Trevor’s first conversation alone with Dracula took place in the back of the demon car, in pitch blackness. ‘Alone’ is a strong word, because the journey was spent with his arms around Alucard. But then so is ‘conversation’, because Dracula said only one thing to him.
“I know what you are, Belmont.”
There were other exchanges of words, between that and the second conversation, but none held so much weight as that. Discussions, strained and mostly civil, on the topic of Alucard’s care.
The second conversation came after Dracula’s demands were made, after Alucard had apologised himself to sleep and after Trevor had lifted him off the couch and up to their room. He turned back to fetch his knitting bag and found himself in the wrong part of the castle. In a part he wasn’t even sure he’d been aware of the existence of before. Dracula’s own study had been locked away from them in his absence, the door to it simply gone.
“Belmont. I would speak with you. Sit.”
He sat. He didn’t have a choice. In that instant, it became clear that Dracula knew full well not just what he was, but what it entailed. And Trevor was expecting gloating. He was expecting spite. Either of those would have been better than the deep, genuine sadness that followed.
“You will tell me what befell the sons of Leon, that his blood be dirtied so.”
It was a statement, not an order. He spoke anyway. He told him of the things that had crawled out of his shadow. Of Bluebeard and his fairy-wives. Of Springheeled Jack and the burning of London. Of The Ripper and how every woman of the Belmont family cut a ward against his compulsion into their skin and had a tooth pulled out and replaced with silver. Without being ordered, without being compelled, without even being threatened, he sat before Dracula and told him every secret that the Belmonts had left.
With a single word (dirty), Dracula made him believe that he, who had been with his family since the beginning, who had seen its rise and fall and rebirth and judged so many of its members, was the only one who was worthy of those secrets. That the last son of Leon Belmont was too tainted to deserve his family’s legacy.
And then he offered it to him anyway.
“You may take up the whip, Belmont, if you do so in my name.”
MEANWHILE, WITH DRAC.
“I know what you are, Belmont.”
There were other exchanges of words, between that and the second conversation, but none held so much weight as that. Discussions, strained and mostly civil, on the topic of Alucard’s care.
The second conversation came after Dracula’s demands were made, after Alucard had apologised himself to sleep and after Trevor had lifted him off the couch and up to their room. He turned back to fetch his knitting bag and found himself in the wrong part of the castle. In a part he wasn’t even sure he’d been aware of the existence of before. Dracula’s own study had been locked away from them in his absence, the door to it simply gone.
“Belmont. I would speak with you. Sit.”
He sat. He didn’t have a choice. In that instant, it became clear that Dracula knew full well not just what he was, but what it entailed. And Trevor was expecting gloating. He was expecting spite. Either of those would have been better than the deep, genuine sadness that followed.
“You will tell me what befell the sons of Leon, that his blood be dirtied so.”
It was a statement, not an order. He spoke anyway. He told him of the things that had crawled out of his shadow. Of Bluebeard and his fairy-wives. Of Springheeled Jack and the burning of London. Of The Ripper and how every woman of the Belmont family cut a ward against his compulsion into their skin and had a tooth pulled out and replaced with silver. Without being ordered, without being compelled, without even being threatened, he sat before Dracula and told him every secret that the Belmonts had left.
With a single word (dirty), Dracula made him believe that he, who had been with his family since the beginning, who had seen its rise and fall and rebirth and judged so many of its members, was the only one who was worthy of those secrets. That the last son of Leon Belmont was too tainted to deserve his family’s legacy.
And then he offered it to him anyway.
“You may take up the whip, Belmont, if you do so in my name.”
Trevor nodded.