign of life besides Sâmua since his arrival.

“Hmm, probably around 4 years now.” 

There was another sharp look thrown Sâmua’s way but the vampire didn’t notice it as he regarded the room with a critical eye. 

“Rather odd place for a staircase to be. Right in the middle of a hall.”

“How old are you?” 

Sâmua did not deem it to be of any importance as he walked over to a toppled dummy beside a stone pillar, “Thirty-eight, oh look there is a sword over here-damn it all, it’s blunt!”

There was no possible way that Sâmua was a thirty-eight year old vampire. No damn vampire lower than the age of ten thousand years could hold long against an assault from D. But he didn’t sound like he was lying, still D knew little of Sâmua to be too sure and from all the mixed information he was getting he was starting to have doubts. 

D approached the vampire and held his shoulder, “hold still for a moment.”

“What?” But the vampire saw D raise his hand and instantly hissed, “absolutely not! You’re not using magic on me again-get your hand away from me, it felt disgusting.”

He smacked D’s hand away and wriggled out of his grasp but D was able to stop his progress by holding on to the cloak. When faced with the option of being naked Sâmua had to cease his escape and they were at a stand still. Him holding on to the bit of cloak in his hand and Sâmua leaning his head away while trying to keep the cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

“I need to check something,” D insisted, tugging him closer. 

The vampire’s face brightened in color, “What for? I haven’t told any lies and I’m not having you worming through my brain.”

D was not in the habit of coaxing people to do things, normally it was as simple as just setting his hand upon them or detailed explanations of how he’s right and they’re going to get themselves killed if they didn’t listen.

It was different now of course, Sâmua matched his strength, was more indignant about the whole thing and D wasn’t sure how much he could justify it to the vampire. The other way D got around to doing things was simply standing there and letting his looks do the work but Sâmua’s reaction to that was to protest. 

Which was what he was doing now.

“I know you haven’t lied,” D said patiently, still tugging Sâmua closer, “however there’s something wrong with what you said, you might not be aware of it.”

Sâmua ceased squirming but the frown still remained, “what are you on about?”

“You are definitely not thirty-eight.” 

“What the fuck-” The struggling resumed with even more vigor.

“Think about it,” he hissed with a final tug at Sâmua, forcing him to meet eyes. “You’ve been asleep long enough for dust to cake the walls and halls of this place. Do you really think that it takes anything less than decades for something like that to build up?”

The vampire looked apprehensive but D could clearly see he was giving way to the thought. Unease was clear on his features as he took it in. Now was the right time.

“I only need to see if someone has altered or erased any of your memories. It won’t be more than a few seconds.” Largely.

Sâmua relented with a hesitant nod, then with a small voice said, “can you let go of me now.”

D had relinquished hold over the cloak to grab at his shoulders and Sâmua leaned backwards doing his best to put space between them. In the end his hair was nearly brushing the floor as D was all up in his space which was really messing with his ability to think clearly. The hunter straightened both of them up, helping Sâmua to rights as he stepped back. The vampire fussed over the arrangement of the cloak before begrudgingly facing the hunter again. 

“Well, get it over with,” he said with all the false confidence he could muster.

The hunter only nodded and put his left hand upon his head again. The sucking sensation returned and Sâmua grimaced. He wasn’t sure if he should be looking at D’s eyes or to close it, both would make him insensible. Instead he took to glaring to the side and was glad that D didn’t ask him to make eye contact. He couldn’t bear it at this distance.

“What is the last thing you remember?” D asked.

“I-” the feeling of something squirming against his forehead returned. Sâmua gripped D’s wrist as the sensation increased along with his memory. “That feels disgusting-I… I was out! We were just getting back from another job, it was morning. I was tired so I took a nap. That’s it!”

The two struggled, D to keep his hand on Sâmua and Sâmua who was fighting against the squirming, the sucking and the way his brain ached at the onslaught of memories and words coming out of him. 

“You can walk in the sun?”

“No!” He said through gritted teeth, his expression turning from distress to frustration, “I had armor. It’s fitted with cloth to keep my skin from burning.” 

Sâmua continued to resist physically at least, he wasn’t doing so well against the magic mentally.

D pressed on, “what’s the year? The year you last remember?”

“Fuck! 14-1490!” 

That seemed to be the limit of what Sâmua could bear before he could shove D’s hand off. He started cursing in a language D wasn’t familiar with.

“Do you know how that fucking feels? It’s like a leech sucking on my fucking forehead,” He started pacing angrily again, touching his head as if he’d be able to feel indents of teeth upon the skin. There was nothing of course. Only the faint buzz of remnants of whatever magic D had used on him. There were more expletives D wasn’t privy to that followed.

