[ He closes his hand around Alucard’s, and it’s something he’s done a thousand times before but it’s never felt quite so much like being a kite string in a hurricane before. Not since Lisa left. ]
[ He stands first, pulling the blanket away and folding it before hanging it from the arm of the seat. Then he heads for the dresser. He picks up the crown, bringing it over. ]
[Alucard's hair has been hanging down all day, and he isn't going to fix that now. He simply makes sure that he has hair framing his face on either side, and that the rest of the hair in back is orderly. Once satisfied, Alucard does as instructed.]
[The crown doesn't weight too terribly much. It's enchanted to make it so, but the weight is present all the same. When Alucard lifts his head up, it's with the last little bit of himself before he has to be Everyone Else's Prince.]
[Fuck. Alucard's never seen that look on Trevor's face before, or at least he hasn't in recent memory. It's...it's a lot to look at and take in. It's so much that he feels his heart pound in a way that is definitely not normal, but Alucard ignores it for Trevor himself.]
[ Sure enough, it's not difficult to find the armour. It takes a little longer to adjust the straps of it and get it around his shoulders properly. Normally he might ask Alucard to help, with them being short on time right now, but it doesn't seem quite right to do so while the crown's on his head. It doesn't take too long anyway, just longer than it might with an extra pair of hands. ]
[Alucard watches. Waits for Trevor to ask for help but it just never comes to pass. That makes him frown. Dracula hasn't left yet and things are changing. He hates it. Deeply. And yet he says nothing, just stands there with his eyes on Trevor, awaiting a request that never comes.
Behind, until we come to the door. Let me open it, then walk through. I'll follow.
[ Appearances and practicality demand the same thing, here. It's important that Alucard is seen leading. It's more important that at no point is he out of Trevor's sight. He doesn't have vampire senses, after all. ]
[But not liked, based on how Alucard's nose scrunches up in distaste. He steps through the door, and there. They're in a corridor that leads down to the main gate.
Alucard's boots are silent over the stones. He moves with grace and practiced perfection, all ice and knowing that these moments are critical. He must be immovable stone, or else everything is at risk.
So he moves them both to the front gate, where most of the court has gathered already.]
[ At the last door, he moves to open it - both for appearances sake and so whatever lies behind can target him first. It's all second nature by now, the kind of thing that he's known he ought to be doing for years but that until now he could get away with relaxing on.
Not anymore.
There are murmurs as they approach. Dracula could silence them with so much as a raised finger, of course, but-
-it's important that he does not. That this is them, and not him. ]
Silence.
[ It's not a shout, but his voice carries. The chatter dies down. He has their attention, but it'll have to be Alucard who keeps it. ] Your Prince approaches.
[Internally, Alucard flinches. Outwardly he is statue-esque, all the more so when he takes his place at the very front of this group. All eyes are on him, and in turn all of Alucard is tense. Watching and waiting for someone to say or do something. But that never comes, and only a few moments later?
Dracula is already mounted on his hellish steed, fire in it's eyes, it's flank the darkest night. The Headless Horseman could be so envious. There's a snarl in the creature's mouth that demands to escape, but Dracula keeps the thing in check.
He is dressed as a man of his office, dark blood reds and blacks with silver accents expressed in fur and detail. His crown is a simpler one than one used in court, and the reasons for it are obvious: one does not enter the land of the fae that kingly. But oh there is iron in that crown, just as there is on the rest of the horse. He's riding a weapon into their lands, ready and capable of defending himself.
Dracula lingers for only a moment before addressing the group.]
I will return with my wife. Should you defy my son, who speaks with my voice and acts with my authority while I am gone, you will beg me to let you meet the sun. For those of you from foreign lands, that very same threat holds.
You shall greet me as appropriate upon my return.
[There. That's it. The horse know to move forward and so it does. No lingering good byes. No knowing glances. Only cold focus on the goal at hand as Dracula departs into the night.]
[ And like that, he's gone. Trevor watches, face betraying nothing, as the nightmarish horse fades into the night. Dracula's most loyal go with him, leaving a court of whispers behind him.
