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Part 2 of 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒆
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2020-03-05
Updated:
2021-05-10
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28,993
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4/?
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338
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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!

Chapter 2: Necropolis

Summary:

It was strange, really— seeing a Belmont talking nicely to a creature of the night such as herself. She’d been taught all her life that the Belmonts were nothing but merciless killers, hacking away at anything different without the exclusion of innocent children. But this man… he felt like pack.

Notes:

um, this was meant to be like 2 or 3k, but i got a bit excited to get to sypha and alucard lmao. anyways, hope you enjoy!

(edited on 5/1/2021)

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

Chapter Text

Belmont wasn’t all that bad, Maud decided after the man had sighed heavily like a tired father and sheathed his sword in order to help her to her feet. She saw the flash of muted surprise in his eyes when he realized she was just a bit taller than he was. He got over it soon enough and picked up the edge of his cloak and started wiping at the blood on her face, incoherent grumbling leaving his mouth. Maud watched him carefully, stiff in surprise, and he met her gaze when he was finished. Belmont pursed his lips and scratched at his jaw, letting out another sigh that was much lighter than the first. He offered her the last of his water, which she took after a moment of hesitance when he shook the container insistently. 

 

Maud drank slow sips of the cool liquid, letting it travel down her throat and wash away the taste of blood. “You had a sword to my throat with the intent of killing me a few minutes ago and now you’re helping me. Why’s that, Belmont?” She queried in a murmur after a moment of silence, passing him the empty container. 

 

“Felt wrong.” Belmont grumbled tersely, tucking away the container in the safety of his belt while avoiding her dulled silver gaze. “You’re sick, didn’t fight back even though you ate half of a night creature’s fucking face—”

 

“Please, don’t remind me.” Maud interrupted, frowning and rubbing the bridge of her nose in mild disgust. “I was hungry and delirious.” Belmont let out a huff of air at her words, something almost like a small laugh, and glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He sobered up soon enough.

 

“What are you doing out here?” 

 

The hybrid let out a long sigh and slid down to sit on one of the roots, Belmont following suit. “Have you ever actually seen a cross between a vampire and a werewolf, Belmont?” She asked.

 

Belmont turned his head to fix his stare on her, “Not really.”

 

 “That’s because we’re cursed. They always die at a young age, they get sick and their bodies fail. I was lucky to last this long.” Maud commented softly, taking a white strand of hair to twirl it around her fingers absentmindedly. “I have until the end of the week, maybe less. I recently discovered a loophole, and I’m planning on finding the person who holds the cure before that. Vampire’s blood— my father’s.” 

 

The man let out a low hum, elbows on his knees and back hunched. He’d been looking down at the dirt under his boots before lifting his eyes to stare at her again, expression guarded but still mildly sympathetic. It was strange, really— seeing a Belmont talking nicely to a creature of the night such as herself. She’d been taught all her life that the Belmonts were nothing but merciless killers, hacking away at anything different without the exclusion of innocent children. But this man… he felt like pack.

 

“What if you don’t find him by then?” Belmont asked in a quiet voice. She found it almost pleasant.

 

Maud shrugged a shoulder, already having thought of it more than too many times. “I’ll find a nice tree to sit under and sleep forever.” She replied, and a loose smile tugged at the corners of her lips. He frowned at her. “It’s fine, though. Means my mom can move on.” Maud added upon seeing the troubled look on his face.

 

“...I met a man once, a long time ago,” Belmont began as he looked into the distance, his mind somewhere far away. “He gave me shelter for a while, even though he knew who I was. I was a kid at the time, always sticking my nose where it didn’t belong, and I found out where he’d hide out during full moons.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head, dark hair tickling his scarred cheek. “Werewolves are innocent people cursed with madness and bloodthirst , unable to be cured.”

 

Maud curled her fingers into her palms, and found her voice after a moment of silence, “Did you kill him?”

 

Belmont shook his head. “Felt wrong.” He looked at her as he said it, the curl of his lip akin to a barely there smile. She found herself smiling along, a small little thing that matched his. “Trevor.” Belmont finally introduced himself.

 

She gave a curt nod, “Maud.” 

 

Trevor rose from his seat and brushed himself off before turning to face her. “Let’s get going then.”

 

“Pardon?” 

 

He offered her his hand, “I’m going to help you find your bloodsucker father so you don’t die.” Trevor explained and wiggled his fingers insistently, reminiscent of what he’d done with his container when she hesitated. It was cute, but that wasn’t the point.

 

Maud stared at him, brow furrowed in confusion, “Why—” 

 

“Feels right and I have nothing better to do. Now let’s get moving, Gresit is a few miles away and hopefully we’ll get there before lunch.” Trevor — that strange, strange man that smelt of sadness and felt like pack — continued and caught her by the elbow when she didn’t take his hand. Maud decided to humor him, letting herself be pulled up and guided through the forest. 

 

“I’m not made of glass, you know.” Maud finally said after the sixth time he turned his head to make sure she hadn’t tripped over anything. His hold on her arm hadn’t loosened in the least, though she was more amused than irritated. Could he feel it, too? “I’m a beast, not a lady.” 

 

He stopped in his tracks and looked over at her, arching a dark eyebrow. “Oh yes, the same beast who collapsed and almost vomited blood all over my boots.” Trevor shot back, and Maud stared at him.

 

“...Good point.”

 

Maud rubbed a hand over her face before pushing her bangs back and swallowing hard. “Do you even hear yourself, woman?” She finally burst, her voice a low growl. Her expression was twisted in something like a grimace, disbelieving.

 

Greta frowned and stared up at her, holding the thick book against her chest. “Don’t speak to me as if I were mad, Matilda.” She spat, indignant, and Maud rolled her eyes. “And yes, I know what I said, but it’s our only shot at getting rid of this damned curse of yours.” 

 

The hybrid paced back and forth, dry leaves and twigs crunching under her boots. Her heart stuttered in her chest and each breath felt constricted. “Have you told my mother?” Maud asked, setting her hands on her hips and turning her head to look down at the smaller woman. 

 

“No.” 

 

“That’s good.” She sighed in relief and nodded to herself, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “We won’t tell her yet, not until I’ve left.” Maud continued tersely and wet her lips with the swipe of her tongue, brushing against the fangs in her mouth. “Where do I find him? Cian Crowley?” 

 

“That’s the thing.” The witch looked disgruntled as she tossed her twists over her shoulder, “The last thing the coven heard about Crowley was that he’d left to join Dracula’s court.” 

 

True to his word, Maud and Trevor arrived at Gresit just in time for lunch. To put it lightly, the city was a fucking mess. The smell of shit and piss mixed with rotting flesh made her nose wrinkle. She gathered the ends of her cloak in her hand as they made their way into the city through the garderobes— a sort of plumbing system that allowed human waste to be thrown out into the surrounding area outside of the city. Fucking disgusting, but it was their only way in. 

 

Maud let go of her cloak, squinting at the rays of the midday sun, and followed Trevor up the stone steps. He lifted an arm to stop her and Maud raised an eyebrow when he took out a dagger from his boot, slowly approaching the guard, whose back was facing them. The man’s steady heartbeat and slow breathing indicated he was asleep. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the hunter by the hood of his cloak, giving a relatively soft tug that almost had him falling on his ass. Trevor turned his head to look at her, looking offended, and opened his mouth to say something, but she simply tapped her ear. He looked confused for the fraction of a second before the guard let out an awfully loud snore that reached his own human ears. 