On the other hand D was having to contend with what he was given. 

“Huoranpenikka…” Sâmua muttered in one final rubbing of his forehead. The vampire finally looked upon D who was standing there almost in a trance. He snapped his fingers, “What? Did that spell fuck your brains out? Hello?”

D gently moved Sâmua’s hand aside.

“Did you get what you wanted? Did you see anything?” 

“I don’t see anything. It just… It just helps people tell the truth.”

Sâmua’s nose crinkled up, “I told you I wasn’t lying.”

“I also said it might help if someone has altered your memories.”

“Well?” He waved his arms and then remembered what he wore and hugged himself yet again.

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“What a waste,” he muttered, still angry and flustered over the whole thing. 

Not quite of course, but Sâmua wasn’t just going to admit that after embarrassing himself. 

D moved past Sâmua, who dodged instinctively, and picked up the sword the vampire had discarded as useless. 

“What are you going to do with that? Are you going to try and sharpen it?”

“I can bless it.”

“You said you weren’t a holy man.”

“It’s only a rudimentary charm.”

D made the sign of the cross and muttered a few words. Sâmua looked at him then at the sword and back again.

“Is that it?” 

The hunter merely looked at him in response.

“And that’s going to kill a ghost?” 

“Repel hopefully.” He poked the sword at Sâmua who did not seem impressed by his antics. The vampire went so far as to gently move the sword away from him.

“Hopefully.” Sâmua repeated without much hope.

D however was able to confirm, holy things were not effective on the vampire, which blasted all his previous assumptions into the wind. Even the slightest mark of the cross could repel a vampire for a few moments but Sâmua was not deterred in any way. It wasn’t even an inconvenience to him. He couldn’t be a pseudo-vampire either if he was affected by the sun. What the hell was he?

He could mull it over now though as he moved his attention back to the room and to the large doors that kept them in. It was concealed by one of the withering tapestries, making the room look as if it was an empty box with no other way out besides the stairs. He made his way to the doors, able to make out the metal and wooden gears peaking from behind the frayed embroidery. A keen eye swept over the image and D was able to tell it was a medieval romantic mural even in its withered state.

A unicorn bleeding from an arrow struck into its heart while a maiden with a ring of gold upon her head sat in front of it.

There was something familiar about it, themes and what not. He couldn’t help but remember the mural on the sarcophagus. If there was a larger reason why a vampire unaffected by the holy with no memories of history was kept in an abandoned castle.

“Where are you going?” Sâmua’s voice would disrupt his thoughts. 

“There’s a door behind this tapestry. The villagers spoke of it.” 

Together they ripped the thing in a mere tug. It could hardly withstand the strength of a dhampir and a vampire of unknown age and origin. As the tapestry came apart at the seams what was revealed was a large mechanism. Giant gears rusted over and into each other, metal rods and springs that had long stiffened into place. Knuts the size of pumpkins and roughened metal panels that look as if it was bleeding over.

“No wonder they couldn’t get through.” D said already looking for some kind of device as he held his pendant in his hand. 

“What the hell is all this?” Was Sâmua’s reaction as he craned his neck to look at the monstrosity being introduced as a door. “That’s like fifty meters high.”

“Ten and a half meters.” D corrected him, still looking for a control panel of some kind. The doors weren’t reacting to the pendant which meant they were not automated or they didn’t use a bit of electricity at all. 

That was going to be a problem. 

“Why are you holding out your necklace like that? Is that also magic?”

To distract the vampire he quickly said, “this door operates manually.” 

Sâmua gave him a look as if that was obvious and as if he had not overestimated the height of the doors by thirty-five meters.

“The problem is that, whatever opens this is on the other side.”

The vampire’s face fell, “oh goody, so… what now?”

“The controls are on the other side, however the entire mechanism is on this side.” D could tell Sâmua’s furrowed brow meant more questioning. “Everything we need to move the doors is on this side. We don’t have the trigger but… we can probably brute force it.”

They started up at the iron giant before them.

“Are you sure…?” Sâmua’s voice wavered as he took in the scene but with a new idea. The idea of both of them trying to even slightly nudge any of those gears into movement. It would be hellish. 

“We don’t need to get the gears moving. There’s only a few pieces that keep the door closed. Get rid of that and we should be good.”

“You say that as if we can move, possibly tons of metal.” He no longer wanted to bother trying to estimate numbers but wanted to impress upon his companion the weight of the issue.

