Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Categories:
Fandom:
Relationships:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 2 of 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆
Stats:
Published:
2020-03-05
Updated:
2021-05-10
Words:
28,993
Chapters:
4/?
Comments:
41
Kudos:
338
Bookmarks:
92
Hits:
7,169

𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Summary:

While searching for the thing that will cure the illness that threatens to kill her by the end of the week, a hybrid bumps into the last of the Belmonts and gets roped into fulfilling a prophecy with drunkard, a Speaker, and a dhampir too pretty for his own good.

(5/1/2021 edit: the first chapters have been edited and some scenes have been rewritten)

Notes:

season 3 came out today and i fucking love alucard, so take this nearly 4k mess and enjoy

EDIT: thEY DID US SO FUCKING DIRTYYYY UGHHH

Chapter 1: Amalgam

Summary:

When morning came, it seemed to be just as unforgiving as the night before, since she awoke with a silver sword just an inch from her throat. Feeling more annoyed than fearful, Maud’s lip curled over her grit teeth, and she slowly looked up at its owner. The man’s icy blue eyes regarded her, narrowed and untrusting as a frown tugged at his lips. A vertical scar marred the left side of his face, pink and thin where it began an inch above his brow and trailed down to the middle of his scruffy cheek. His dark hair was messy and unkempt, falling over the back of his neck, but Maud guessed she wasn’t faring any better. 

Notes:

(edited on 5/1/2021)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

She awoke some time before dawn, an uncomfortable ache in her bones and a throb in her temples. Maud sighed heavily through her nose and rose from her messy bed, her bare feet padding across the wooden floors. The woman rubbed the back of her neck while approaching the wash basin in the corner of the room. The water she poured into the bowl was cold, as expected, and made the tips of her fingers sting as she cupped some in her hands to wash her face. Maud grabbed the strip of linen resting on the edge of the wash basin and began the task of scrubbing her teeth clean. 

 

With something akin to hesitance, Maud carefully rubbed the cloth against the long, sharp canines in her mouth. She avoided her own gaze in the mirror that hung on the wall over the basin, refusing to acknowledge the person that would stare back, and dried her face with a towel after rinsing the linen. Maud traded her long shirt that served as a makeshift nightgown for a white collared shirt with a leather vest and dark trousers. The long white strands of her fringe — stark against the rest of her dark brown hair — tickled her chin as she sat on her bed and leaned forwards to slide her sock clad feet into a pair of boots. She gathered her hair in her hands and tied it into a knot at the back of her skull, white and brown strands framing her strong jaw.

 

 Exhaling a pained breath, Maud massaged her temples with her fingers and used her free hand to open the door. She closed it silently behind herself and ventured down the hall. She halted at the sound of soft weeping coming from behind the closed door of her mother’s bedroom. Shame pricked at her heart, and her gaze found the floorboards as she hurried to reach the front door. She all but yanked her cloak from the rack and fled from the house, throwing it over her shoulders. 

 

She tied its strings into a small knot, the gray fur on the cloak’s hood tickling the back of her neck. Maud took a hatchet along with a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and a large sack with her. She rested the wooden handle of the hatchet on her shoulder, trudging deeper into the wilderness surrounding her home. She walked until she started going further up the mountain and then some more, her breaths coming out in small clouds from the low temperature. The sun was struggling to peek through a thick curtain of gray clouds that promised nothing but more snow.

 

Maud walked to the old stump in the middle of the clearing and dropped her things at its base. She lifted the first log onto the stump, her fingers — sun kissed and calloused from years of hard work — becoming a tad wet from the morning dew on the bark. She dried her hands on her trousers before taking the hatchet in hand. Her lungs expanded within their ossein cage, filling up with the frigid mountain air as she breathed in deeply while lifting the cutting tool over her head. The hatchet was swung down with her next exhale, a white cloud that quickly dispersed, and the log was split into two pieces. The woman left the hatchet embedded into the stump and set the pieces of wood aside to replace them with another log, allowing her mind to wander. 

 

Careful fingers travelled down the length of her throat, prodding and massaging the sore flesh as they made their way to the middle of her bound chest. They continued their path down to her bruised ribs, and Maud clenched her jaw, focusing on the crackling fireplace instead of the screaming pain in her middle. The witch doctor’s knowing gaze bore into the side of her face. Her mother watched from the corner of the room, looking awfully small as she sat in an armchair and nervously wrung her hands in her lap.