What follows is long and agonising and frankly not really interesting enough to justify how awful it is. At least if someone tried something stupid something would have happened. Instead it's hours of watching Alucard twisted into a shape that he was never meant to be. People want answers about how things will be in his father's absence. He gives those answers, almost identical to the word to those that Dracula must have given to the same questions only days before. When it ends, he's the one to dismiss the crowd. A few remain at the castle for another day. Most set off for their own territories.
They leave last, and he holds the door for Alucard before following. ]
[Everything is a blur. The questions that are asked get stock answers, ones that have been prepared well ahead of this. Alucard's able to make them not sound route. Give them a moment or two of consideration before replying. It works.
It keeps working until the wee hours of the morning. To those who intend to depart in the daylight, Alucard takes care of farewells. There will be a small departure feast tomorrow evening, and then all things will settle into a more normal pace.
But there. His room. Alucard waits until the door is closed to let his shoulders slump forward, and to automatically shed the heavy cloak draped over his shoulders.]
It can't be this exhausting every day.
[The cloak gets draped over the chest at the foot of his bed.]
He removes the neck armour, once again without asking for help, and sets it aside. His own shoulders haven't sunk yet, still standing like a soldier. ]
[Alucard can feel the attempt at humor die on his lips. But he still tries. That must count for something.
The crown comes off first. It has to, and Alucard's only careful with how he places it back down because it'll look bad if the thing is damaged in any way. Once that happens, the vampire is quick to shed garments.]
What are your plans for our sleeping arrangements?
[ He picks up the clothes, folding them. Because of course he does. It's- well. Clothes need folding no matter what's happening in the wider world. It's nice to do something normal. ]
You'll be safer if I'm elsewhere, but-
[ He sighs. Alucard doesn't need to be safer, does he? Not really. ]
[Alucard reaches for his night clothes, having stripped down to just his tunic and trousers. He's done this around Trevor plenty of times. Shirt goes away, night shirt goes on, and then the trousers are shed.]
If it's best you sleep in your room or best that you stay here, I'll accept it.
[ He watches. God, does he watch. And it's that, the watching, that gives him second thoughts. He managed to talk himself into it, didn't he? Talked himself into thinking it would be better for Alucard to have company, that that would be more important than his safety.
There's a tiny, sharp stab of disgust at that. Look at him, talking himself into believing he's doing what's best when it's just putting Alucard at risk in order to- ugh. ]
Never mind. The chair. Let me sleep in my chair, always sleep lighter there.
[Alucard moves to that chair first though, taking one of the thick furs from his bed and draping it over the side of the chair. It's a cold night, and for all that the castle is warm, there's something to be said for having a layer with some heft to it.
With that done, Alucard does climb into bed. Tucks himself in under all his blankets, only his head popping out,]
[ This is good. This is the ideal. The best balance between being close in case something happens but with enough distance to keep his head that he can manage.
And he still wishes that he could join Alucard. But- you know. If he wants to do something that's probably a good indication that that thing is wrong and he shouldn't be doing it. He lies back in his chair, pulling the blanket over himself. ]
[Morning comes. The guests depart, and in their wake, business begins anew. Alucard is already skilled enough at the practical daily challenges of leadership - administering harvests, deciding cases that local magistrates cannot agree over, and so it goes.
A number of cases involving priests starts to increase about a month in. Come the second month, it is a point of concern. A small one, but one of those things that could all too quickly become a real problem. Alucard has no time to tend to it either - winter stores are dwindling, and now the appropriate allocation of resources must take place.
Theodora's entrance into the castle is no particular thing of note. She is an ambassador, her comings and goings are not remarkable. The castle guides her up a flight of stairs to the room she knows very well as the intelligence office, and she knocks bracing herself for whatever lies within.
Dracula left his son's...Belmont...in charge. It will be interesting.]