D however was quite confident as he put his hat down.

“We can.”

Chapter Text

Still haven't decided if they should get together or not I just want to play around with them like barbie dolls 

Also my favorite part of Vampire Hunter D: Accursed Bride (Book 1)

no one will change my mind that D is a bit of an ass and an idiot

Although when I reread the scene he did put his hands on her shoulders that still doesn't change the fact he went off to stare into the distance while she's sobbing most comforting person ever 10/10 I would hate to be Doris Lang

Samua Drawing I've been working on for like a week God doesn't want me to be straight in anyway possible which extends to drawing lines

Chapter Text

There were great protests from the vampire before they could actually start trying to open the door. The protests were met with meaningful obstinate silence and staring until one or the other relented. For Sâmua it was like arguing with a wall that was full of itself and for D it was having to deal with a tantrum of a rather large and powerful child. 

The wall and the child however were able to meet in the middle, D reluctantly let him borrow his utility belt to keep the cape in place as Sâmua would scale the metal workings of the mechanism. 

D took the left and Sâmua took the right side, whatever they couldn’t move out of place they broke with their bare hands or bent out of the way.

Sâmua was rather surprised at his strength when he had kicked the metal away in order to make space for the great bar holding the lock in place to slide away. He had doubted D, or more accurately, he doubted D’s estimation of his abilities. When he applied pressure it could bend and contort out of the way and all he could feel was the slight discomfort of the edge of the metal, the rough surface of the rust, the smell and the coolness of it. It folded like a sheet of tin underneath his touch and he wasn’t sure to be pleased or be terrified at the display. Sâmua had not much time to ruminate on his new found power however and continued on. He dutifully did as he was instructed and would sometimes have to observe as D did things on his end. NOT because he was particularly interested in the scene, both of them had to awkwardly contort their bodies in order to get proper grips of things. They wouldn’t hurt from a fall this high (at least according to D) but it would be a pain to have to climb up again. At some point he couldn’t get enough purchase to put the right strength so he had to punch a dent into the metal and used that so he could push the bar all the way to D’s side, who would receive it and nudge it all the way out.

Both of them watched as the bar creaked and groaned before falling with a great crash below. It had broken the marble floor and rolled into the door, shaking it for a moment as Sâmua fearfully held on as everything quaked and dust showered the floor. When the metal stopped echoing and vibrating from the force the two continued their work.

At the end of it there were three great bars dangerously piled upon each other and the two hopped off their perches on the rusted gears back to the cold floor. Sâmua was smoothing down his hair and patting away the rust and dirt from his hands with a grimace while D simply righted his hat upon his head.

“My belt,” D said as soon as they were side by side again, his hand outstretched.

Sâmua made a face, “impatient, you’ll get it don’t worry just let me put myself to rights.”

After adjusting the cape he relinquished the belt, mourning the loss of the security that something could stop the cape from falling off without him having to hold it together. Sâmua did have a change of mind, previously he had been holding the cape around his shoulders and skulking about like a suspicious peddler in the night, now he just tied the cape off around his waist and let it trail on the ground. He was less ashamed of his torso than everything else below.

“What’s in there anyway? Got an awful lot of pockets for a belt.”

“Stakes, salt, garlic powder, silver needles, wooden needles-” D began listing off as he put it back on. A complicated process that somehow involved another strap to his thigh.

The vampire waved him off, “right, right, all the necessities of a vampire hunter. Let’s get on with it.”

The two pushed open one door (there was no need to open both) and entered an entirely different place.

The floor was carpeted, it was the first thing Sâmua noticed as he stepped through, the walls were decorated with wallpaper that had even in this darkness a slight glimmer to it, pillars had vines and flowers carved to twine around them and finished with corbels decorated with the face of the sun and clouds. The ceiling was a romantic painting of the night sky, Sâmua’s artistic abilities could only just recognize a few constellations and if he was being totally honest, he recognized them purely because of the drawing next to it. The hunter with the bow was Orion next to that collection of stars, there was a mermaid and a centaur but that was the limits of his knowledge. The rest was a beautiful confusion of images that had no meaning to him but were vaguely familiar. 

While Sâmua was craning his neck to observe he had bumped into a small console table along the wall. He just managed to stop the vase from tipping over but couldn’t stop the withered flowers it had been holding to crumble to pieces. There were various vases and jars filled with black twisted dried up plants or were simply empty devoid of the life they once held. 