 

“You’re a bit malnourished...” Greta noted out loud, prodding at the visible ribs showing through the skin despite the muscle in Maud’s torso. She lifted her head to look at Maud’s face once more, “Have you been eating well?” Greta questioned.

 

Maud ignored her mother’s accusing stare and tipped her chin to meet the dark skinned woman’s eyes. “Three meals a day. The problem is keeping them down.” She replied in a murmur, mildly afraid she’d cough if she spoke any louder than that. 

 

 A troubled look crossed Greta’s face, but it was quickly hidden behind a mask of professionalism as she moved over to examine Maud’s hands. Greta pressed her thumbs into the middle of Maud’s palms, and the hybrid clenched her jaw to hold back any noises, but she couldn’t help the twitch of her fingers. Maud highly doubted it went unnoticed by the witch, but even if the woman said nothing of it and gestured at her to open her mouth instead.

 

Maud swallowed thickly and opened her mouth, allowing the doctor to continue her examination, focusing on the state of her fangs. Greta looked mildly relieved at what she saw, pearly white teeth and relatively pink gums. Something in the back of Maud’s throat tickled and burned, and she jerked back to twist her head away as harsh coughs made their way out of her mouth. She covered her mouth with a closed fist and tried fruitlessly to smother them. The dry coughs became disturbingly wet as something travelled up her throat, coating her tongue in a coppery taste. 

 

 The coughs died down after what felt like an eternity, and when Maud took her hand away, she found that it was spotted in dark blood that looked almost black in the light from the flames. She grimaced, listening to her mother’s horrified gasp and watched Greta’s expression twist in dismay. The witch stepped back and rubbed the bridge of her nose, “...I don’t have much knowledge of hybrids and their needs, rare as they are. My actions until this point have been based solely on theory—”

 

 “How much time do I have?” Maud interjected, long since having grown tired of her friend’s eloquent ranting to disguise the way her voice started shaking.

 

“I don’t know. A week or two, maybe even less than that.” Greta replied quietly, as if isolating herself from the situation, and rubbed her face with her hand. “I’m so sorry.” She spoke and swiftly left the room, her long twists hiding her expression though Maud could smell the saltwater spilling from her eyes. She nodded to herself, resigned, and chose to stare at the floorboards rather than acknowledge her mother’s heart wrenching cries, muffled into the hands covering her mouth.

 

Maud tied the fresh cut wood together with strong strips of cloth and proceeded to place them inside the bag. The sun was higher up in the sky now, an opaque circle of light, and the cold stubbornly remained. The brunette let out a huff of air through her teeth, blowing the white strands from her face, and took the bow and quiver in her hands. Dried leaves crunched under her boots as she made her way past the treeline. Curling a finger under the white sleeves of her shirt, she rolled them up to her elbows lest they got stained.

 

She moved across the forest grounds with care, as silent as she could be, and drew a single arrow from the quiver. Maud focused on her hearing, her silver eyes slowly surveying her surroundings. Her gaze fell upon a stag, young and large, feasting upon roots and fallen fruit. She lined up the arrow and took aim, the feathers on the arrow brushing against her cheekbone. Maud exhaled softly, preparing herself to let go, when her vision swam and blurred. The ground spun under her feet and her hands shook terribly. Her weapons fell from her fingers — alerting the stag and allowing it to flee — while she stumbled and leaned against a tree for support.

 

Harsh coughs wracked her body, and Maud dug her nails into the bark of the tree, squeezing her eyes shut. The taste of coins flooded her mouth as her coughs became wet, phlegm and coagulated blood rising from her throat. The brunette groaned in misery and spat a glob of sickness onto the ground. She opened her eyes and wiped away the blood from her lips with trembling fingers, rubbing her palm against her dark trousers with a grimace. 

 

Maud straightened slowly, trying not to tip over as she regained her balance. She took note of the missing stag and cursed. Irritation simmering in her chest, she chose to abandon her weapons in the forest for someone else to find and marched back into the clearing to gather her supplies. Muttering curses and complaints under her breath, Maud made her way back to the village much quicker. The bag was dropped on the porch and Maud stomped her feet firmly to get rid of any dirt clinging to her boots before entering her home. 

