[ She hates that she stumbles back again. But this time when her back touches meat (warm meat, still with a pulse. Still bleeding. Still breathing. Still screaming) she doesn't flinch away. He is dead. He is dead and this is her kingdom of flesh and bones and blood. ]

No, my lord. On the morning of my coronation, I speak nothing but the truth. Our kind will survive. Thrive. Even if we must be diminished to one to do it. My master is gone. You are gone. I remain, my lord, to carry your legacies as they deserve to be carried out. To be the paragon of our kind. To take and to take and to take until all things are mine.

[ The hook in Alucard's chast brushes against the back of her head, but she barely feels it. Barely feels Dracula's blood burning away her skin anymore. She has won. She has won and this is an illusion. ]