“Well, I guess this is the better part of the castle,” Sâmua muttered as he ran a hand against the wall, feeling the paper crisp against his finger tips. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

It was a rather gross example of luxury to Sâmua, he remembered small rooms with paper stuck to the walls with art painted upon it. At the time they were less entertaining than the vibrant embroidered tapestries of battles, saints and so on. This was different, there was a metal shine to the flowers, a depth of color he couldn’t make out in the darkness and he suspected if there was light it might’ve been gold.

D merely put a hand to the wall, there was a slight shift in his features and Sâmua fancied he was displeased. When he tilted his head and raised a brow D would only say, “no defense systems.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

D looked away and began to regard the two doors opposite to them, “I don’t know.”

Of course before Sâmua could grill him any further D would slither away from the question by walking determinedly to the door by the left. Sâmua would follow with a sour look upon his face but the look would soon vanish, replaced by curiosity. 

He was not familiar with the style of the castle, the room they were held up in with the great mechanical doors was familiar. Marble floors, stone walls, tapestries and dummies meant to be decorated with cloth or armor. The hall they entered was still alien to him, the style of the tables were not familiar, the carpet was not familiar, the walls were not familiar. He felt more and more queasy as they went on. It was beautiful but it was strange and new. The rooms before were rotten but not alien. Even the damn crypt he was entombed in was more known to him than the place they walked in now.

Time really has changed.

His musings made him walk right into D, his nose hitting the back of his head rather abruptly and Sâmua didn’t even get the chance to complain when D raised a hand and pointed.

They had entered a new hall, the portraits of landscapes in oil were gone. 

It was a perfectly symmetrical hall lined with doors, each door had a hook by its right side and a large portrait on the left. It ended far off with large ornate double doors framed by two live plants. The portraits closest to them were of two women posed in the exact same way, they would have a hand draped upon a pedestal with a bouquet in a vase and their other hand laid elegantly upon their wrist. There were some differences. The woman on the left wore a silk gown with her chin slightly raised and a calm expression while the woman on the right wore something dark, a richer fabric like velvet and a gentle smile graced her face. Her eyes gazed into the viewer as if she was smiling lovingly at them. Their hair and clothes puzzled Sâmua.

Both were in ringlets, down upon one shoulder that was exposed, flowers upon their hair and ribbons on their chest. 

He was half pondering that a portrait like this would send his former social groups into riotous scandal. While Sâmua stared at the portraits with mild horror as he was taken aback by what D considered to be perfectly fine portraits of two women in somewhat antiquated styles of fashion, D was already marching forward.

Sâmua had to hold his arm back and point, “is that what women are wearing nowadays?”

“No, only those who are closely tied to nobi- to vampires.”

“Whatever for? What the hell does that mean? Why wouldn’t others wear these clothes unless they’re close to a vampire? Don’t tell me they’ve put up those stupid laws on fashion again. I hated those.”

D gently removed Sâmua’s hand from his arm, resigning himself to educate his companion and catch him up on the goings on of the world now.

“Vampires tend to dress the era they were turned, whichever place they rule over tend to look and mimic that time period. They like to wrap themselves in what they remember before they took over. I believe these two are late Victorian but the style of this hall and the lounge room are mostly Baroque, mostly.”

Sâmua didn’t recognize those words and decided to throw it over his head. He never was the type to go on about different styles or whatever nonsense some people were about.

The vampire looked at the portrait critically, a half naked man scrutinizing the portraits of two perfectly fine women in perfectly fine dress. He was never one to go totally against fashion; there was nothing wrong with wanting to look good. After coming to the conclusion that his initial reaction to the portraits was mostly just his senses objecting to foreign fashions he could see that it was good clothes that complimented the women well. Sâmua spun on his heel ready to take in more of what he believed to be the future.

“Are there any portraits of men? I refuse to believe what you’re wearing is normal, I want to see what people wear nowadays I won’t be seen wearing something odd.”

D only gazed at his cloak being used as a skirt as it trailed like a river of black ink against the carpeted floor. 

However as they walked on they came to a realization. All the portraits were of women, all posed in the exact same way. The same vase, the same pedestal but different women with different flowers. Names engraved on the metal plate upon their elegant doors that were carved delicately with the corresponding flower in their painting.

“Is this hall the ladies’ quarters?” Sâmua said, a little uneasily. 

There was no point replying. D approached the closest door, he wiggled the knob to no effect and then crouched down. Sâmua just stood next to him watching as he pulled out a small thin bag filled with all sorts of instruments for lock picking. His nose crinkled up in mild distaste but it was only because he had long associated lock picks with thieves and not vampire hunters breaking into the room of a woman they knew nothing about.