 

“Oh.” Trevor let out with a small chuckle, sheathing the dagger in his boot. She gave a small snort, amused, and walked past the unconscious man to enter the nearly empty city. Maud had never been outside of the coven’s territory — composed of the village of witches and other creatures in the mountains — much less in a city, but Gresit wasn’t leaving much of an impression. Crumbling homes, cracked cobblestone roads, bits of blood and gore clinging to the walls, and eerily silent citizens cowering in makeshift shelters made with tattered cloth and wood.

 

A pair of men lifted one of the mangled corpses from the streets, guts spilling out and crawling with maggots, and started walking away with it. Out of morbid curiosity, she followed them with Trevor on her heels. The two men reached a bridge and moved towards the ledge, promptly tossing the body to the river below. Maud leaned over and saw that the river had been completely covered in countless bodies, the once clean water now a river of blood and human waste. Her lip curled over her teeth in disgust.

 

“Lovely.” She muttered, swatting at a fly that buzzed by her ear. Trevor stared down at the pile with a scowl, his eyes dark as he spat down a glob of spit at the macabre scene before moving on in silence. Maud stepped away from the ledge, following him closely and tugging her hood over her head. She kept her mouth shut, eyeing the bystanders out of the corner of her eye as they whispered to each other. The Belmont guided her through what used to be the plaza, now filled with poor merchants and filthy tents. Maud sighed out a small cloud, tucking her hands under her cloak for warmth as they neared one of the stands. Dried meats hung from iron hooks, and a plump woman was cleaning her knife with a white rag. 

 

“What will one coin buy me?” Trevor enquired, holding up the silver piece. The woman paused to look them over with eyes that seemed too small for her face, dull in color and nearly lifeless, her gaze lingering on Maud’s tall form a bit too long. Maud pressed her lips together and moved her gaze elsewhere.

 

“Bit of dried goat,” The woman spoke with a bit of an accent, tilting her head to look at them better. “Haven’t seen you two around here before.” She added afterwards, glancing at Maud once more. The hybrid let out a small huff through her nose, subtly tugging her cloak closed. The people of Gresit were used to small, dainty women rather than brawny ones with rough hands and tall statures that wore trousers and boots instead of pretty dresses and slippers. 

 

Who knows, maybe she even thought Maud was a man. 

 

“We’re just passing through.” Trevor said swiftly and nodded at the meat hanging from the hook. “I’ll take it, thanks.” 

 

“You want to pass through quicker,” The woman suggested, discarding the rag to slice a hefty chunk of the dried meat. 

 

“Yeah, I guess you’ve got some troubles here.” He replied, his icy blues sweeping over their less than wonderful surroundings. Maud’s eyes fell on the intestines poised on top of some tents like morbid decorations. Their situation could be described as trouble, she supposed. “Is there a defense effort?” Trevor asked.

 

The woman shook her head once. “Don’t need it. We’ve got a tribe of Speakers in the city.” She pointed out, turning her thick body to hand Trevor his portion of meat. “Once we’ve done what needs to be done, the demons will leave us alone.” She concluded, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing. 

 

Maud bit her tongue to avoid lashing out at the ignorant human, the familiar taste of coins flooding over her tongue when her fangs pierced the delicate muscle. The tissue healed sluggishly in her mouth, something she chose to ignore as Trevor set the coin on the counter and turned to offer her a bite. Maud shook her head and placed a hand over her stomach to signal that she was still full from her last meal. The man shrugged a shoulder and tore into the dried goat meat with his teeth. 

 

Their search continued around the makeshift marketplace, asking the merchants about Dracula’s hordes of night creatures. In the end, they all said the same thing— the hordes came each night and killed everything in sight, leaving only when the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon. Maud chose to remain silent, hidden under the shadows of her cloak, knowing that she already caught their unwanted attention with the sun kissed color of her skin, and how bad things would go if they saw the fangs in her mouth. There was one man in particular that said something that caught her undivided attention.

 

“There’s an old story, the Sleeping Soldier. They said he was a hero hundreds of years ago, but now he sleeps under the catacombs.” The man spoke, his brown eyes terribly kind and wrinkled at the corners. He had a strong heartbeat, steady as a river, and his scent was almost nostalgic— something like home.

 

“What for?” Maud found herself asking despite knowing she should keep her big mouth shut for once. If the man saw her fangs, he didn’t give much of a reaction other than the particular curl of his lip. It almost seemed like a small, knowing smile.

 

“To wait until he’s needed again, of course.” He continued, looking at her this time as she peered at him with dulled silver eyes from under her furred hood. “I think he’ll come back,” The man added with the nod of his head.

 

“Really?” Trevor asked, and Maud could see the soft smile on his face from the corner of her eye. 

 

The man closed his eyes for a moment, that kind smile still playing on his lips, “Oh, yes, but keep it quiet.” He advised in a hushed voice. “The new bishop hates the old wisdom. Dracula’s monsters come at night, but the bishop’s men come during the day. You know what I mean?” He enquired.

 

Unfortunately, they did. 

 

“You know what I think?” A young woman with a pretty face and a head of blonde hair asked when they stopped by her. “I think the Speakers make the Sleeping Soldier ill. We have no defenses, so of course Dracula’s bastards come over the wall every night!” She complained, gesturing at their surroundings with her slender hands.

 

“The bishop will sort things out.” Another man reassured, his posture confident with his arms crossed over his chest. He smelt sour. “This city has, not to put a point too fine on it, gone to hell. If the others will just do as he says when he tells us to do it, then all will be in order.” He explained, eyes awfully cruel and empty. Maud couldn’t get away from his tent fast enough. 

 

Orange light peeked, just barely, over the tops of the buildings to shine down on the alley they entered. Trevor offered her the last of his dried goat, waving it in front of her face with the same insistence as before. When Maud tried turning her face away, Belmont shoved it into her mouth. She grumbled, but chewed on the tough meat until it traveled down her throat while staring at him pointedly. The little bastard had a satisfied smile on his face. He was becoming pack and quickly. It was nice, this little moment they had, until it wasn’t.

 

Maud’s expression fell at the sight of a pair of priests cornering an elderly man dressed in blue, a Speaker. They gave him a hard shove in the opposite direction and the frail looking man nearly fell over before regaining his footing. “I warned you.” The bearded priest reminded, taking out a golden stave — which was ironically shaped like a cross — out of his black robes. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

 

 “You did not listen to me, sir.” The Speaker said in a thick accent, raising his hands in a passive gesture. 

 

The priest scowled and pointed the end of the stave at the Speaker. “Are you talking back to me?” He nearly snarled. 

 

The Speaker looked unbothered, gently pushing the stave away from his chest, “No, I’m merely talking to you.” He corrected the younger. “Anyone can see that we are not responsible for what befalls Gresit.” 

 

Maud stopped, one of her feet sliding across the ground as if to turn in their direction and Trevor hunched slightly, almost curling into himself by her side. “No, keep walking…” Trevor murmured, more to himself than to her, though he caught her wrist in a relatively slack grip.

 

“So, now I’m stupid?” The bearded priest asked, indignant. “I work within the light of God Himself, but you can see things I can’t with your magic?” He spat, looming over the poor man.

 

The Speaker, however, stared up at him placidly as if nothing were wrong. “There’s no magic, sir. We are here to help, that’s all.” He reassured.

 

The priest leaned down to get closer to his face, his lip curled in a sneer, “Speakers don’t help. Speakers are tainted. You attract evil, and you and yours were told to be out of Gresit by sunset.” He continued, reaching out with one of his filthy hands to grab the man’s face and angle it towards the sky. “And see? The sun is up. Take a good look at it, old man.” 