[ Trantoul may well be his homeland, but he hasn't been there since he was very young. In dealings concerning their magical neighbours he has no more competence than the next man. The countries have a fraught history. Walter, the last king before Dracula's rule, was responsible for the death and eventual canonisation of Trantoul's young queen and Dracula's subsequent rise to power did little to prevent retaliation. The war between the countries has reached an uneasy peace in the last few generations, if one put at risk by Dracula's ban on the worship of Saint Sara.
The source of that fragile peace, the reason that it's survived Dracula's rage in the wake of Lisa's abduction, is the woman in this room.
He gestures to a seat, though he doesn't take one himself, and he knows that his body language is less calm than he'd like. Theodora is one of the few vampires who Dracula believed could be trusted absolutely, but she's also the matriarch of a family whose members span enough courts to make near anything happen Dracula is the mightier of them by far in terms of sheer power, but in terms of influence she could easily rival him. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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We’ll see to it that he has no reason to be.
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I believe you.
[But a few minutes march by, and Alucard feels his shoulders slink.]
I think I need to put the damn thing on and go downstairs.
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[ He stands first, pulling the blanket away and folding it before hanging it from the arm of the seat. Then he heads for the dresser. He picks up the crown, bringing it over. ]
Bow your head?
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[Alucard's hair has been hanging down all day, and he isn't going to fix that now. He simply makes sure that he has hair framing his face on either side, and that the rest of the hair in back is orderly. Once satisfied, Alucard does as instructed.]
We'll have to sit in court the rest of the night.
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My Prince.
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My Belmont.
[He kisses Trevor's forehead in turn.]
Do you have what you need?
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Everything I've ever needed.
[ It's warm, accompanied by the sort of tired-but-present smile that might almost make up for the fact that he follows that up by looking around. ]
But- uh. They probably will expect me to have the armour on. Let me find it.
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I think it's on or beside my dresser.
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Ready.
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And so there they are. Ready.
He opens the door.]
Do you have to walk in front or behind me?
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[ Appearances and practicality demand the same thing, here. It's important that Alucard is seen leading. It's more important that at no point is he out of Trevor's sight. He doesn't have vampire senses, after all. ]
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[But not liked, based on how Alucard's nose scrunches up in distaste. He steps through the door, and there. They're in a corridor that leads down to the main gate.
Alucard's boots are silent over the stones. He moves with grace and practiced perfection, all ice and knowing that these moments are critical. He must be immovable stone, or else everything is at risk.
So he moves them both to the front gate, where most of the court has gathered already.]
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Not anymore.
There are murmurs as they approach. Dracula could silence them with so much as a raised finger, of course, but-
-it's important that he does not. That this is them, and not him. ]
Silence.
[ It's not a shout, but his voice carries. The chatter dies down. He has their attention, but it'll have to be Alucard who keeps it. ] Your Prince approaches.
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Dracula is already mounted on his hellish steed, fire in it's eyes, it's flank the darkest night. The Headless Horseman could be so envious. There's a snarl in the creature's mouth that demands to escape, but Dracula keeps the thing in check.
He is dressed as a man of his office, dark blood reds and blacks with silver accents expressed in fur and detail. His crown is a simpler one than one used in court, and the reasons for it are obvious: one does not enter the land of the fae that kingly. But oh there is iron in that crown, just as there is on the rest of the horse. He's riding a weapon into their lands, ready and capable of defending himself.
Dracula lingers for only a moment before addressing the group.]
I will return with my wife. Should you defy my son, who speaks with my voice and acts with my authority while I am gone, you will beg me to let you meet the sun. For those of you from foreign lands, that very same threat holds.
You shall greet me as appropriate upon my return.
[There. That's it. The horse know to move forward and so it does. No lingering good byes. No knowing glances. Only cold focus on the goal at hand as Dracula departs into the night.]
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What follows is long and agonising and frankly not really interesting enough to justify how awful it is. At least if someone tried something stupid something would have happened. Instead it's hours of watching Alucard twisted into a shape that he was never meant to be. People want answers about how things will be in his father's absence. He gives those answers, almost identical to the word to those that Dracula must have given to the same questions only days before. When it ends, he's the one to dismiss the crowd. A few remain at the castle for another day. Most set off for their own territories.