There was a click and D stood up, putting his tools back into its case and he stashed it away in his belt. Perhaps Sâmua should’ve let him go on to list what was in there.

D opened the door to an empty bedroom. There were no windows, an elegant four poster bed could be seen behind a heavy half drawn curtain, a closet against a wall, a changing screen, and a rather large vanity. It was all in the same style as the lounge room, with floral wallpapers, winding filigree and more excess luxury. Just like the hall however the one oddity were the living plants in the vases. They hadn’t overgrown like plants left to their devices and they certainly weren’t fake either.

While D stood at the door deliberating over the scene Sâmua walked in, shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to fling open the closet. 

As he was perusing he saw the hunter look at him with the same cold hard stare, “what? You said this place was abandoned and I need clothes.” 

With that D merely looked up at the ceiling and left the scene. 

Naturally, Sâmua protested at being left alone but D answered with a wave of the hand and a simple, “shout if you find something.” before leaving the ladies’ hall entirely. The vampire couldn’t do anything more than grumble and pout as he tried to sift through the clothes and accessories for something salvageable.

Of course all the clothes were positively alien to him. Ribbons, ruffles and lace seem to be the primary feature of the silken gowns and he was significantly larger than them anyway but he couldn’t even find a good coat to cover his shoulders. 

In the end Sâmua found nothing besides marvelling at the difference of fashion. He grabbed a belt and some ribbon before going off to see the other rooms. Left to his devices, the empty hall felt slightly sinister when faced with the endless faces of the portraits that lined the walls. 

He walked to the second room and looked at the portrait apologetically, “so sorry for the intrusion.”

He had no skill in lock picking of course and he certainly wasn’t going to call D over to open every room. Instead Sâmua grabbed hold of the knob and yanked it with a violence. In that one move he had cracked the wood of the door and the entire knob was in his hand leaving behind a circular hole that once held it. With this act of vandalism Sâmua was pleased with himself as he pushed open the door and waltzed in as if he owned the place.

The room had the exact same furniture as the other one but it was rearranged in a different style, the vanity being next to the closet instead of opposite to it, the curtains drawn to a close to hide the bed and the table and chair behind the changing screen was moved to the side like a place to receive guests in this room. He continued his search picking out clothes and tossing aside what he couldn’t wear. 

Sâmua was holding the closet door in his hand and a velvet lined coat in the other when his attention was moved elsewhere. He thumbed something odd carved within the door. He pushed it further open and saw that the inside was lined with runes. 

“What the-” He pushed aside the other door and saw the same inscriptions matching it. 

Sâmua dropped the coat on the vanity to walk backwards and look deeper into the details of the closet. No runes there, he spun around with narrowed eyes at the rest of the room. In the dark, barely visible and hidden cleverly in the carvings were more runes on the doorframe. 

It was almost the same pattern on the closet. He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to remember what little he knew of runes but his knowledge was limited to ‘that is a rune’ and not what kind of fucking rune it was. Sâmua was starting to get a headache but he searched the room anew. There were no runes on the table or the vanity but when he moved the screen aside to reveal a washing basin and a small cupboard he found etched into the bottom of the basin more runes. This one was a different set but it had one singular rune he recognized. 

Sâmua tipped all the water out of the bowl and then set it down. 

Slowly it began to refill by itself and when he dipped his hand in, it was warm. 

So, not only was it an abandoned castle of a vampire it was also chockful of magical extremely convenient gizmos and so on. He moved away from the basin and flung an arm to pull the curtain aside. 

What he saw made him start back before swiftly spinning on his heel and darting out the door hissing as he tried to quietly call out, “D? D Get in here!”

D arrived to Sâmua in the hallway with his arms crossed and deep frown on his face standing next to a cracked door with a missing doorknob. The blonde’s expression was grim and uncertain.

The moment he was close Sâmua accosted him in a low voice, “do you know how to read runes?”

“A few,” D said and followed the vampire into the new room. 

Sâmua pointed to the inner doorframe and D began to trace the symbols carved into the design. 

“These… These are not runes I’m familiar with. They do not appear to be Nordic.” 

“Well, I don’t know what you’re on about but I only recognized what I was taught.” He pointed to a three pronged rune, “that’s wood and there’s a basin over there with a water rune but I don’t get the rest of it.”

D raised an eyebrow, his knowledge on runes made it so that Sâmua was either lying or misinformed, “then you know more than I do. These symbols in this pattern are not recognizable to me.” 