 

It was quiet, she noticed in relief, meaning that her mother must have finally fallen asleep. That was for the best, Maud supposed. She’d much rather do what she was about to do without her mother lurking. She searched for paper and graphite around the house, staying away from the bedrooms. The hybrid tucked a white lock behind her ear and fell to her knees in front of the large chest pushed against the wall in the corner of the room, a few feet from the fireplace. In all her years, not once had she opened it by herself. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment, feeling like a naughty child about to do some terrible mischief, before prying it open with care and pausing at its contents.

 

Like she thought, there was paper and writing materials inside, but also portraits and sketches. Maud looked over her shoulder again, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and pushed past her nervousness. She took one of the portraits between her fingers, this one upside down, and slowly turned it. It had been done in oil paints, very well done and preserved. Her mother’s face, younger, smiled back at her from her place in a man’s arms. It was the first time she was seeing his face, Maud realized.

 

Luscious sandy brown curls, a few shades darker than hers, framed his angular face and complimented his fair skin. Cerulean eyes stared back at her in something akin to mischief, his lips spread into a grin that displayed pearly white teeth and a pair of long fangs. Maud was stricken with how much of herself she saw in this stranger. In the hard edge of his jaw, in the texture of his hair, in the shape of his nose, in his smile— suddenly she felt very, very ashamed. All these years she’d been tormenting her mother with the face of the man who had claimed her affections and vanished without a trace. Now Maud threatened her with the sudden and inevitable death of the child born from their love.

 

Maud frowned down at her mother’s pointed silver gaze and placed the portrait back into the chest. She took a sheet of paper along with a piece of graphite. Leaning over the table, the tip of the graphite ghosting over the blank paper, she stared. Her heart was pounding away in her chest, and drops of cold sweat began gathering on the back of her neck. Maud took her lip between her teeth, fangs digging into the soft flesh until she tasted fresh blood, and started writing before she could regret it.

 

Dear Mother,

By the time you wake, I will be long gone. I have gone in search of what Greta and I believe is what will cure me. Please, be patient and try not to worry. I will be back by the end of the week, hopefully accompanied. And, if not, I would like you to abandon this home and move on without me. Forget about me, and be free. Be happy. I love you, Mama.

Forever yours,

Matilda

 

Maud set the graphite down and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, letting out a shaky exhale in a vague attempt to stall her tears. She took one last look at the home she grew up in and fled. Maud set up a quick pace in favor of the wind so her mother wouldn’t be able to track her by scent. She didn’t dare look back. Her bones ached and her limbs quivered, but she kept running. 

 

“Maud— Matilda!”

 

Maud turned around with furrowed brows, her cloak swishing with her movements. Her fresh kill, a pair of rabbits, hung from a rope held in her left hand. Greta burst through the treeline, holding her skirts up with one hand while holding a thick book to her chest with the other. Her black twists were a mess, held back from her face with a plum colored cloth tied into a knot. That, and the shadows under her eyes, struck Maud as odd. Greta was a woman that took good care of herself no matter the circumstance, so to see her so frazzled was worrying.

 

“Greta.” Maud said in a hush, attempting to calm her as the witch finally reached her. She brushed the back of her fingers along Greta’s cheek, and the shorter woman let out a breath.

 

“It was there, Maud. I don’t know why, but they were behind the shelves—” Greta rambled uncharacteristically, going through the loose papers she held in her hands. They were filled with notes and runes and other scribbles that Maud failed to recognize.

 

Maud cupped the side of her face, giving up on her absentminded attempt of scenting the witch in lieu of calming her. “Greta, what are you talking about? What did you find?” She asked softly.

 

Greta took a slow, steadying breath, and looked up at her. “I think I found a cure.” 

 

Maud felt like ram had barrelled into her and knocked all the air from her lungs. She fumbled with her fresh skill so it wouldn’t fall from her grip, which had grown loose from her surprise. She ducked her head, white and brown mildly obscuring her vision, and gave the witch doctor her undivided attention. ”What do you mean you found the cure?” It came out more like a hiss, disbelief clear in her voice.

 

 Greta nodded her head once, adjusting the book and all her notes. “I mean exactly that. I found this in the library, hidden behind the shelves. I don’t know who wrote these or who hid them—” She paused and wet her lips with the swipe of her tongue. “But the answers are here.” 

