[Alucard is not above running this clash until the first rays of light force Carmilla to become naught but ash. But he wants it done before that. He wants her dead, and he wants it more fiercely than he's wanted anything in his life in this moment.
He anticipates the old come from behind trick. So he becomes a wolf just as she disappears, and his jaws snap at the panther's throat with a deep and abiding fury.
[ The flesh tears, but she doesn't care much. It will knit back together. It always has. Even catching her off-guard, he didn't manage to kill her even before she began to feed in earnest. And certainly not now, not after her long feast. Between her own years and Godbrand's and ever other vampire she's consumed there are more years, more power, more blood consumed than even Dracula himself. She dissolves into mist again before Alucard's jaws can close completely, red particles of blood floating around within the fog from the open wound.
The long claw marks appear across the wolf's side before she reappears, and then there's a hand on his head. The hand closes, long nails aiming for the eyes. ]
[Alucard's a bat before the nails can find purchase in his eyes. It's such a near thing, and a horrible reminder of what the stakes are here.
Throughout it, Alucard gives as good as he gets. Oh, he takes blows, blows that take more than an instant to recover from, but he always gets back on his feet. It feels like a miracle when he does that some moments, and there is such satisfaction on his face when Carmilla is disappointed he is standing.
Hours go by. Or maybe minutes. It's hard to tell, but the moon changes position as the fight drags on. This? This may be too long.]
[ Something's wrong. The wound at her throat doesn't immediately close. The blooding slows, but it doesn't stop. The other blows she amasses heal similarly slowly. Vampires ten times this whelp's age have failed to leave lasting marks on her. Dracula's blood is infuriating, she'll need to eat again to recover her strength.
She isn't tiring, though her injuries are beginning to slow her down. But she knows how long this has taken. She's all too keenly aware. They don't have long before dawn.
She'd rather hoped to stay within the spirit of the rules, for appearances' sake. But- well. The little prince allowed her to wear her false tooth. She's within the letter of them, and that's enough. She reaches into her mouth, tugging out the ornate golden tooth there, and twists the top of it with all the delicacy that anyone could muster in the middle of a vampire fight.
It's in the middle of a transformation that she catches Alucard with the tooth barely a minute later. She'd grabbed onto his fur as a wolf to wrestle his jaws away from her and when he changes shape to loose her grip, she drives the fake fang into his neck.
And then she relaxes, letting herself stretch as the tooth injects its poison. It's done. ]
Oh, dearest. Aren't you proud of what you helped me achieve? I wouldn't have had that little toy without your help.
[Alucard knows that Carmilla will not adhere to rules. The question is when will she finally throw off any guise of obeying them and reveal her usual awful self. As hours pass by, the moment comes closer. Alucard knows that much.
The wolf is meant to get him out of a tight spot. Let him lung at her legs to disable her futher, and oh--
There's a sudden gasp. Alucard knows something has hit his blood stream that shouldn't be there, and that the neck as an injection site is very bad. It will spread the thing much too quickly. Moving will make it worse, and yet he does so within moments as a man.
He doesn't respond. He snarls a horrible noise and lunges at her, all nails and fangs and pent up decades, and he latches onto her arm to rip out a chunk of flesh. The movement is slower than it ought to be. He manages the tear, but after he spits it out, oh.
Fuck.
His hands aren't moving as fast as they ought to be.]
Inevitable.
[He hisses, and that? That is a noise and a codeword to the other two.]
[ Carmilla hisses in turn when Alucard's teeth sink in to her arm- shit, he shouldn't have been capable of that. He shouldn't be moving at all.
Dracula's blood really is irritating. No matter. It'll be hers, soon enough. She looks down at the blood flowing down her arm and flicks droplets of it from her hand. ]
I'm not sure I care for that tone. I asked your leave, did I not? [ She throws Alucard to the ground and kicks at the side of his head once, twice. At the third, she instead nudges her foot against the fang in his neck, driving it in further. Whatever aid he was hoping for, it hasn't arrived yet. ]
Answer carefully, dear. Do you mean to accuse me of violating our agreement?