And he had a perfect memory. Some of them of course were similar to other runes but their use made no sense. He was shown more of the markings within the closet and then the basin. Sâmua knocked out the water and let D watch it refill itself. The rune for water was simple for even D to recognize it (three wavy lines) but the rest of them continued to be incomprehensible. Like the scribblings of a child who did not know what letters meant. If he swept a more critical eye around the room he’d find three out of the four corners had more runes, D would look up and in the pattern of the medallion above there were more. 

Although he wasn’t experienced in the use of spells he had encountered many witches, what he hadn’t encountered were the runes being used this way. Perhaps it was some code, when he gathered enough examples D would be able to figure out their pattern then their meaning.

The bowl was simple, the magic being used there was to summon water and to heat it to a degree, perhaps to keep it clean and so on. The ones on the door, the room and the ceiling were more tricky but he could recall that the closet had the same markings.

He was interrupted from his conjectures when Sâmua tugged him away and pointed at the bed. 

There lying between the cream colored silken sheets was a pale unmoving woman, with long wavy dark hair that encircled her head like a dark halo against the light sheets and her lighter skin. For a moment D was still, he could almost imagine a different woman, with the same deathly pallor, the stillness of the chest and the dark flowing hair. 

But it was not her, this was simply the woman in the portrait outside. 

The nose was not right and neither was her brow.

He approached the side of the bed carefully with Sâmua close behind him looking and feeling uneasy. 

“Is she dead or undead?” He whispered close to D’s ear but D merely slightly leaned his head away.

D placed the blade upon her forehead too quickly for Sâmua to protest and when nothing happened, “just dead.”

“I thought the blade was for ghosts.”

“A vampire would wake up.” Or rather be struck with revulsion enough to be startled into movement.

The vampire looked confused, “but why?”

D didn’t think there was any use of trying to convince or explain D that normal vampires would be repelled by the symbols of God so he took the next action he thought would silence Sâmua’s questions. Rolling his eyes and walking away.

It was effective, Sâmua was too insulted to be able to even stutter a word as he glared at D’s back. He crouched down in the foot of the bed to trace more of the runes that were hidden in the wood and was vaguely aware that Sâmua had moved on too. He moved back to the bowl and began to wash his hands, leisurely cleaning himself. After that he would disappear from D’s vision entirely and D could hear the rustle of clothing, some clinking, more fuss about the vanity (D supposed Sâmua was inspecting himself). He was getting agitated over the noise which was minimal but still distracting. It had gotten to the point that he glanced at Sâmua who had returned to the bowl. 

The hunter was sure his face was still blank trying not to show his affected manner and Sâmua, whatever he saw upon his face, would stick his tongue out before flinging the changing screen between them and blocking his view entirely. It was the more delicate equivalent of slamming a door to spite him, D supposed.

There was a scoff and D didn’t care enough to punish the sound.

Instead he pressed his palm against the runes and ran it along the repeating pattern.

“A spell of preservation, its source is elsewhere.” A quiet muffled voice could be heard.

The changing screen folded to open revealing a slightly cleaner Sâmua with a damp face, “what did you say?”

“Preservation spell, it’s probably why the body is in perfect condition and it’s everywhere.” He pointed up on the ceiling and at the doorframe. “Keeps everything in order and stops the wood from rotting or being eaten.”

Sâmua looked up but he didn’t look back at the doorframe. He was still craning his neck and his eyes narrowed. He pointed his finger up too.

“That… Looks familiar?” His voice was unsure, “a light rune?”

Whatever was going on in his head D wasn’t sure but Sâmua put his hands up and clapped. 

Immediately there was a spark-like sound to be heard and the room was bathed in light as the candles flickered to life and the medallion on the ceiling began to glow a warm yellow light. 

Sâmua was delighted at this achievement. D didn’t say anything, merely followed the vampire as he marched out into the hall and clapped again. The same thing happened: the lights that hung on the ceiling flickered into action and everything could be seen in its full glory.

“Whoa,” Sâmua breathed out as he took in everything. “Magic’s quite convenient.”

The carpet they had been walking all over was a deep red color. The delicate flowery frames, the filigree that twined along the edges of the ceiling and the corbels were all gold. The walls were painted cream which Sâmua thought was slightly better than the wallpaper inside the rooms. It was less busy to his eye. 

He had his hands on his hips as he examined the whole place but when he turned and saw D was looking at him he jumped a little. Sometimes he felt like he was a little scared of D but Sâmua was generally always frightened by the men he liked so that was nothing new. His face turned a little red at the remembrance of his past doings. 

“What? Scenes like this are not a daily sight, for me at least.” Sâmua said defensively.