 

Maud growled under her breath, curling her hands into fists as anger bubbled in the depths of her chest. “Belmont, if you don’t do something, I will.” She threatened in a hiss and heard him curse quietly, his hand leaving her wrist. 

 

“Will killing an old man make you less scared of the dark?” The Speaker asked, a shockingly knowing tone in his voice. 

 

His aggressor pulled back his stave, preparing to hit him with it. “I don’t know. Maybe it will just make me feel better.” 

 

Trevor whirled around, his long cloak flaring out at his abruptness, and fished out his whip. He cracked it through the air with expertise, the leather curling around the stave — and the priest’s hand — before yanking back with a powerful tug. The golden stave clattered to the ground a few feet away and a smile curled at Maud’s lips at the smell of freshly spilt blood and the pained groans of the priest. The three men turned to look at the two figures standing at the entrance of the alley, the wounded man clutching his bleeding hand.

 

“Oh, hell. I’m sorry,” Trevor gave his empty apologies and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I was trying to snatch the stave out of your hand. How’s your finger?” He asked and raised his index finger, the rest curled around the handle of the whip, gesturing to it. Maud watched everything unfold from the sidelines, highly amused.

 

“What fucking finger?!” The priest shouted, rivulets of blood seeping from the stump his index finger used to be.

 

“That’s no way for a man of the cloth to talk,” Trevor chastised, humor heavy in his voice. “Why don’t you go and get that looked at?” He suggested, once again gesturing vaguely at his own, unharmed, index finger. 

 

“Kill those bastards!” The bearded priest ordered the bald, frightened looking one.

 

Maud tilted her head, setting her fists on her hips, “Now, why am I getting included?” She asked, a frown on her lips, even though deep down she knew she’d throw herself in front of whatever danger threatened the man she’d basically adopted into her pack already.

 

A loose grin tugged at Trevor’s mouth, “Look, I don’t like priests at the best of times. I mean— I really, really don’t like priests.” He still spoke humorously, but something in his musky scent went sour. “If you leave now, we’ll say no more about it.” 

 

The bearded priest’s face twisted in rage, “Kill them now!” He barked. For a brief moment, Maud considered joining, but she continued watching in a mixture of amusement and intrigue.  

 

“Last warning…” Trevor called and the bald priest looked back at his comrade, conflicted, and took a long knife out of his sleeve. Maud stared at it, mildly surprised, and Trevor raised his eyebrows. “Oh, now, that’s a funny thing for a priest to be carrying. That’s a thief’s knife.” He pointed out, his grin widening. The priest hunched, twirling the knife with an awful lot of expertise, and lunged. “Seriously? I’m out of practice, but I’m stone-cold sober.” 

 

Maud caught the Speaker’s eyes and ignored Trevor’s playful taunts as he fought the priest on nimble feet. She carefully skirted past the dueling men, her cloak fluttering lightly, and approached the old man. He looked up at her for a moment, calm as one could be, before they both turned to watch the spectacle. Trevor cracked the whip one last time, this time coming away with the bald priest’s left eye. The man screamed, clutching at the empty socket, and Maud’s stomach clenched at the sight of steady streams of red spilling from the gaps of his fingers. She drummed her fingers over her abdomen, frowning.

 

Trevor stared down at the bearded priest with a scowl on his lips, the shadows of the alley making him seem all the more threatening. “Pick him up. Take him back to your church. Don’t bother this man or his people again.” He ordered in a firm voice. The priest scrambled to his feet in a flurry of wounds and blood, supporting his companion as they fled the alley. 

 

The Speaker sighed, “The violence wasn’t necessary, sir.” He pointed out, sounding tired. Maud closed her eyes for a moment, fending off a knowing smile. This man was a diplomat, a peacekeeper who loathed all things involving unnecessary conflict and violence— not at all surprising, really. That’s just how most Speakers were. “But,” He chuckled, and Maud perked up at the soothing sound, “it is appreciated.” 

 

Gresit still had a chance, it seemed.

 

“I am the elder of the Codrii Speakers. Thank you for your kindness and, I think, your restraint.” The Elder spoke softly, giving Maud a meaningful glance. The hybrid smirked.

 

“You’re welcome, Elder. Can we accompany you to your train?” Trevor enquired, icy blues sweeping over their surroundings for a moment. 

 

“We have settled here in Gresit. No caravans.” The older man explained shortly before gesturing to the road with an aged hand. “But I would be glad for your company on the way to our lodging.” He added, guiding them out of the blood splattered alley.

 

“How many are you?” 

 

 The Elder tucked his hands into his sleeves, resting them over his torso, “Eleven. Although I insist we be counted as twelve.” He replied to Trevor’s question. “One of us is missing, you see.” The man’s expression became grim, his scent changing into something bittersweet. Like the smell of the prairie after a thunderstorm. Whoever was missing was clearly someone very important to the Elder. They came across the lonely house, far from the others and not in the greatest conditions, but still better off than the ones by the plaza. “This is where we live. Please, come inside. Meet my people.”

 

Maud stepped inside after the Elder, feeling safe enough to let her hood fall to her shoulders as Trevor closed the door silently behind them. There was only one window and very little furniture, the room’s darkness chased away by a number of flickering candles. “Elder, we were worried about you.” A young man said, standing up from his makeshift chair. “I told you it was too soon to go outdoors.”

 

“And I told you it was necessary to offer aid to the people.” The Elder replied swiftly. “However, I was met by some of the Christian priests.” 

 

 The young man’s brown eyes widened slightly. “Are you alright?” He asked, concern muddling his features. 

 

The Elder turned to smile at Trevor and Maud, “Thanks to these two.” He replied. “Although I fear there may be trouble ahead because of it.” 

 

“What did you do?” The young man questioned Trevor.

 

Belmont scratched his scruffy cheek, “I’m a little out of practice. They’re both still alive.” Trevor answered, a hint of humor in his voice. His expression fell slightly at the young man’s glare.

 

“You used violence on them?!” 

 

The Elder placed a hand on his shoulder. “The younger people believe that words can speak louder than actions.” He explained, a small smile on his lips. 

 

Trevor ran his fingers through his hair, “Well, you’re Speakers. Words are what you do.” He said understandably. Maud gave a short nod, agreeing but unable to speak for the moment. She didn’t know how the rest of the Speakers would react to the revelation of what she was.

 

The young man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You know of us?”

 

The hunter walked over to the window, “My family’s always been on good terms with Speakers, although my father once got into a fight with one.” Trevor explained, resting his arms on the stone sill and leaning his head out to feel the cool breeze. 

 

“True Speakers do not fight.” The brunet pointed out.

 

The Belmont hunter turned to face him, leaning his back against the wall, “When he tried to convince a Speaker to have your oral history transcribed on paper.” He continued, a loose smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

This seemed to amuse the Elder as much as it amused Maud. “Ah, yes,” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “We are quite protective of our ways. History is a living thing. Paper is dead.” The elderly man explained before asking, “Would you like something to eat?”

 

Maud shook her head and Trevor perked up, “I’d prefer something to drink.” He said, like the drunkard he was.

 

The Elder smiled, “Arn, bring our friend some water.” 

 

Trevor’s hopeful smile fell, “Oh, the— never mind, then.” He said, and Maud turned away, placing a closed fist over her mouth to smother her quiet laughter. The man kicked her ankle with his foot, but it did nothing to quell her amusement. Did he seriously think Speakers would have booze? “Maybe you can just tell me why you’re here.” He asked in a louder voice, brushing past her. 