[Alucard can't reach into his coat and take out Carmilla's tooth. He has it mounted as a small dagger now, for moments just like this. His hands aren't working, and she'd be able to regain that tooth.
But he can still move his head. As painful as it is to have the awful thing in his neck, he can still move. Just a little. Just enough to dig his own claws into that foot, and sink fang in as well. He may not be able to draw out more awful flesh, but he can still deliver pain.
It won't buy him time for the other two to arrive. If they fail entirely, well, at least he can say he got a few licks on her.]
May my father's blood be just as poisonous to you as this concoction is to me then.
[He's refusing to give her an inch. But he's also hoping the other two are listening and carefully. They'll know what's happened.]
[ She hisses in pain again, pulling her foot away to bring it down once, quickly on the side of his head and then backing away. She doubts that he could kill her now but this is still painful. No need to allow him even small victories. ]
This is childish, my prince.
[ When she moves close again, it's to grab his wrists, bringing them together to hold them above his head in one hand. And it's with actual purpose, rather than pure spite. Still a lot of spite, but there's some purpose there as well. She begins to drag him. Dawn will come soon, and whatever allies he has will miss him before long. Best to retreat somewhere more secure.
The building he's being dragged to smells of reeks of blood, a mixture of pig and goat and human and vampire. Even Carmilla finds it difficult to navigate through the maze of overwhelming stenches. Vampire senses do have their disadvantages. Some way in, once Alucard's eyes are used to the absence of moonlight, long heavy hanging figures become clear. Another moment, and they can be seen even more clearly. Pigs, about half of them. A few more are human. A couple are forged creatures, by the looks of them. One has long fangs. All are hanging from the ceiling by wicked-looking hooks. ]
[Alucard can't struggle. His limbs are lost to him right now. He attempts a retort to her, but no. Words are also lost. His mouth is numb and in his eyes there is a flash of terror. He'll die if this fails and...
...for the first time, he doesn't want that.
Horrible moment for a break through as he's dragged through the streets. Hopefully anyone remaining in Braila can escape during the day. He hopes that the fight has bought some people their freedom. It's worth it, only for that.
They remain along the river though, to the section of the city where all the worst and the smelliest trades are. Alucard can tell a slaughter house by the scent, and oh God he understands what's going on.
Yet it works, doesn't it? It's a horror. It fits Carmilla's awful person that she has devolved into, feeding from her own kind.
Alucard doesn't struggle. But the hatred in his eyes remains.]
Poor dear. It could have been so easy for you. You could have just eaten your supper and slept forever. Been safe and happy with your father’s lovely little pet. You didn’t need to suffer.
[ She lifts Alucard by the collar with one hand, the other stroking the side of his face in mock-comfort. Something cold pokes between his shoulder blades. ]
You make everything so difficult for yourself.
[ With that she pulls down sharply, pushing the meat hook through Alucard’s chest to hang him there. ]
I’m afraid I need you alive a little longer. Best that you metabolise the poison so that I don’t have to.
[ she gives a long pause in mock-thought, the kind that’s calculated to be just long enough to instil dread, and them moves close again. ]
...you don’t need arms or legs to metabolise the poison, now do you?
[ Her long claws dig deep into Alucard’s thigh, deep enough to scrape bone, as she sets about trying to clumsily cut through the limb with her bare hands. It’s horrible, grisly work. But then, then she stops.
Freezes, to be precise, staring up horrified at something that doesn’t appear to be there. ]
[Metabolize. Good. That might be the one chance he has to escape. At least Alucard thinks that for second before Carmilla makes her intentions known. Fuck. Fuck. He won't be able to heal from that and still attack her.
This is how it all goes then. Carved up by Carmilla, who finally has the awful crown she wanted since Dracula was sealed away and Alucard was dragged into her care. Longer than he expected, but...
...he tries to fight back out of instinct. Attempts to kick at her even as long claws dig into thigh, and oh. Nothing should touch bone. She's nearly at an artery, and the blood spray is so dangerous right now.
He can't know what Carmilla sees when she looks up. Alucard can only guess that magic is at work, buying him time.
