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The first ending is where many would decide to call it a night and conclude the tale. [Where to end things is always just as important as where to begin.
And maybe that's something to consider these days. Alucard thinks of everything wrapped up together, he thinks too damn much. It's why his brain is skilled at weaving together all these different threads, usually with no real benefit to himself.]
But I like this one much more. [It's more tender and sweet. He sighs, content with the conclusion.]
And maybe that's something to consider these days. Alucard thinks of everything wrapped up together, he thinks too damn much. It's why his brain is skilled at weaving together all these different threads, usually with no real benefit to himself.]
But I like this one much more. [It's more tender and sweet. He sighs, content with the conclusion.]
And I suppose if she were a shoemaker's daughter they would make him a lot of shoes.
[But it's good to see him unwinding, especially after his prolonged bout of crying earlier. His sighs are much easier to hear when they're soft and warm like this, and she ducks down a little to press a kiss against his head.]
I suppose someday you'll have to find me a beautiful dress too.
[But it's good to see him unwinding, especially after his prolonged bout of crying earlier. His sighs are much easier to hear when they're soft and warm like this, and she ducks down a little to press a kiss against his head.]
I suppose someday you'll have to find me a beautiful dress too.
...Probably too many shoes.
[Who needs that many pairs? The clothing does make more sense in terms of how much a prince might need, and he's applying logic to stories which means he ought to stop.
The kiss feels lovely, but the comment inspires redness in Alucard's cheeks.]
You'd wear something that isn't your robes? [Waitasec.] Or one of my shirts?
[Which are clearly too big on her.]
[Who needs that many pairs? The clothing does make more sense in terms of how much a prince might need, and he's applying logic to stories which means he ought to stop.
The kiss feels lovely, but the comment inspires redness in Alucard's cheeks.]
You'd wear something that isn't your robes? [Waitasec.] Or one of my shirts?
[Which are clearly too big on her.]
If I had something that wasn't my robes or one of your shirts. That's one of the reasons I take your shirts to begin with.
[Not the only reason, but one of them. There's a benign explanation, and then there are ulterior motives.]
Speakers always dress the same, for protection. It makes it harder to tell us apart, especially for the men and the women. So I've never had something like a woman's dress, much less any place to wear one.
[Not the only reason, but one of them. There's a benign explanation, and then there are ulterior motives.]
Speakers always dress the same, for protection. It makes it harder to tell us apart, especially for the men and the women. So I've never had something like a woman's dress, much less any place to wear one.
And here I thought it was just to make me wonder why I was running out of clean ones so quickly.
[He's kidding. Mostly.]
My understanding of women's garments means that you're more likely than not to feel trapped by clothing. It's generally not as loose as you're used to.
[But there's something else to pick at here, and Alucard lets out a soft snort as he realizes it.]
It's not as if we ever go somewhere nice.
[He's kidding. Mostly.]
My understanding of women's garments means that you're more likely than not to feel trapped by clothing. It's generally not as loose as you're used to.
[But there's something else to pick at here, and Alucard lets out a soft snort as he realizes it.]
It's not as if we ever go somewhere nice.
So you don't want to see me in that sort of a dress.
[All of these protests sound very much like reluctance, Mr. Blushy Red-Cheeks.]
I don't think the point of them is to be comfortable, anyway. Certainly not to fight in, or travel in, or...do anything very useful in. You only ever see them in portraits because I think sitting still is about the only thing they're good for.
[All of these protests sound very much like reluctance, Mr. Blushy Red-Cheeks.]
I don't think the point of them is to be comfortable, anyway. Certainly not to fight in, or travel in, or...do anything very useful in. You only ever see them in portraits because I think sitting still is about the only thing they're good for.
Now that's putting words into my mouth.
[He's just thinking ahead!]
If...if you really like, I could try and see what I can do.
[He's just thinking ahead!]
If...if you really like, I could try and see what I can do.
I think it would be...novel. Maybe just to try.
[All things considered she could make the educated guess that she probably won't like it, but...well. They're taking time off from adventuring for themselves, anyway, and it couldn't hurt. And it might be a nice distraction for Alucard. And even if the actuality doesn't pan out in the long run, maybe just the fantasy of it is worth it all in itself. Like telling bedtime stories. Like being romantic just for the sake of being romantic.]
If it's not too much trouble.
[...]
Besides, then you'll have more of your shirts back!
[All things considered she could make the educated guess that she probably won't like it, but...well. They're taking time off from adventuring for themselves, anyway, and it couldn't hurt. And it might be a nice distraction for Alucard. And even if the actuality doesn't pan out in the long run, maybe just the fantasy of it is worth it all in itself. Like telling bedtime stories. Like being romantic just for the sake of being romantic.]