 

“Speakers live anywhere they deem right.” Arn shot back, smelling like burning pinewood and sour irritation. “You must know that.”

 

“I know Speakers are nomadic tribes.” Trevor replied while tilting his head slightly, unbothered. “You seem to have been here a while.” 

 

“How do you know that?”

 

It was Maud who answered Arn’s question this time, mindful of her fangs, “The locals are blaming you for the attacks.”

 

Arn frowned, “That’s the church’s doing. They need something to blame.” 

 

“To divert people from the truth,” The Elder began, agreeing, “That the church itself brought Dracula’s hordes down on the land.” 

 

Maud’s expression softened as sympathy pawed at her heart. “For murdering his wife. They burned her at the stake, claiming her to be a witch.” She murmured. The coven had mourned her for days on end, despite most of them not knowing her directly and the fact that she was not really a witch. She could remember the forget-me-nots, the lilies, the lavender candles and the lullabies. Lisa of Lupu was a kind soul taken too soon.

 

 Trevor let out a deep sigh, “Shit.” 

 

The Elder closed his eyes and nodded. “That is indeed one way of putting it.” 

 

Belmont turned on his heel to face the Speakers, “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

With a sigh of his own, the Elder took a seat and placed his hands on his knees, that melancholic scent emanating from his being. “There is no structure left in Gresit. No doctors, no aid. If you know Speakers, then you know we can’t turn away from those in need.” He told them, sounding terribly conflicted. “That is why we are here.” 

 

Arn came to their side, “May as well tell them the rest.” He said softly, that angry scent gone. 

 

Closing his eyes, the Elder began, “In Speaker history, there is an old story. A legend, probably.”

 

“I like stories.” Trevor piped in, and Maud nudged him gently with her foot, careful not to be too rough with him. 

 

“The story says that a savior sleeps under Gresit, a great hero who sleeps until he is needed, until there is darkness upon the land.” The Elder continued. 

 

“We’re heard this one before. The Sleeping Soldier.” Trevor interjected, sounding like he believed nothing that was coming out of their mouths. “It’s a local legend. Sounds weirdly convenient to me, if you know what I mean.” He said, setting his hands on his hips and giving them an unimpressed look. Maud rolled her eyes. For a Belmont, the bastard really had a closed mindset.

 

“Exactly how much do you know about this, sir?” The Elder asked with an arched eyebrow, his voice still calm but Maud knew his patience must be wearing thin. 

 

“I’m a Belmont,” Trevor revealed, lifting his cloak to reveal the crest on his shirt. “So I know you’re a group of nomadic people who gather knowledge, memorize it, carry complete spoken histories with you.” He listed off, letting the cloth hide his shirt once more. “I also know you carry hidden knowledge and have practitioners of magic in your tribes.” Trevor added, shooting Maud a meaningful glance.

 

“I thought your family had vanished.” Arn confessed.

 

“If vanished is the polite way of saying exiled, hated, and burned out of their ancestral home then…” Trevor let out a sharp breath, cooling his features. “Yes.” 

 

The Elder smiled softly, “Then you know something of magic, and so you know that just because we found a story in our past, it doesn’t mean it originated there.” He hinted. Ugh, Maud hated it when old people spoke in riddles instead of just coming out with it. “The wisest and cleverest of our magicians know that dying is not absolute… That it is possible to hear stories from the future.” 

 

Before Trevor could open his insensitive mouth again, Maud stepped forth. “The missing Speaker. Did they go in search of the Sleeping Soldier?” She asked in a hush. 

 

“Yes. That one went into the catacombs under the mausoleum west of the church.” The elderly man said, his eyes closed and that melancholic scent back tenfold. “Has not returned.” Maud didn’t miss the way he omitted saying their gender. A woman, then. Speakers were very protective of the women they travelled with. 

 

“Isn’t there a head man in Gresit you could go to?” Trevor questioned.

 

The Elder shook his head. “He died in the first horde attack. Our searches have been unsuccessful.” He opened his eyes, staring at them almost pleadingly. “So, what are your plans?” 

 

“They can wait.” Maud blurted, making Trevor whirl around to stare at her in disbelief.

 

“No, they can’t.” He frowned at her, narrowing his icy blues. “We’ll get some more food and water, and move on.” Trevor told her rather than the Speakers, his voice stern. Her instincts bristled at the clear challenge. 

 

Maud turned to face him, her eyebrows knitting together. “You’d help me, a stranger, just because I reminded you of someone, but not a city full of innocent people?” Maud found herself snarling at him. Trevor didn’t back down and scowled at her.

 

“They brought this on themselves.” He ground out through grit teeth. “My family were the only people who could’ve fought Dracula and his army, but they didn’t want us. They wanted to fight the darkness on their own terms, good luck to them.” Trevor spat, clenching his jaw. 

 

Maud sighed heavily and rubbed her temples to fend off an oncoming headache. He was challenging her without knowing, and she would never even dream of acting upon the things that were whispered in the back of her mind, but his stubbornness was getting on her nerves. He was pack, yes, but he was being a resentful brat. “Trevor,” She began, vaguely aware of the Speakers’ watchful eyes, “I know what the church did was wrong, but the innocent people of Wallachia didn’t have a choice.” 

 

Trevor shook his head fervently, “There’s always a choice.” 

 

“The bishop’s word is law around these parts.” Maud said in a quieter voice, taking a calming breath. “You know that just as well as I do.”

 

“We can’t afford to stay, Maud,” Trevor insisted rather than denying her statement. He turned to look at the Speakers, “Don’t be crazy. Leave now, head south and hook up with another train.” He told them.

 

“Trevor—” 

 

“It’s his grandchild!” Arn burst, interrupting Maud and ignoring the Elder’s harsh call of his name. “I don’t care! It’s the Elder’s grandchild down there. Who we can’t even bury.” The young man’s words only served to confirm Maud’s suspicions. “It’s not our way to just leave our dead unattended to.”

 

The Elder gave him a somber stare, “We stay for the people of Gresit.”

 

“Yes, we do. But we also stay because we hope—”

 

“So, you’re staying to die with the good people of Gresit, not just because it’s a good thing to do, but because you don’t have your grandchild’s body?” Trevor interjected, his arms crossed over his chest. 

 

 “If you want to put it that way.” The Elder confirmed.

 

 Maud turned to look at Trevor, a pleading look in her eyes. The hunter let out a small groan and dragged a hand down his face. “If we go down there and recover your grandchild’s body, will you please leave? Just wait outside the city, give your aid to the survivors when the night horde just finally rips through the place.” Trevor ordered in a strong voice, though he’d been defeated. 

 

Relieved, Maud nodded her head. “Moving immediately would be preferable. We heard people talking in the marketplace, the church has them convinced that you’re to blame for what’s happening.” She explained, this time not bothering to hide her fangs. “They plan to come for you at nightfall. We’ll retrieve your grandchild’s body if you promise to leave before then.” 

 

“If that is the condition of your recovering, then so be it.” The Elder gave in, relief clear in his voice. 

 

Trevor picked up an apple from a basket and brushed past Maud. “We’re leaving now.” He grumbled, giving the fruit a rub before taking a bite. “Don’t go walkabouts looking for people to give support to. Stay right here.” The man said sternly, pointing at the ground. He twisted the doorknob, opening the wooden door a sliver. 

 

“Belmont.” The Elder called softly, stopping both travelers in their tracks. “It is not dying that frightens us. It is living without ever having done our best.” He explained, and it was then that Maud truly understood the Elder, the ghost of a smile lifting the corner of her lips.