They leave last, and he holds the door for Alucard before following. ]
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It keeps working until the wee hours of the morning. To those who intend to depart in the daylight, Alucard takes care of farewells. There will be a small departure feast tomorrow evening, and then all things will settle into a more normal pace.
But there. His room. Alucard waits until the door is closed to let his shoulders slump forward, and to automatically shed the heavy cloak draped over his shoulders.]
It can't be this exhausting every day.
[The cloak gets draped over the chest at the foot of his bed.]
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[ Please let it get easier.
He removes the neck armour, once again without asking for help, and sets it aside. His own shoulders haven't sunk yet, still standing like a soldier. ]
Tell me what to do.
[ How can I make this better? ]
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[Alucard can feel the attempt at humor die on his lips. But he still tries. That must count for something.
The crown comes off first. It has to, and Alucard's only careful with how he places it back down because it'll look bad if the thing is damaged in any way. Once that happens, the vampire is quick to shed garments.]
What are your plans for our sleeping arrangements?
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You'll be safer if I'm elsewhere, but-
[ He sighs. Alucard doesn't need to be safer, does he? Not really. ]
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[Alucard reaches for his night clothes, having stripped down to just his tunic and trousers. He's done this around Trevor plenty of times. Shirt goes away, night shirt goes on, and then the trousers are shed.]
If it's best you sleep in your room or best that you stay here, I'll accept it.
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There's a tiny, sharp stab of disgust at that. Look at him, talking himself into believing he's doing what's best when it's just putting Alucard at risk in order to- ugh. ]
Never mind. The chair. Let me sleep in my chair, always sleep lighter there.
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[Alucard moves to that chair first though, taking one of the thick furs from his bed and draping it over the side of the chair. It's a cold night, and for all that the castle is warm, there's something to be said for having a layer with some heft to it.
With that done, Alucard does climb into bed. Tucks himself in under all his blankets, only his head popping out,]
Good night, Trevor.
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And he still wishes that he could join Alucard. But- you know. If he wants to do something that's probably a good indication that that thing is wrong and he shouldn't be doing it. He lies back in his chair, pulling the blanket over himself. ]
Sleep well.
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[Morning comes. The guests depart, and in their wake, business begins anew. Alucard is already skilled enough at the practical daily challenges of leadership - administering harvests, deciding cases that local magistrates cannot agree over, and so it goes.
A number of cases involving priests starts to increase about a month in. Come the second month, it is a point of concern. A small one, but one of those things that could all too quickly become a real problem. Alucard has no time to tend to it either - winter stores are dwindling, and now the appropriate allocation of resources must take place.
Theodora's entrance into the castle is no particular thing of note. She is an ambassador, her comings and goings are not remarkable. The castle guides her up a flight of stairs to the room she knows very well as the intelligence office, and she knocks bracing herself for whatever lies within.
Dracula left his son's...Belmont...in charge. It will be interesting.]
You called upon your ambassador?
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[ Trantoul may well be his homeland, but he hasn't been there since he was very young. In dealings concerning their magical neighbours he has no more competence than the next man. The countries have a fraught history. Walter, the last king before Dracula's rule, was responsible for the death and eventual canonisation of Trantoul's young queen and Dracula's subsequent rise to power did little to prevent retaliation. The war between the countries has reached an uneasy peace in the last few generations, if one put at risk by Dracula's ban on the worship of Saint Sara.
The source of that fragile peace, the reason that it's survived Dracula's rage in the wake of Lisa's abduction, is the woman in this room.
He gestures to a seat, though he doesn't take one himself, and he knows that his body language is less calm than he'd like. Theodora is one of the few vampires who Dracula believed could be trusted absolutely, but she's also the matriarch of a family whose members span enough courts to make near anything happen Dracula is the mightier of them by far in terms of sheer power, but in terms of influence she could easily rival him. ]
The trip wasn't too much trouble, I hope.
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