 

For a moment, Maud could only stare at her in silence. After countless nights without proper sleep, after days of aching bones and harsh coughs and shaking hands, they found it. But, instead of the expected joy warming the chill in her bones, she felt the cruel claws of dread dig into the soft flesh of her stuttering heart. 

 

Maud pulled her hand away from Greta’s face, and rubbed the back of her wrist across her forehead as a defeated laugh slipped past her lips. “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like what I have to do to get it?” She asked, despite not actually wanting to know.

 

Greta smiled, a forced twist of her lips meant to lighten the mood but instead fed the dread inside her with too much teeth. “Oh, you’ll hate it.”

 

“Shit.” Maud sighed again, sounding awfully tired. She dropped her arm, her catch swinging from its rope in her other hand, and pressed her lips together. “Alright, out with it then. What do I have to do?” She asked begrudgingly, preparing herself for the answer she dreaded.

 

“All the notes and the journal were written in a ridiculous amount of languages, but it all says the same thing in the end.” Greta stated, tapping slender fingers on the worn leather spine of the thick book. “The hybrid in question must find the one who sired them,” Her smile became strained, and Maud’s mouth snapped shut with the click of teeth. “And drink their blood.”

 

“Oh, fuck me.”

 

Maud honestly had no fucking idea where she was at this point. She’d been following the subtle tug in the back of her mind and kept running through nothing but wilderness until nightfall. There were no inns or huts in the area, and she’d seen hide nor hair of any humans. In the end she found a large tree with protruding roots when her knees trembled and threatened to buckle under her exhaustion, slumping at its base and curling up in her cloak before letting sleep drag her into the void. 

 

It was the screech of something unholy that awoke her some time later, when the moon was high in the sky. Her eyes snapped open and fell upon a large beast, covered in matted fur and sticky blood the same color as its beady eyes. Its long fangs gleamed in the moonlight, and it lowered its skinny body to the ground, flaring its wings out to appear larger than it was with another shriek spilling from its bloody maw.

 

Maud pressed her back against the bark and shoved against the roots to straighten her spine. Her lips curled back in realization. This beast, smelling of rotting flesh and sulfur, was one of Dracula’s awful little monstrosities. Greta had spoken of them once after her travels, her voice filled with disgust as she spoke of Dracula’s hordes and his devil forgemasters. Their presence was usually tolerated by the magic realms, but too many of their creations tipped the balance of things. Dracula’s massive hordes stuck to villages and foul cities like Gresit, so Maud hadn’t come across them in the mountains. Until now, that is.

 

Her fingers tingled as her nails grew in length and sharpened into claws. She held her breath and grit her teeth, every muscle tense as the demon took sharp inhales of her scent and cocked its head in what seemed to be confusion. Finally, after a long moment of pondering, the ugly thing lunged. Maud jumped to the side and threw her arm out, digging her fingers to the knuckle into the beast’s vulnerable throat. It screamed and shrieked in pain, flailing its limbs desperately. 

 

Heart racing in her chest from an emotion she didn’t quite recognize, Maud shoved it against the tree and dragged her other hand down its face. She bared her teeth in a snarl in response to its pained screech and plunged her thumb into its eye socket with a repulsive squelch. Blood squirted out of the wound and raced down its furred cheeks as something popped under her claw. A spray of it splashed over her jaw and dripped down her neck. She caught some of the crimson droplets on her tongue reflexively, and her stomach tightened in a sudden, ravenous hunger that threatened to swallow her whole.

 

Maud latched herself onto the other side of its throat and dug her sharp fangs as far as they could go into its dark flesh before she could think of anything else. The creature shrieked next to her ear, bucking and kicking fruitlessly. She groaned out loud in satisfaction as warm blood gushed into her mouth, her teeth tearing off chunks of meat as her jaw worked more of its flesh into her mouth. Maud ripped her fingers and fangs out of its throat, eliciting another cry. Blood trickled from the gaping wounds, and she switched to its shoulder, tugging and clawing at it impatiently as if the creature would relent and feed her more.