 

“I don’t care.” Trevor, that liar, muttered and left the Speakers’ temporary home. Maud gave a curt nod before following, closing the door behind herself. Snow was beginning to fall from the skies, their breaths coming out as small clouds. After a moment of silence, the cool breeze tugging at their clothes and hair, he spoke, “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you refuse to stay behind?”

 

She gave him a toothy grin, “You learn quickly, Belmont.” Maud said, pleased. Trevor hung his head for a moment, letting out a long, suffering sigh. 

 

 “Let’s go.”

Notes:

poor trevor, don’t you know maud is just as stubborn as you are?

Chapter 3: Bestir

Summary:

She knew she should be going the other way, heading up instead of further into the catacombs, but there was something nagging at her. Like a constant pressure in the back of her mind, insistent and impatient. It had to do with that monstrous side of hers, she knew. If that side was fighting so desperately to find whatever is hiding within these catacombs, despite the illness weighing them down, she might as well comply. They gifted her Trevor and Sypha, after all.

Notes:

covid, college and writer’s blocks happened.

take this, i hope it’s to your liking.

(edited on 5/1/2021)

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

Chapter Text

The cold breeze whistled in their ears and tugged at their cloaks, playing with the mist that lingered in the cemetery. The large trees loomed menacingly over both of them, their gnarly branches — void of leaves and color — twisting this way and that in their attempt to reach for the sun that was hidden by thick gray curtains made of clouds. Snow crunched under their leather boots, littering the muddy soil and the old mausoleum. All in all, it made for a mildly disturbing scenery, Maud noted after her dulled eyes swept the area. She made it a point to push the heavy stone doors open with very little difficulty, flashing Trevor a smug, fanged grin over her shoulder. The man let out a huff and rolled his eyes before stepping into the building. 

 

Stepping into a mausoleum, although long since abandoned, felt odd for someone like her, if not wrong. It was supposed to be a place where humans buried their loved ones under the protection of their Lord in hopes of reuniting in the afterlife. Which is why Maud’s brow furrowed when her eyes fell upon the demons carved intricately onto the walls, their gaping mouths spread into wicked grins filled sharp teeth resembling daggers and their hands curled into dangerous talons. Why the hell would they put such things inside of the building made for the children of God? Maud pursed her lips. The church made no bloody sense—

 

“Smell anything?” Trevor’s question dragged her away from her thoughts, his deep voice echoing in the empty church. He was looking at her expectantly with an arched eyebrow. Heat crawled up her neck, some of it settling on her cheeks and the tips of her ears in her embarrassment. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

 

“Ah, right. Give me a moment, my nose isn’t what it used to be.” Maud admitted quietly, wetting her lips with the nervous swipe of her tongue. She let her eyes fall closed as she took a deep breath through her nose, filling her lungs to their maximum capacity.

 

She held it there for a moment before exhaling slowly, prying apart the myriad of smells from one another. There was Trevor’s scent — musky and manly with a hint of stale booze and old blood — and the mausoleum’s dusty, humid smell. But, there was also the soft, feminine scent of lavender and roses, still relatively fresh in comparison to the rest. Maud turned her head in its direction, breathing it in once more, and opened her eyes. Relief melted the tension from her shoulders with the knowledge that her senses were not completely gone.

 

Trevor followed her stare to the hidden entrance, disguised as another wall besides the statues. His lips lifted into a soft smirk, and Maud wasn’t sure if he was silently praising her or just mocking her nervousness. Perhaps both. That fucker. She blew a white curl from her face, unamused. The hybrid crossed the room and reached the passage in a few strides, getting a good grip with her calloused hands to hoist herself up. She’d already lifted herself halfway, her feet already set on the demon’s head to go through the passage when Trevor’s hand wrapped around her ankle, her cold skin greedily absorbing the warmth of a packmate even through the layers of clothing. Maud stopped in her actions, suppressing a shudder, and stared at him in question. 

 

“Careful.” He murmured and those warm fingers tightened just barely before he let go altogether. She nodded, ignoring the longing in her chest and the cold ache in her joints. Maud peered into the darkness and saw an inclined path rather than stairs. The air within it was still, the cold drafts of air replaced by a constant warmth. Maud slowly slid her feet in and took a deep breath before pushing off the entrance. She slid down the smooth stone, her cloak whipping around behind her as warm air caressed her cold cheeks. It took a handful of seconds before her feet made contact with even ground, the long garment fluttering around her as she delved deeper into the dark halls. Trevor fell into step behind her, the sound of their footfalls bouncing off the stone walls.

 

The second pair of footsteps halted, making Maud turn around to see that Trevor had stopped to look at the third torch on the left side of the hallway. It was misaligned and damp at the stop, Maud’s nose wrinkling at the smell of— “Fresh oil.” Trevor voiced, taking it into his hand. He took out a small knife from his belt and struck the wall, the sparks causing the top of the torch to ignite. Maud squinted her eyes at the sudden light and turned her head away. She vaguely heard Trevor mutter a small apology over the pounding in her temples.

 

Maud waved her hand dismissively, “It’s—” Dull silver eyes fell upon the pipe traveling up the wall and into the ceiling. “Fine…” She trailed off with the tilt of her head, eyebrows pulled together in confusion as she approached the pipes. She placed a chilled hand on its surface, no signs of rusting in sight, and momentarily relished in its warmth despite her surprise. “It’s warm.” Maud pointed out while placing her other hand on the pipe. She tried not to sigh in relief as the constant ache of her joints alleviated and turned her head to look at her equally confused companion, “Why is there a piping system—”

 

Something rustled a short distance away, and Maud jumped back just as Trevor unsheathed his sword. The hybrid swiped her tongue over her lips and flexed her fingers in a vain attempt to keep the blood flowing properly. She threw one last glance at the strange pipe before cautiously following after the Belmont. “I can hear you,” Trevor called out as they slowly went down the steps, “I’m armed, and a lot less happy than you are… so you best stay well out of our way.” 

 

Maud stopped in her tracks when the Speaker’s scent grew dangerously thin, and hesitated. She grabbed Trevor’s shoulder, her fingers curling into the soft white fur on his cloak to stop him. “Wait, the Speaker’s scent is faint here. We need to go the other way.” Maud spoke in a hush, worried that she’d lose track of the Elder’s grandchild and mildly afraid she’d alert whatever creature was lurking around in the shadows. 

 

Trevor stared into the darkness while adjusting his hold on his sword, the fingers of his other hand tightening around the torch until his knuckles became the color of untainted snow. “Alright.” He finally spoke while turning on his heels. A thunderous crack sounded from somewhere under their feet and the stone steps shuddered. Maud met his wide eyes and grimaced.

 

“Shit.” 

 

The floor cracked and crumbled, sending them plunging into the room below. Her breath got caught in her throat as her world tilted, that godawful squirming feeling in her organs back with vengeance. Amidst the flailing and the falling debris, Trevor’s arm had looped around her waist, mindful of the sharp weapon in his hand. Their boots slammed into the ground, and Maud let out a small breath at the stability, but didn’t straighten her spine from their hunched position. 

 

“Ha! See that?” Trevor grinned smugly, the arm looped around her waist squeezing pointedly, “Reflexes like a cat.” He pointed out with the arrogant jut of his chin, the flames of the torch casting a rather charming glow to his face.

 

She found amusement replacing the nausea and she didn’t dare fight off the grin that curled at her lips. Their little moment was short lived, however, when the floor gave out under them once more. A scream was ripped from their throats this time, the plunge being much deeper than their previous fall. Trevor’s torch was lost somewhere when they hit one of the pipes, only to continue their descent at an alarming speed. Something in the back of her head screamed at her, and Maud found herself tucking Trevor into her chest and taking the brunt of the fall.