If it's not too much trouble.
[...]
Besides, then you'll have more of your shirts back!
It isn't.
[There will be fabric ordered that is custom and probably too rich for any of them, and then there's the actual work of construction, but if the fabric is worth it's salt it can be made into something warm even if Sypha hates the whole thing. A coat or robe for dealing with the draftier parts of the castle, or just something more luxurious for loafing around.
The hand on Sypha's back tugs at the offending shirt.]
And yes, I'd quite like them back too.
[There will be fabric ordered that is custom and probably too rich for any of them, and then there's the actual work of construction, but if the fabric is worth it's salt it can be made into something warm even if Sypha hates the whole thing. A coat or robe for dealing with the draftier parts of the castle, or just something more luxurious for loafing around.
The hand on Sypha's back tugs at the offending shirt.]
And yes, I'd quite like them back too.
Mm, are you saying you want it back right now?
[Because she's wearing it right now. It is also the only thing she's wearing right now, aside from the blanket, and she's absolutely certain he knows that also.]
Alucard...
[Because she's wearing it right now. It is also the only thing she's wearing right now, aside from the blanket, and she's absolutely certain he knows that also.]
Alucard...
I can wait.
[In a better mood, he'd quite literally pounce on this opportunity. But the past hour and change have been nothing but an emotional roller coaster, and he's only just disembarking from the ride.]
Happier like this.
[In a better mood, he'd quite literally pounce on this opportunity. But the past hour and change have been nothing but an emotional roller coaster, and he's only just disembarking from the ride.]
Happier like this.
Good. You should be happy.
[Not just about the shirt. She says it like a benediction, you should be happy, as though vowing to make it so and daring the world to defy her, if it's fool enough to try.]
Stay close to me, my heart, so that I can always keep you warm.
[Not just about the shirt. She says it like a benediction, you should be happy, as though vowing to make it so and daring the world to defy her, if it's fool enough to try.]
Stay close to me, my heart, so that I can always keep you warm.
[It's not so unheard of, what happens one night in the midst of the two weeks the three of them spend at the castle recuperating. Sypha has heard stories of the phenomenon, certainly; it shows up often enough in tales from around the world to be at least familiar, if not curious. Trevor's religion shares some of the same: sleepers being visited with dreams and prophecies, and awaking the next morning with the guidance offered to them during their slumber.
It happens just once, in the right place and at the right time — on a night when Alucard has finally relented enough to sleep in the middle of the tangle of three, with Trevor's arms around him and Sypha's head tucked under his chin, and the castle still and quiet, and the blankets warm and thick.
It's a dream that begins like a memory: his father's study, the great tall chair by the fire. It faces the door, this time, the way it had for all his years of growing up with these corridors as a playground. The fire is glowing, red-orange and warm. The room is quiet, and still, but oddly not lonely.
It's only after he sits in the chair, and faces the door, that something changes. He'll look once, and find the open portal to the corridor empty.
If he looks twice, he'll find that it's empty no longer — filled now with the figure of a blond woman in a sensible burgundy dress, her soft hair so much like his own in the way that it frames her face in waves.]
It happens just once, in the right place and at the right time — on a night when Alucard has finally relented enough to sleep in the middle of the tangle of three, with Trevor's arms around him and Sypha's head tucked under his chin, and the castle still and quiet, and the blankets warm and thick.
It's a dream that begins like a memory: his father's study, the great tall chair by the fire. It faces the door, this time, the way it had for all his years of growing up with these corridors as a playground. The fire is glowing, red-orange and warm. The room is quiet, and still, but oddly not lonely.
It's only after he sits in the chair, and faces the door, that something changes. He'll look once, and find the open portal to the corridor empty.
If he looks twice, he'll find that it's empty no longer — filled now with the figure of a blond woman in a sensible burgundy dress, her soft hair so much like his own in the way that it frames her face in waves.]
[Prophecy isn't a unique concept. They've all been bound by it, only an idiot ignores ancient wisdom. Even if one's parents were scientists. (One of those parents was also a master of the dark arts, after all.) Even if the dream begins in a much too familiar way.
(He'll wake and mutter that this is because he slept in the middle for once instead of his normal spot. He usually sleeps closest to the door out of instinct. Pointless as Trevor has pointed out time and again. Smarter men would come through the windows these days. Instinct remains. And it is nice to have two pairs of warm arms around him with all the additional blankets.)