 

The limb gave away soon enough, bones popping and snapping while muscle tore and came apart. The hybrid closed her mouth around the socket to catch the next gush of blood, relishing in the hellish wailing and weak struggles. Taking advantage of its open mouth, she bit its jaw and hooked her fingers into its maw, over its teeth. She bit and chewed on its flesh, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. She slowly pulled down on it’s open mouth until its jaw cracked and came off with a bit of resistance and a gurgled shriek. The hybrid yanked its head down and stuck her tongue into the demon’s good eye, fangs scraping the bloody socket. Its remaining eye slipped into her mouth after a harsh suckle, wet and squishy, the optic nerve stubbornly hanging on until she jerked her head away to break it off.

 

The creature’s body jumped and twitched in its last moments, gurgling and choking on its own blood. Feeling it go limp, Maud finally stopped and stumbled back. Her chest heaved with gasping breaths, and she found her belly full, finally agreeing with its contents. Exhausted, the hybrid decided not to think about what exactly the night creatures were forged from, and instead stumbled away into the roots of another tree while ignoring the blood drying on her face and hands. She turned her back to the dead thing laying on the ground and pulled her furred hood over her head. Maud leaned her head against the bark of the tree and closed her eyes.

 

She dreamed of blood and gore.

 


 

When morning came, it seemed to be just as unforgiving as the night before, since she awoke with a silver sword just an inch from her throat. Feeling more annoyed than fearful, Maud’s lip curled over her grit teeth, and she slowly looked up at its owner. The man’s icy blue eyes regarded her, narrowed and untrusting as a frown tugged at his lips. A vertical scar marred the left side of his face, pink and thin where it began an inch above his brow and trailed down to the middle of his scruffy cheek. His dark hair was messy and unkempt, falling over the back of his neck, but Maud guessed she wasn’t faring any better. 

 

A dark cloak with white fur was draped over his shoulders, parted by the arm that held the sword against her neck. Her eyes fell upon the family crest branded on the breast of his shirt, recognition making her heart race. Maud cursed her luck and locked eyes with the monster hunter, the Belmont. The man’s nose wrinkled at the sight of her teeth, and the blade came closer to her neck as his eyebrows knitted together.

 

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” The Belmont’s words were slightly slurred, slow and low as he spoke. Was he… drunk? The smell of booze and filth assaulted her nose a moment later, and a bit of tension melted from her shoulders. A drunk Belmont was still a dangerous thing, the bastards killed demons with their bare hands back in the day. If Maud made it out of this alive and healthy, Greta was going to pay. 

 

“Thought you Belmonts knew all about the supernatural.” Maud quipped before she could hold her tongue, and she curled her fingers into the dirt in reprimand. The sharp tip of the blade poked at her throat, the sting of silver making her tense and grow quiet.

 

“A vampire can’t travel by daylight, a dhampir wouldn’t have attacked a night creature like that, and a werewolf would have torn that fucker to bits and moved on.” Belmont listed off, slowly adding pressure to the blade at her throat. “You fucking ate its face and took a bloody nap until sunrise. So, I’ll ask again, what the fuck are you supposed to be?” He questioned, the words threatening and much more clear than before. The slur in his voice was gone, as if it never existed.

 

 The hair on the back of her neck prickled at that.

 

Or maybe that was the sickness.

 

Her throat tickled insistently, and her mouth filled with excess saliva. Maud’s body jerked against her will, startling the Belmont hunter into taking a step back, and she whipped to the side to heave and vomit a mix of black blood and phlegm. She coughed harshly, blinking away the tears in her eyes and spat out a clot. Her hood had fallen off and her hair was coming loose from its knot, white and brown strands obscuring her view. Maud tilted her head and stared at Belmont through the gap. His eyes were wide in shock and his expression was a cross of something like disgust and pity. The sword was no longer pointed at her, its tip angled towards the ground and held slack in his grip.

 

A bitter grin twisted at her bloody lips, baring pink teeth in his direction. “Since you want to know so fucking badly, I’ll humor you.” Maud rasped, her breathing disturbingly raspy. “I’m an abomination on the verge of death.” 

 

“A hybrid.” The word slipped from his lips in a disbelieving mutter, and he rubbed his face harshly with his hand. “Fuck me.” The man sounded so conflicted and done with life that she couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from her throat, sounding garbled and pathetic.

 

God, her life was a mess.

Notes:

buckle up, gang, this is gonna be a wild ride.

thanks for reading, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!