 

It hurt less than she thought it would, but the air left her lungs in a rush nonetheless. She couldn’t help the grimace that twisted her lips and furrowed her brow, her eyes squeezed shut as she lay waiting for the stars to disappear from when she hit the back of her head against a slab of stone. Blood had begun trickling from the cut, a little thing that would sluggishly knit back together soon enough. The sound of Trevor’s groaning ensured that he was indeed alright, and it made her discomfort less of a problem. The Belmont also confirmed the fact that he was too fucking good for this shithole of a world when he immediately rolled to the side to avoid crushing her down with his weight and started checking her over like a fretting mother. A laugh that was more like a wheeze left her lips. 

 

Trevor set his hand at the base of her neck, warm fingers ghosting over her pulse, “Are you alright?” She found his voice extremely soothing as the stars dissipated and she could open her eyes. God, did he even know what he was doing?

 

“M’fine,” There was a nasty little rasp to her voice that indicated that no, she is not fine and something is definitely broken. Trevor’s expression twisted further, concern clear in those icy blues of his. Maud let out another small huff and waved him away as she heaved herself up, joints popping noisily as she went. She rubbed the back of her head with careful fingers, mindful of the knot holding back her dark brown tresses, grateful her human companion — Belmont hunter or not — hadn’t taken the brunt of the fall. While he probably would have walked it off, it would definitely present to be a problem in the future. Her healing, even as sluggish as it was now, was still better than his.

 

Her head tilted at the sound of buzzing and she flinched when the oddly shaped torches on the walls flickered to life. Maud blinked slowly as her eyes adjusted to the brightness and allowed herself to gaze upon the source of light. Recognition blazed in her mind, bringing forth the village’s tales of vampiric technology. The electricity hummed, travelling through hidden wires woven within the walls to power up the lightbulbs and illuminate the corridor. Her momentary awe was snuffed the second her eyes fell upon the numerous human sized statues littering their surroundings, one of them smelling strongly of lavender. 

 

“What the hell…” She found herself muttering, her upper lip curling back at the strange sight of bits and pieces of human anatomy turned to stone. The Elder’s grandchild stood right in the middle, robes frozen in their billowing state and hands held up protectively in front of a shocked expression. 

 

Trevor marched forwards and tapped the top of the Speaker’s head with the tip of his sword, the sound of steel scraping against stone filling her ears. “Either someone left the statue of a Speaker down here, or…” The Belmont trailed off as heavy footfalls slowly approached, making the ground tremble under their boots. 

 

Goosebumps rose on every inch of flesh in her body, and her dull senses sharpened considerably in alarm. Maud turned to face the creature stomping towards them in large strides with its bulky limbs, its mouth falling open to reveal jagged fangs while its single eye glared down at them. “Might be the cyclops, I think.” The hybrid breathed.

 

Another layer of the cyclops’ eye slid open with a disturbingly wet sound and a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of pinks, blues and greens swirled in its sclera. Maud would have taken a moment to admire the dangerously beautiful spectacle if not for the fact that it would literally turn her to stone. She dove out of the way despite the protests of her joints, her cloak whipping around at the speed of which she moved to hide behind a column. 

 

“Stone-eye cyclops. Right out of the family bestiary.” Trevor spoke breathlessly in something like disgruntled awe from a few yards away, taking shelter behind another column. “God shits in my dinner once again.” Fuck, in any other circumstance that would’ve been hilarious, but now was not the time.

 

Maud inhaled deeply, clenching her jaw and rolling her shoulders. She’d fought witches, demons and werewolves— never a cyclops, but there was always a first time for everything. The cyclops prowled closer, and all air left her in a sharp hiss as she rolled out of its way, a stony hand slamming down on her previous spot. It was like a game of hide and seek, she thought humorlessly as she took another place to hide, albeit one to the death. Movement from her right made her turn her head to look at Trevor, who pointed at the Speaker before gesturing at her. Ah, he wanted her to take the Elder’s grandchild out of the way. But what of the cyclops? 

 

Seeing her expression, he lifted his sword and gave a firm nod. All right then. Maud steeled herself and slowly slid around the column, muscles tense at the odd, maddening silence. Fuck, she grimaced; feeling like prey was disturbing. With that thought, she sprinted across the corridor and hefted the statue into her arms as she went. There was a grunt and the sound of something soaring through the air before embedding itself into tough skin, Trevor attacking the creature most likely. Maud skid to a stop in the safest corner she could find without leaving her companion by himself in the corridor.

 

“Come on! Come on! You’re dead! Stop and notice you’re dead…!” Trevor’s frustrated shout reached her ears, and Maud turned, only to groan at the sight. Trevor scurried out of the way like a measly mouse as the cyclops fired another beam of colorful light in his direction, the sword stuck in its chest. Muttering a string of curses, Maud set the Speaker against a wall and rushed back to the middle of the room.

 

“Belmont!” Maud barked, successfully gaining the cyclops’ attention and dodging its stocky limbs as she distracted it. Trevor jumped out of his hiding place, alarmed. “Go for the fucking head, you eejit! Why the hell would you go for the chest?!” She damn near screamed at him in disbelief and irritation, ducking out of a giant hand’s way. 

 

Trevor’s whip lashed out with the flick of his wrist, wrapping around the hilt of his sword and tugging it free with a small spray of blood. The cyclops stumbled, but made no noise other than a low growl from deep within its throat. Maud found herself baring her teeth on instinct at the sound, snarling in response. “Maud, lift!” Trevor called as he flung his sword up and broke into a sprint. 

 

Maud bent at the knees and laced her fingers together to act as a stepping stone, heaving the man up as soon as his foot fell on her palms. Trevor flipped in the air with surprising grace and kicked the hilt of his sword, sending it flying with enough force to bury its blade more than halfway into the cyclops’ eyeball. The tall creature collapsed just as Trevor landed on his feet with the gentle flutter of his cloak. Maud cracked her knuckles and flexed her fingers while Trevor coiled his whip to place it back on his belt. 

 

“We make a good team.” Trevor said after a moment of silence, dusting off his cloak. 

 

The hybrid tied her hair into a knot again after most of it had fallen during the struggle, leaving the mostly white section to frame her face. She glanced at him, mirroring his little grin, “Mm, not too bad, I think.” The sound of gagging and chunky liquid splashing on to the ground made them pause. The Speaker’s hood had fallen off, revealing short strawberry blonde hair and soft, feminine features. She’d been right, Maud noted to herself, letting her cloak fall closed over her front.

 

The pretty Speaker straightened her spine, wiping her lips with the back of her sleeve and staring at the two of them with wide, vivid blue eyes framed by thick lashes. Trevor grunted in the back of his throat, turning to remove his sword from the cyclops’ dim eyeball. “I wish Speakers wouldn’t do that.” He voiced, not at anyone in particular as he inspected the bloodied blade and flicked the offending liquid off with the twist of his wrist.

 

The young woman’s brow furrowed, “What?”

 

“Dress the girls like boys.” Trevor elaborated slowly, sliding the weapon into its sheath. Maud pressed her lips together and absentmindedly thumbed at the hem of her trousers. 

 

“It’s safer when we travel…” The Speaker trailed off as she moved closer to them, looking around the room with a confused expression on her face. “What happened?” She questioned. 

 

Maud nodded in the direction of the corpse behind herself and looked down at her petite form with dull silver eyes. “You came across a cyclops.” She said in reply, mindful of her fangs. 