The study it is. Another night of grief, most likely, because that's what this set up always means. Alucard doesn't wake up from this particular dream anymore, he lets it go where it decides to, then rises to make breakfast. Whatever foul mood he's in for those dreams is gone by the time that all three plates are ready to be devoured.
But this isn't the dream as it usually is. The door is closed most days, because that's how he spends his waking time in the room. Door closed. Memories done in private. (He showed Sypha earlier today. Maybe that's why this is different. She'll say it is later, he's sure.)
And there's his mother. Not acting out the rote motions of memory (she's usually gone by this point when he thinks there's some kind of ghost in the halls), but interacting in dreams.
Which means he isn't there to question logic. Just to ensure that this isn't guilt taking a new and exciting form.]
...Mother?
[Soft. Concerned. Uncertain.]
(He'll wake and mutter that this is because he slept in the middle for once instead of his normal spot. He usually sleeps closest to the door out of instinct. Pointless as Trevor has pointed out time and again. Smarter men would come through the windows these days. Instinct remains. And it is nice to have two pairs of warm arms around him with all the additional blankets.)
The study it is. Another night of grief, most likely, because that's what this set up always means. Alucard doesn't wake up from this particular dream anymore, he lets it go where it decides to, then rises to make breakfast. Whatever foul mood he's in for those dreams is gone by the time that all three plates are ready to be devoured.
But this isn't the dream as it usually is. The door is closed most days, because that's how he spends his waking time in the room. Door closed. Memories done in private. (He showed Sypha earlier today. Maybe that's why this is different. She'll say it is later, he's sure.)
And there's his mother. Not acting out the rote motions of memory (she's usually gone by this point when he thinks there's some kind of ghost in the halls), but interacting in dreams.
Which means he isn't there to question logic. Just to ensure that this isn't guilt taking a new and exciting form.]
...Mother?
[Soft. Concerned. Uncertain.]
Adrian.
[There are ways that phantoms and specters behave, in dreams that are largely figments of one's imagination, or of the latent guilt resting in their subconscious. The ghosts act mysteriously, behave ethereally. They are aloof, and distant, and enigmatic.
This one, however, seems the very antithesis of aloof; quite the contrary, her expression brightens visibly when she's acknowledged, and she takes a few subconscious steps toward him like she's drawn to his presence, or at the very least like it's simply her instinct to move to him and take him in her arms.]
My, look how you've grown.
[There are ways that phantoms and specters behave, in dreams that are largely figments of one's imagination, or of the latent guilt resting in their subconscious. The ghosts act mysteriously, behave ethereally. They are aloof, and distant, and enigmatic.
This one, however, seems the very antithesis of aloof; quite the contrary, her expression brightens visibly when she's acknowledged, and she takes a few subconscious steps toward him like she's drawn to his presence, or at the very least like it's simply her instinct to move to him and take him in her arms.]
My, look how you've grown.
[The energy is what makes Alucard realize that this is truly not just his mind making decisions for him. Relaying familiar words in the tones he has always heard, because there's a sort of gravity to his mother (he's not using the word specter or ghost, not yet) that does not match up in the past. It's the same kind of gravity he has in dreams too.
But there's fear that this might be some demon or ill thing with a familiar face. Voicing it, that's pointless. Worse, there's the desire to put that concern to the side, and he's off the chair.
And a very, very soft laugh from him.]
Nonsense. You know that at this point I haven't aged a day.
But there's fear that this might be some demon or ill thing with a familiar face. Voicing it, that's pointless. Worse, there's the desire to put that concern to the side, and he's off the chair.
And a very, very soft laugh from him.]
Nonsense. You know that at this point I haven't aged a day.
I wasn't talking about your age.
[She does come a little closer, but stops short of actually moving to him to try to touch him; it seems she's preferring at the moment to hang back a little, the better to look him over from head to toe.]
You've found yourself a pair of friends.
["Friends".]
I always did hope you would find someone to love, besides me.
[She does come a little closer, but stops short of actually moving to him to try to touch him; it seems she's preferring at the moment to hang back a little, the better to look him over from head to toe.]
You've found yourself a pair of friends.
["Friends".]
I always did hope you would find someone to love, besides me.
[The distance is...there's meaning to it, isn't there? That there hasn't just been that running embrace (the other two do that sometimes when they're back at the castle from a very long trip. Sypha first because Alucard can just scoop her up and spin her around in his arms. Then Trevor knocks them both over onto the floor, Alucard bitches about something breaking, and there's the usual joy and stupid arguments echoing through the main hall.) Should he...?
No, he should look very embarrassed and go as blushfaced as a vampire can.]
Mother!
[How many years and it's childish embarrassment first?]
No, he should look very embarrassed and go as blushfaced as a vampire can.]