Yet what Carmilla sees is the face of Dracula, red eyes and blood dripping from his face, every inch of him contorted in fury. He has only one question on his lips.]
[ She sees Dracula. She sees Dracula, and she sees him not as Alucard saw him, nor as her own kind saw their ruler. She sees him as the Belmont siblings saw him. As Trevor saw him, soon after Lisa's death. So he doesn't simply have a couple feet of height on her, he towers twice her size. She has to tilt her head back as far as it will tilt to see his face, and god she has to look at his face because his face is the only part of him that a mind can comprehend. It's horrifying, but it's human-shaped. The rest of him is roiling darkness, the kind of darkness that bores its way into the skull.
She stumbles back away from him, from Alucard, as the blood dribbles onto her face. And oh, just as Alucard cursed, it does burn. Like acid. ]
My lord. My- my lord. Please. [ Something stikes her back. She's stumbled back into one of the bodies. But she can't see them. There is only Dracula, and the darkness and the cold dead things trapping her here with him, and in the terror that freezes her veins it barely occurs to her that she could tear the bodies down with a wave of her hand. ] Please understand, I act only in love for our kind-.
[It is the voice of compulsion, delivered in a tone colder than ice. Alucard, still stunned by that awful poison, doesn't move. Doesn't try to move. He can only feel the pain, and the frozen nature of his own vocal chords.
The apparition looms larger, blood red eyes burrowing into Carmilla's own.
You have betrayed your kind by turning your court into a farmyard, and viewing your own as nothing but meat. You have betrayed your own kind by planning to murder my son. You have betrayed your own kind in every imaginable way, and your name shall be the shame of your kind for millennia to come.
What would I do with you if I had a physical body, Carmilla of Styria? How would I imprison you? How would I prolong your worthless, miserable life so it was a torture and you begged to meet the sun?
[ The grave. The grave. Oh, but that is a comfort to hear. The grave. ]
If. If you had a body. Not no, you? You are dead.
[ Her voice is weaker than she wishes it were, but she pushes aside another lump of meat, inching slowly closer to Dracula. ] Deader than any of us ever were. You abandoned us for your petty revenge, and I? I have ensured the survival of the best of our kind in the void you left. Culled the weak to bring power to the strong.
[ Dracula's blood burns. She can feel it tearing away her skin so much more keenly than she could feel Alucard's claws and teeth. But pain is not death, and so it does not frighten her. She will not cower before a dead man. ]
I have done what we have always done, my lord. I have taken. You left your son among wolves - I only bit.
You have the audacity to lie in your final moments?
[The question is coupled with a sudden screech of agony. That? That would be Alucard, finally regaining motion in his person. The ability to express pain and oh. Oh it is deep and it is howling, for the combination of the meat hook and the injury to his legs are so deadly deep.]
[ 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. ]
[Alucard knows that if he can get off the meat hook, that wound will heal. It is the leg that is the problem, for Carmilla is an elder and thus he will always heal slower from their wounds.
He has a voice now. He can screech properly. And he does so, voice echoing off of the walls and mixing with the furious noise the figure of Dracula makes as it lunges at Carmilla, fangs bared and snapping, ready to gobble Carmilla up.]
[ She says, and at first she stands tall. He draws closer and closer and she does not flinch. Will not flinch.
But doubt creeps in. He is dead, yes. But death has never stopped any of them. She falters. Steps back again, until her back is against Alucard's chest and her weight swings him backward on the hook. ]
You are dead!
[ It's a screech of her own when she says it again, claws extended as she brings her arms in front of her face to protect herself against nothing at all. ]
WHO ELSE OF OUR KIND TRICKED DEATH THE WAY I DID, CARMILLA? WHY SHOULD THE GRAVE CONFINE ME?
[Death has bowed to Mathias Cronqvist time and again. Now is no different. And as Dracula lungs, as Carmilla brushes against Alucard, the hook is dislodged and--
--Alucard falls free. He lands atop Carmilla in an awful, messy way, but oh. He can fight through the agony now. He can break his hands apart and free them. He can reach into his coat pocket and withdraw the awful little dagger they fashioned from Carmilla's fang.]