 

“Turns you into stone with its eyeball and feeds on your terror while you’re trapped in your own body.” Trevor added in a low voice, looking as uninterested as one could be. 

 

“We moved you out of the way so you wouldn’t be used as a glorified stepping stone.” Maud continued in a small attempt to lighten the mood, shrugging her shoulders.

 

 The smaller woman, a little spitfire it seemed, crossed her arms over her chest. “That would’ve been very rude.” She pointed out in her thick accent, and Maud didn’t even attempt to hide her amusement while Trevor started at that with an indignant mutter of excuse me? “Who are you two anyways?” Oh yes, she would fit in quite nicely. 

 

Trevor sighed deeply through his nose, “We met your grandfather. We came down here to recover your remains so the Speakers would go to safety.” He vaguely explained.

 

Her face fell and she uncrossed her arms to point to the path behind her with a slender hand, “But the Sleeping Warrior is still down here.” The Speaker interjected. 

 

“There is no Sleeping Warrior,” Trevor began as he spread his arms, annoyance seeping into his voice. “Just a cyclops waiting for people stupid enough to go looking.” He turned to stare at her, eyes hard. “It’s a trap for gullible Speakers. You’re not popular around here.” With that, he turned on his heel and started walking away. 

 

The Speaker’s expression hardened, stubbornness written all over her face. Maud’s instincts screamed at her to calm the girl. “The old wisdom says the tomb is guarded—”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Trevor waved a hand through the air as if fiscally batting her words away and turned his head to look at her from over his shoulder. “Come on. Time to go home. Your people think you’re dead, the least you could do is set that old man’s mind to rest.” 

 

Maud’s eyes darted between them, watching as the Speaker’s expression softened at his words. “He thinks I’m dead…?” She asked softly, finally coming to understand the severity of the situation she was in.

 

The hybrid pursed her lips, “Technically, until a few moments ago, you were.” Maud reminded her, kicking a small pebble with the tip of her boot. 

 

“Killing a cyclops is the only way to restore a victim. Didn’t think we’d manage it.” Trevor added, rather unhelpfully, and eyed his companion from the corner of his eye. Maud let out a small grunt. 

 

The Speaker wrinkled her nose, “Who are you?” 

 

“Trevor. Belmont.” He said his last name like an afterthought, looking anything but pleased as he basically spat the word out with venom. Maud shifted her weight and crossed her arms under her cloak, nibbling on the inside of her cheek as she waited for the inevitable. 

 

“But the Belmonts fight monsters.”

 

There it was, Maud closed her eyes. 

 

Trevor clenched his jaw and turned his icy blues to the Speaker. “I’m out of practice.” He shot back, temper slowly rising. “Let’s show you to your grandfather, and then you can come down here and get killed again. Deal?” It sounded more like a statement than a question, but he asked nevertheless. 

 

“Very well.” The Speaker spoke in a clipped tone, closing her eyes for a moment before signing and opening them as she placed her hand over her heart. “I am Sypha Belnades.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“I do.” Maud interjected, stepping closer to Sypha. The hunter was already hers, and the little Speaker felt just as important. Trevor shook his head and kept walking, rubbing the side of his head. “After all, it’s not every day I come across a Speaker magician.” She added in a quiet voice, giving the younger woman a small smile. 

 

Sypha gasped softly at the sight of her fangs, awed but not fearful. Maud could smell it clearly; the magic coursing through her veins, simmering just under the surface of her skin. She was young and inexperienced, her magic wild and unrefined, but it had great potential. “You… didn’t tell me your name,” Sypha breathed, blinking her eyes a few times in a row as if to make sure what she was seeing was true.

 

Maud found herself chuckling, “Call me Maud.” She requested and set a hand on Sypha’s shoulder to guide her after Trevor just as the smell of fresh blood reached her nostrils. “And, please, don’t look back if you wish to leave without an upset belly.”

 

Sypha didn’t dare, following instructions without protest, and the beast inside her purred in delight. A fine addition she would make. 

 

 And, in the end, despite the occasional harsh coughing fit and the worried yet stern glares from Trevor, Maud found the trip worth it when Sypha dove into her grandfather’s open arms and buried her face into his chest like a child. She even felt a tinge of homesickness when the elderly man lifted his head to give them a grateful smile and thanked them both genuinely. His scent was no longer ridden with sadness, replaced instead with joy that made his aged heart beat just a bit stronger. 

 

“You’re welcome.” Both she and Trevor spoke at different times, but they meant it all the same. 

 

“I failed to find the Sleeper.” Sypha spoke up, closing her eyes as she pressed her cheek against the Elder’s chest, “I’m sorry!”

 

That tender smile never left her grandfather’s face as he pulled away from her and set his hands on her shoulders, “Hush now, my angel.” 

 

“I very much doubt there’s anyone down there.” Trevor spoke up, interrupting the soft moment. “It’s probably a booby-trapped legend. There’s someone wriggling with pleasure in his coffin right now thinking of people like your girl walking into the cyclops he left down there.” He continued, and Maud reached up to rub the bridge of her nose, sighing softly. For all the chemistry the two had, they had a shit way to deal with it.

 

Sypha turned to him with a mild glare. “Or perhaps there is something down there so important that it must be guarded by monsters.” She pointed out, moving closer in quick, determined strides. 

 

Trevor stared back at her, unamused, “Your Messiah isn’t down there.”

 

“And what makes you so sure?” Sypha questioned. 

 

“You Speakers carry information down through the generations. We Belmonts pass things down as well.” Trevor revealed, his voice loud enough to be heard by all of the room’s occupants. “Do you remember what we saw down there?” He asked Sypha, who averted her eyes in silence. The hunter walked around her, looking over the Speakers, “Metal veins pumping hot liquid? Torches that light by themselves— that exactly fits descriptions written by my great-grandfather. Descriptions of the inside of Dracula’s castle.” 

 

Maud scratched her cheek and stared at their astonished expressions. “The whole underground of the mausoleum is filled with vampiric technology, so unless you are searching for one, then there is probably nothing for you there.” She said in agreement, mildly apologetic as she sensed their disappointment. It was etched on every single one of their faces, clear as day. The Sleeping Soldier had been their last hope. “Now you may focus on packing your things and moving on, like we agreed.”

 

“Oh, yes, of course.” The Elder stammered as he regained his composure. “Will you join us until then? To give me the chance to repay what I owe you.” 

 

She opened her mouth to refuse, but the words were stuck on the tip of her tongue. Leaving that girl behind— leaving pack behind was never an easy thing. Instead of saying anything, she dragged a hand down her face and rubbed the back of her neck, shooting Trevor a small grimace. The man frowned back and went to speak, only for Sypha to beat him to it. “At least stay so I can make something for your cough.” She offered, slender fingers curling around the edge of Maud’s cloak to gently coax her further into the room. 

 

“I suppose I could stay for that.” Maud murmured, letting herself get pushed down on a stool by warm, careful hands and resisting the urge to scent them.

 

“I’ll come back later.” Trevor muttered, sighing tiredly as he turned to the door. “See if you can find some beer for our trip.” He called out over his shoulder, but Maud’s attention had already been stolen by one of the male Speakers placing a warm hand on her cold cheek.

 

“Mm, that’s nice,” Maud grinned, eyes fluttering shut as she basically melted into his touch, purring in delight.

 

Trevor rolled his eyes and closed the door behind himself.