D looked at the scene with a calm and ever unchanging look. He was either used to the sight or unimpressed which irritated his companion a little. 

“Well, whatever, go on. Stick your nose in magical carvings, I’m going to find myself some clothes.”

An eyebrow slightly raised, “In women’s rooms?”

“Fine, don’t ever get your cloak back,” Sâmua haughtily tilted his nose up as he stalked away. He had a firm grip upon its knob then tore the whole thing wide open with a great crack and some pieces of splinter flying off before waltzing in.

D followed because he might as well see and besides the temper tantrum was just a little entertaining. He had already memorized the hallway’s runes in his inspection. The repeated pattern of a preservation spell as well as the light spell. Nothing new to learn, that was his reason as he entered the room.

Sâmua was standing in front of the closet, the belt he had acquired in the previous room was slung upon his shoulder as he rummaged through the belongings. D realized that he might’ve picked the room right as the portrait outside was a woman with a less delicate frame. The vampire liked to be inconstant in his displays of intelligence but D supposed he functioned entirely by instinct.

While Sâmua was talking to himself making noises of displeasure or appreciation, D was lifting up a vase inspecting the painted runes (no longer carved into the porcelain) that kept the plants moist and healthy even without the sun. He was still holding the plant when Sâmua walked past him with his acquisition. 

In this room the vanity was right next to the changing screen which was convenient for Sâmua, who would throw the clothes upon the desk and he unfolded the changing screen to hide himself from view.

D put down the vase and watched the shadow of movement behind the changing screen. The silhouette behind it was more obvious now with the lights.

“Will I get my cloak back?”

“If these fit,” was the reply.

Sâmua felt out of sorts, he was too hyper aware of the other person in the room. 

He also made sure to throw the cloak away from where D was standing, not trusting the man or elf or whatever he was to take it when he had the chance. 

Besides, what the hell was he doing lingering here? Sâmua had planned to clean himself of the filth from the levels below and then see if what he picked out might be fit to wear.

D however was unassailed by such worries, this room had no corpse in it and so he turned around and prepared to sit on the bed. 

When he did however D immediately stood up, wooden and with a shock as he glared at the bed with wide eyes.

There was great high laughter but it was quickly cut short as he clenched his fist and grimaced. 

The laugh startled Sâmua who was tall enough to be able to peek over the changing screen. The blue eyes looking accusingly at D. He schooled his expression instantly.

“What’s wrong with you now? Going mad all by yourself?”

“Perhaps it was a ghost.”

Sâmua scowled, though only his eyes could be seen as it furrowed down, “it definitely came from you, stop messing with me. If you’re going to go mad try not to do it right next to me.”

His eyes disappeared again as he returned to his fuss behind the screen and D folded his arms looking upon the bed with a different expression. After a few more moments Sâmua swept the changing screen aside looking pleased with himself. 

It wasn’t like he had no reason to be vain but there was always something irritating or something humorous in beholding vanity. Though it seemed D would not be able to get his cloak back just yet.

The vampire had donned a white night shirt with delicate snowflake patterned lace framing his collarbones and over that was a thick deep blue and maroon colored silk and velvet dressing gown that had a long hanging sleeve with golden floral embroidery. All the while D’s cloak was used as a wrap around his waist being held together by two belts.

“Couldn’t you have picked out a skirt instead of my cloak?” was his first acknowledgement of the change.

The scowl returned but it eased away into haughty composure as the now refreshed Sâmua merely brushed the golden curls off his shoulder, “of course not, I do not like their skirts there’s too much train and layers of silken ruffles. Whatever material your cloak is-it’s much lighter and longer.”

He deemed that sufficient explanation and D wasn’t going to quarrel over his cloak for now. 

Instead he pointed at the bed and said, “try sitting on that.”

“Hmm? Why?” Sâmua looked at the bed, he was just absentminded enough to immediately obey but he caught sight of D’s face and he folded his arms. Suspicion in his eyes. “I don’t like that look upon your face.”

“I don’t have any look upon my face.” He folded his arms too, confident in his answer. D’s face was always as it was, or at least it felt to be.

“Yes, you do,” he continued to accuse him, “there’s a little quirk on your lips that makes it look smaller than it already is and I’d know it anywhere. You’re up to mischief, what did you do with the bed?”

D had a hand on his lips at what Sâmua said but he put it away and cradled his elbow instead.

“I didn’t do anything to the bed.”

“Then why are you acting odd?” 

“I haven’t.”

Sâmua glared at him with accusation and distrust while D simply waited to see how he’d respond and if he’d give in to the curiosity. 