[ And just like that, the sun is risen. Dracula is gone as suddenly as he appeared. He is dead, and she is alive.
It takes her a moment for that to sink in. And then it does, and the halfbreed is down from his hook. A trick. It was a trick. ]
You- [ She begins, pulling herself up. She lifts Alucard by the hole in his chest, fingers tearing into the wound, and then tosses him across the room. Humans and pigs and night creatures alike are torn from their hooks as she gives chase. He lands in a pile of cold bodies and then she is above him, all claws and teeth. ] -I have no more patience.
[The dagger is out. Alucard can manage that much, and so when he lands, he has it pointed upright. She's over him, towering, there is sun out now and--
--and he thrusts upward with all the energy he can give, a gutteral expression of all the fury and sorrow and everything inside of him being let out. The walls and bodies around them shake for the effort, and Alucard doesn't know if he cares. He only forces the fang dagger deeper and deeper into Carmilla's heart, until it is hilt in.
He yanks it out as quickly as he can. The wound should take. The wound has to take.]
[ The wound takes. How can it not, when it's her own body turned against her?
She doesn't die instantly. No, she thrashes about. Drags more corpses down on top of them. The weight of them pins her down (the weight of humans! pinning her down! that oughtn't happen) and then her death throes are against Alucard, fierce to the last but bruising rather than bone shattering and steadily growing weaker. And then they stop, and Alucard is alone in the slaughterhouse, trapped beneath Carmilla and a pile of strangers. ]
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[ It's outdoors, dangerous for her if the battle lasts too long. It won't.
She's upon Alucard in an instant, dashing toward him only to vanish at the last moment, reappearing as a panther behind him to pounce. ]
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He anticipates the old come from behind trick. So he becomes a wolf just as she disappears, and his jaws snap at the panther's throat with a deep and abiding fury.
It's awful, the noises that ensue.]
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The long claw marks appear across the wolf's side before she reappears, and then there's a hand on his head. The hand closes, long nails aiming for the eyes. ]
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Throughout it, Alucard gives as good as he gets. Oh, he takes blows, blows that take more than an instant to recover from, but he always gets back on his feet. It feels like a miracle when he does that some moments, and there is such satisfaction on his face when Carmilla is disappointed he is standing.
Hours go by. Or maybe minutes. It's hard to tell, but the moon changes position as the fight drags on. This? This may be too long.]
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She isn't tiring, though her injuries are beginning to slow her down. But she knows how long this has taken. She's all too keenly aware. They don't have long before dawn.
She'd rather hoped to stay within the spirit of the rules, for appearances' sake. But- well. The little prince allowed her to wear her false tooth. She's within the letter of them, and that's enough. She reaches into her mouth, tugging out the ornate golden tooth there, and twists the top of it with all the delicacy that anyone could muster in the middle of a vampire fight.
It's in the middle of a transformation that she catches Alucard with the tooth barely a minute later. She'd grabbed onto his fur as a wolf to wrestle his jaws away from her and when he changes shape to loose her grip, she drives the fake fang into his neck.
And then she relaxes, letting herself stretch as the tooth injects its poison. It's done. ]
Oh, dearest. Aren't you proud of what you helped me achieve? I wouldn't have had that little toy without your help.
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The wolf is meant to get him out of a tight spot. Let him lung at her legs to disable her futher, and oh--
There's a sudden gasp. Alucard knows something has hit his blood stream that shouldn't be there, and that the neck as an injection site is very bad. It will spread the thing much too quickly. Moving will make it worse, and yet he does so within moments as a man.
He doesn't respond. He snarls a horrible noise and lunges at her, all nails and fangs and pent up decades, and he latches onto her arm to rip out a chunk of flesh. The movement is slower than it ought to be. He manages the tear, but after he spits it out, oh.
Fuck.
His hands aren't moving as fast as they ought to be.]
Inevitable.
[He hisses, and that? That is a noise and a codeword to the other two.]