Mother!
[How many years and it's childish embarrassment first?]
[Is there any truer confirmation of her identity than the fact that she can embarrass him this easily and with this much tactical precision? Perhaps not.]
Am I wrong?
[As though he's got any room to deny it.]
I hope your Belmont is treating you well. But you seem to be able to handle him without any trouble.
Am I wrong?
[As though he's got any room to deny it.]
I hope your Belmont is treating you well. But you seem to be able to handle him without any trouble.
[Okay, this is real. And it's happening. And this is the conversation they're starting with.]
How much, exactly have you been witnessing?
[If there's anything beyond handholding, he's going to just go back to Gresit and stay there.]
How much, exactly have you been witnessing?
[If there's anything beyond handholding, he's going to just go back to Gresit and stay there.]
Less than I used to. Before, I always watched over you, whenever I could. While you slept in Gresit, I stayed with you.
[She's quiet a minute, before she makes one small but dramatically significant grammatical change as she continues.]
But you're finding your way, now. So we don't worry quite as much.
[She's quiet a minute, before she makes one small but dramatically significant grammatical change as she continues.]
But you're finding your way, now. So we don't worry quite as much.
....Ah.
[We. So that's. That's a thing. And that was always one of the nightmares, wasn't it? Being confronted with some version of his mother and having to tell her what the world and his father's rage demanded of him. Breaking her heart for it, because there was no way that I killed my father because he mourned you in the worst way would end in anything but heartbreak. It was one of his least favorite nightmares. (He had quite a few least favorites, but it was in the top five.
There's no movement in him, nor does he meet his mother's eyes for this next part:]
How did that...go....
[Whatever strange reunion was had. And is this moving away from his romantic life? Hell yeah.]
[We. So that's. That's a thing. And that was always one of the nightmares, wasn't it? Being confronted with some version of his mother and having to tell her what the world and his father's rage demanded of him. Breaking her heart for it, because there was no way that I killed my father because he mourned you in the worst way would end in anything but heartbreak. It was one of his least favorite nightmares. (He had quite a few least favorites, but it was in the top five.
There's no movement in him, nor does he meet his mother's eyes for this next part:]
How did that...go....
[Whatever strange reunion was had. And is this moving away from his romantic life? Hell yeah.]
He should have listened to you.
[Her voice is very, very quiet, and forlorn. He doesn't move, or look at her, and she understands why; for a year, a war was cultivated in her name, for her sake. Like a perverse Helen of Troy, her death launched a thousand others. And standing on opposing sides of it all were the two people she loved most — and worse still, the two people whose motives she understood best.
She'd known even before her flesh had burned away what Vlad would do when he learned of it. She'd prayed her cries might reach him, and they hadn't.]
At the last, you reminded him that there was still something on this earth that he loved, Adrian.
[Her voice is very, very quiet, and forlorn. He doesn't move, or look at her, and she understands why; for a year, a war was cultivated in her name, for her sake. Like a perverse Helen of Troy, her death launched a thousand others. And standing on opposing sides of it all were the two people she loved most — and worse still, the two people whose motives she understood best.
She'd known even before her flesh had burned away what Vlad would do when he learned of it. She'd prayed her cries might reach him, and they hadn't.]
At the last, you reminded him that there was still something on this earth that he loved, Adrian.
Not soon enough.
[Because that had been a plagued thought. If that break through had happened sooner, perhaps the need for that terrible death would have been avoided. He'd have his father alive and the world would maybe be recovering from all those night creatures in a different way.
But he did not break through in time. He was half-dead before it happened. And that's a terrible truth too.]
[Because that had been a plagued thought. If that break through had happened sooner, perhaps the need for that terrible death would have been avoided. He'd have his father alive and the world would maybe be recovering from all those night creatures in a different way.
But he did not break through in time. He was half-dead before it happened. And that's a terrible truth too.]
And he should've come home a day sooner.
[On this point, at least, she is suddenly and emphatically no-nonsense. Because it's very apparent where this line of thinking goes, getting tangled up in the thorns of what might have been. He could torment himself for a hundred years over notions of what he might have done differently, and in the end of things she still wouldn't be any less dead, or Vlad any less fallen.]
You made yourself responsible for him. But that doesn't make you responsible for his choices.
[On this point, at least, she is suddenly and emphatically no-nonsense. Because it's very apparent where this line of thinking goes, getting tangled up in the thorns of what might have been. He could torment himself for a hundred years over notions of what he might have done differently, and in the end of things she still wouldn't be any less dead, or Vlad any less fallen.]
You made yourself responsible for him. But that doesn't make you responsible for his choices.
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