“I’m not touching it.” He declared firmly.

“Fine.”

D turned away to be nonchalant and to keep Sâmua guessing over the meaning of the bed. As he left the room he watched Sâmua still eyeing the bed with reluctance and unease before quickly catching up to him, his face in a pout clearly troubled. D was pleased, why he wasn’t sure, maybe it was the comfort that Sâmua wasn’t entirely a mystery and at the very least his mind could be understood to an extent. No matter how odd it would be. 

They then explored a few more rooms, Sâmua had lost all interest in the runes and preoccupied himself by checking to see if he could find anything better. D was in a fair way of understanding most of the runes. At first D would pick the locks but after the fourth room he let Sâmua (who had grown impatient) brute force the door and after that whoever got to the door first would pry it open. 

However when they reached the thirteenth room both men paused. The portrait was slashed to pieces and even the metal plate meant to display the number of the door number was scratched. They both looked at each other, expecting the other person to take the door handle. Neither did then at the same moment both of them held the doorknob. 

Sâmua was always first to withdraw, his hands in the air as if in apology or surrender while he looked away, his hair hiding his face from D. 

D wrenched the door open and both of them were hit by the dank smell of rot and moisture. 

The room was totally wrecked, the floors were covered in dust, the walls had strips of the wallpaper barely clinging while the rest seemed to curl away like aging skin, the ceiling was decorated with abandoned spider webs, black fuzzy masses could be seen in splotches on the furniture.

Sâmua unenthusiastically clapped and nothing happened. 

It might have been a good thing, he’d rather not see this in all its glory. 

D walked in and the first thing he noticed was the scratches. The inner doorframe was wrecked, so were parts of the ceiling, the closet door was ripped to pieces, the vase shattered on the ground and the bowl was bent out of shape. All the spells were purposefully sabotaged.

In the middle of the room clawing at the wall next to the bed was another corpse. This one had not the grace of the former, it was dry, blackened with age, the skin clinging the the bones of its former inhabitant, the dress was stained and in tatters. More interestingly its head was entirely gone. In the mess of the place there were no more remnants of blood splatter. A quick look around the room and D could see the head was nowhere to be found.

“Gods,” Sâmua’s voice was muffled as he had a hand on his mouth hiding the deep grimace his face was set into.

No matter how fine this castle would seem to be there will always be an underlying cruelty to it. 

D gently moved the corpse aside with his foot and watched it crumple in on itself like burnt paper. Though there was no telling which stains were blood there was something that caught his attention. There was a darker stain on the floor but it didn’t extend to the wall. The wall was still gray, dirty, splotchy and the wall paper was shredded away but it wasn’t stained. 

D put his hand against it.

“A passage.” The voice said in the same tone he would.

He pushed, felt the wall give, swing and soon they were both facing a path of darkness. Dark stone walls with stone floors and unlit torches upon the walls.

D clapped his hand and the torches sprang to life. 

He looked back at Sâmua who was looking at the scene with deep displeasure.

“Shall we?”

“This place fucking sucks.”

Chapter Text

I'll write some of my headcanons about D and Samu below

I headcanon D to be a skinny ripped guy because he feeds once a week and has never for the ten thousands years he's lived had the chance to build muscle and fat to be buff or normal looking. My man is a pale very strong rat who is only alive because he is the son of Dracula and some fucking angel or something idk what the hell Mina was in the novels. 

he looks like that because the books say he looks 18 which is eugh imagine being 18 forever disgusting shit.

I like to draw D as a depressed dehydrated goth princess.

D has pouty lips its canon in all universes 

Samu is as he is, at this point of the story this is how they look yes I will be giving them different outfits because my favorite passtime is to use my ocs as paper dolls. Samua already has several outfits I'm going to contrive to get D out of his catsuit. 

Samu has multiple scars on his chest but my hand hurts and everyone thinks I'll get carpal so I'm going to fix that another time. This sentence will disappear when I give him his proper scars on the doodle on the right 

He asked for no pickles pose:

Thought it was funny but D behind Samua just means D is entirely out of sight good thing Samua doesn't like to put himself first lmao

Chapter Text

here be the boy

Here's the link with more stuff about me ranting and other doodles of D : https://www.tumblr.com/randomshenaniganery/785153577079504896/third-redesign-of-d-because-im-so-consistent-and?source=share

I might alter the previous writings to fit the new fit yk

Also I just really don't like drawing catsuits I love silhouettes and layers of clothes so much swaddling my boy is the best. Leaning more into western for D is also reallyyyy fun.