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Dracula's blood really is irritating. No matter. It'll be hers, soon enough. She looks down at the blood flowing down her arm and flicks droplets of it from her hand. ]
I'm not sure I care for that tone. I asked your leave, did I not? [ She throws Alucard to the ground and kicks at the side of his head once, twice. At the third, she instead nudges her foot against the fang in his neck, driving it in further. Whatever aid he was hoping for, it hasn't arrived yet. ]
Answer carefully, dear. Do you mean to accuse me of violating our agreement?
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But he can still move his head. As painful as it is to have the awful thing in his neck, he can still move. Just a little. Just enough to dig his own claws into that foot, and sink fang in as well. He may not be able to draw out more awful flesh, but he can still deliver pain.
It won't buy him time for the other two to arrive. If they fail entirely, well, at least he can say he got a few licks on her.]
May my father's blood be just as poisonous to you as this concoction is to me then.
[He's refusing to give her an inch. But he's also hoping the other two are listening and carefully. They'll know what's happened.]
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This is childish, my prince.
[ When she moves close again, it's to grab his wrists, bringing them together to hold them above his head in one hand. And it's with actual purpose, rather than pure spite. Still a lot of spite, but there's some purpose there as well. She begins to drag him. Dawn will come soon, and whatever allies he has will miss him before long. Best to retreat somewhere more secure.
The building he's being dragged to smells of reeks of blood, a mixture of pig and goat and human and vampire. Even Carmilla finds it difficult to navigate through the maze of overwhelming stenches. Vampire senses do have their disadvantages. Some way in, once Alucard's eyes are used to the absence of moonlight, long heavy hanging figures become clear. Another moment, and they can be seen even more clearly. Pigs, about half of them. A few more are human. A couple are forged creatures, by the looks of them. One has long fangs. All are hanging from the ceiling by wicked-looking hooks. ]
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...for the first time, he doesn't want that.
Horrible moment for a break through as he's dragged through the streets. Hopefully anyone remaining in Braila can escape during the day. He hopes that the fight has bought some people their freedom. It's worth it, only for that.
They remain along the river though, to the section of the city where all the worst and the smelliest trades are. Alucard can tell a slaughter house by the scent, and oh God he understands what's going on.
Yet it works, doesn't it? It's a horror. It fits Carmilla's awful person that she has devolved into, feeding from her own kind.
Alucard doesn't struggle. But the hatred in his eyes remains.]
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[ She lifts Alucard by the collar with one hand, the other stroking the side of his face in mock-comfort. Something cold pokes between his shoulder blades. ]
You make everything so difficult for yourself.
[ With that she pulls down sharply, pushing the meat hook through Alucard’s chest to hang him there. ]
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Alucard's mouth won't work. He's screaming insults within and yet he is mute. Mute and now in absolute agony as the hook pierces through him.
All he can manage is a sharp attempt at drawing in air. Nothing else.
The other two have to be on their way. They have to have something clever. They have to.
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[ she gives a long pause in mock-thought, the kind that’s calculated to be just long enough to instil dread, and them moves close again. ]
...you don’t need arms or legs to metabolise the poison, now do you?
[ Her long claws dig deep into Alucard’s thigh, deep enough to scrape bone, as she sets about trying to clumsily cut through the limb with her bare hands. It’s horrible, grisly work. But then, then she stops.
Freezes, to be precise, staring up horrified at something that doesn’t appear to be there. ]
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This is how it all goes then. Carved up by Carmilla, who finally has the awful crown she wanted since Dracula was sealed away and Alucard was dragged into her care. Longer than he expected, but...
...he tries to fight back out of instinct. Attempts to kick at her even as long claws dig into thigh, and oh. Nothing should touch bone. She's nearly at an artery, and the blood spray is so dangerous right now.
He can't know what Carmilla sees when she looks up. Alucard can only guess that magic is at work, buying him time.
Yet what Carmilla sees is the face of Dracula, red eyes and blood dripping from his face, every inch of him contorted in fury. He has only one question on his lips.]
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, CARMILLA OF STYRIA?
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She stumbles back away from him, from Alucard, as the blood dribbles onto her face. And oh, just as Alucard cursed, it does burn. Like acid. ]
My lord. My- my lord. Please. [ Something stikes her back. She's stumbled back into one of the bodies. But she can't see them. There is only Dracula, and the darkness and the cold dead things trapping her here with him, and in the terror that freezes her veins it barely occurs to her that she could tear the bodies down with a wave of her hand. ] Please understand, I act only in love for our kind-.
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[It is the voice of compulsion, delivered in a tone colder than ice. Alucard, still stunned by that awful poison, doesn't move. Doesn't try to move. He can only feel the pain, and the frozen nature of his own vocal chords.
The apparition looms larger, blood red eyes burrowing into Carmilla's own.
You have betrayed your kind by turning your court into a farmyard, and viewing your own as nothing but meat. You have betrayed your own kind by planning to murder my son. You have betrayed your own kind in every imaginable way, and your name shall be the shame of your kind for millennia to come.
What would I do with you if I had a physical body, Carmilla of Styria? How would I imprison you? How would I prolong your worthless, miserable life so it was a torture and you begged to meet the sun?
What new laws must I write from beyond the grave?
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If. If you had a body. Not no, you? You are dead.
[ Her voice is weaker than she wishes it were, but she pushes aside another lump of meat, inching slowly closer to Dracula. ] Deader than any of us ever were. You abandoned us for your petty revenge, and I? I have ensured the survival of the best of our kind in the void you left. Culled the weak to bring power to the strong.
[ Dracula's blood burns. She can feel it tearing away her skin so much more keenly than she could feel Alucard's claws and teeth. But pain is not death, and so it does not frighten her. She will not cower before a dead man. ]
I have done what we have always done, my lord. I have taken. You left your son among wolves - I only bit.
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[The question is coupled with a sudden screech of agony. That? That would be Alucard, finally regaining motion in his person. The ability to express pain and oh. Oh it is deep and it is howling, for the combination of the meat hook and the injury to his legs are so deadly deep.]
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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. ]
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He has a voice now. He can screech properly. And he does so, voice echoing off of the walls and mixing with the furious noise the figure of Dracula makes as it lunges at Carmilla, fangs bared and snapping, ready to gobble Carmilla up.]
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[ She says, and at first she stands tall. He draws closer and closer and she does not flinch. Will not flinch.
But doubt creeps in. He is dead, yes. But death has never stopped any of them. She falters. Steps back again, until her back is against Alucard's chest and her weight swings him backward on the hook. ]
You are dead!
[ It's a screech of her own when she says it again, claws extended as she brings her arms in front of her face to protect herself against nothing at all. ]
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[Death has bowed to Mathias Cronqvist time and again. Now is no different. And as Dracula lungs, as Carmilla brushes against Alucard, the hook is dislodged and--
--Alucard falls free. He lands atop Carmilla in an awful, messy way, but oh. He can fight through the agony now. He can break his hands apart and free them. He can reach into his coat pocket and withdraw the awful little dagger they fashioned from Carmilla's fang.]
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It takes her a moment for that to sink in. And then it does, and the halfbreed is down from his hook. A trick. It was a trick. ]
You- [ She begins, pulling herself up. She lifts Alucard by the hole in his chest, fingers tearing into the wound, and then tosses him across the room. Humans and pigs and night creatures alike are torn from their hooks as she gives chase. He lands in a pile of cold bodies and then she is above him, all claws and teeth. ] -I have no more patience.
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--and he thrusts upward with all the energy he can give, a gutteral expression of all the fury and sorrow and everything inside of him being let out. The walls and bodies around them shake for the effort, and Alucard doesn't know if he cares. He only forces the fang dagger deeper and deeper into Carmilla's heart, until it is hilt in.
He yanks it out as quickly as he can. The wound should take. The wound has to take.]
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She doesn't die instantly. No, she thrashes about. Drags more corpses down on top of them. The weight of them pins her down (the weight of humans! pinning her down! that oughtn't happen) and then her death throes are against Alucard, fierce to the last but bruising rather than bone shattering and steadily growing weaker. And then they stop, and Alucard is alone in the slaughterhouse, trapped beneath Carmilla and a pile of strangers. ]
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