 

Maud felt much better after a massage and the tea Sypha had brewed for her, sitting in a corner while watching the Speakers pack their few belongings and answering their curious questions. Can you walk under the sun without protection? Yes. Do you drink human blood? No. Where do you come from? The mountains on the border of Moldav. Are there more like you? Probably not, no… The hands running through her hair to inspect the discoloration in the front were pleasant, making her eyelids flutter as sleep threatened to take her in its grasp. She must have dozed off for a moment because when she opened her eyes, she saw that the Speakers were sitting in a circle around her.

 

She was rubbing her eyes when Trevor marched into the building, looking anything but pleased. The Elder obviously didn’t notice since he smiled at the man, “Trevor, join us!”

 

Trevor gave them a terribly unenthusiastic smile, “Sure.” He agreed and added, in the same tone as he walked into the room, “By the way, you’re all going to die.” 

 

Maud rose from her seat, alert, “What happened?” She asked firmly. 

 

The Belmont crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his back against the stone wall. “The current bishop of this place is… Well,” Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s beyond insane. Over the top and into new lands of snake-fuckingly crazy, and convinced that the salvation of Gresit lays in you people being torn to pieces by a mob.” He ranted, frustration clear in his voice. 

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Maud exclaimed with a scowl, racking a hand through her long bangs. “And they’re on their way, I take it.” She stated rather than asked and hissed at Trevor’s nod. “Damn. You need to get you out of here. Now.” The hybrid said sternly, turning to look at the Speakers with a piercing gaze. 

 

“By the bishop’s logic, you have to die before the night creatures conduct their next raid.” Trevor pointed out bluntly when no one made a move to stand. 

 

The Elder glanced down at his granddaughter with a thoughtful expression before looking up at them again. “What happens if we stay and survive?” He queried.

 

“Then the night creatures will tear through this place and kill everything in sight. Whoever is left will blame you and, well,” Maud trailed off with a frustrated sigh, rubbing her temples. “It’ll start all over again.” 

 

“This feels wrong.” The Elder spoke, sounding awfully tired, and let his eyes fall closed for a moment. “To be driven out by a lie that will doom these people, it is not a Speaker thing.” His voice trembled with emotion, but it was still strong. 

 

Trevor bristled, jaw clenching and eyes turning into icy daggers. “We had an agreement.” He bit out through grit teeth. Maud shifted her weight from one foot to another, silent as she stared at the Elder with dull silver eyes. 

 

“I don’t think it’s a Belmont thing, either.” The old man continued softly, as if he had not been interrupted. Trevor’s expression twisted in silent fury, his heart hammering away in the confines of his chest. 

 

 “I don’t care,” The hunter spat, waving a dismissive hand through the air as he stepped closer to the circle of Speakers. “You need to leave, and leave now.”

 

Sypha rose to her feet, raising an arm to point out the window with a determined expression painted over her delicate features. “I don’t think we can leave these people, not in their time of need!”

 

Trevor moved closer to her, glaring heatedly, “These people believe you’re causing their time of need!”

 

“Only because they are being misled by the Church.” The Elder interjected, his soft voice serving to calm them, if not mildly. The old man stood and looked at them with his wise blue eyes, still so gentle and filled with kindness despite how he’d been treated by the very people he wanted to protect. “Does one run away when someone tells lies about them? What has the Church said about the Belmonts? That you have been corrupted by dealings with the supernatural, that you mock God, that you are a threat to the common good, and that evil follows you wherever you go.” He listed off, his voice unwavering and stern. “And what did you do in the face of that?”

 

The Belmont hunter looked at him with his icy hues, his dark eyebrows knitted together. “I didn’t run away.” 

 

“Really?” The Elder asked softly, a hint of mocking in his voice. “So, what are you running to? Did you have a destination in mind?”

 

Maud turned her head to look at Trevor, only to find him already staring at her with a conflicted look in his eyes. Her eyes darted to the window, pupils constricting at the orange rays of the setting sun, and she hesitated. She probed at her fangs with the tip of her tongue and scuffed the toe of her boot against the floorboards, scratching at her cheek. She thought of agreeing with Trevor, of leaving this damned city behind and moving on before it was too late and she was too weak to go against Crowley, but guilt coiled around her heart like barbed wire and tightened with each thought. Finally, she let out a soft growl that was soon followed by a small, resigned huff. 

 

“I apologize in advance,” Maud spoke as she turned her head away from the window to face the Speakers, and stared directly at the Elder. “But we have no time to waste on life lessons. The sun is setting and you have to find some place to hide while we and your magician take care of the problem.” She cast Sypha a brief glance, before Trevor’s furious expression came into view. 

 

“We don’t have time to deal with mobs and hordes— you don’t have time! We go. Now.” He said sternly, jaw clenched tightly and icy blue eyes hard. 

 

He meant well, she knew that, but the darkest parts of her mind bristled at his tone. “I won’t let them fight alone. I refuse to move on with my life knowing I could have done something.” She said strongly, unwavering. 

 

“You’ll die fighting Dracula’s armies then.” 

 

“I could die either way, you know that. If not at the hand of my father then you’ll watch me wither away at the end of the damn week.” She shot back, tired of skirting around the fact that she might not even come close to finding her sire in time. Trevor said nothing, but she saw the way the corners of his mouth quivered and his eyes softened almost imperceptibly. Maud spoke again after a moment, her voice much softer, “I’d rather go down fighting for what is right than curled up in a corner, thinking of what could’ve been as my blood seeps from my pores.” 

 

They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity, and she watched the myriad of emotions that flashed across his gaze. She was a stranger to him, no one significant, but she knew there was something about her that reminded him of someone. Maud wasn’t so sure this was about repaying a debt to the lycaon species, to the man that had saved him all those years ago. This was something far deeper than that. This was about pack— about a bond that ran deeper than blood.

 

Trevor’s hand went to his belt and gripped his sword, calloused fingers curling around the hilt. 

 


 

“I swear, I just saw it move.” 

 

Maud rolled her eyes as she swept the room and halls of the catacombs one last time. “It’s been dead for a while now. Whatever you think you saw is either a figment of your imagination or a postmortem spasm.” She called out over her shoulder, eyeing one of the many trails that led further into the labyrinth. 

 

She’d managed to make a deal with Trevor, but at a price. She would have to take the Speakers to a safe place while Trevor and the Speaker Magician took care of the mobs and hordes. Once she was sure that the Speakers were out of danger, she would join them. Most of them had found spots where they could huddle together, but the rest were jittery, warily eyeing the corpse of the cyclops as if it would jump up and devour them at any moment.

 

The Elder came to her side with a gentle smile on his aged face, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, my friend, but I believe it is time for you to go.” He hummed lightly. 

 

A loose smile tugged at her mouth, and Maud glanced at the Speaker from the corner of her eye. “Will everything be alright with you here?” She queried softly.

 

The elderly man nodded his head, tucking his hands into his long sleeves, “You’ve done more than enough.” He reckoned. 

 

A small laugh, a tad more bitter than she intended, slipped past her lips. “There’s no such thing as enough.” Maud murmured while thumbing the grey fur on her cloak. “You know where to head if anything were to go sour. We will meet again.” She gave her farewells with the small nod of her head before adding as an afterthought, “Hopefully.” There was a little smirk on her face, darkly humorous. 

 

He didn’t seem to find it as funny as she did, though.

 

Not in the least, judging by the disapproving shake of his head that reminded her of dear Aunt Ena whenever she caught Maud terrorizing the livestock back when she was just a pup. How nostalgic.

 

Maud moved quickly, steps silent as she followed the trail she’d been eyeing earlier. She knew she should be going the other way, heading up instead of further into the catacombs, but there was something nagging at her. Like a constant pressure in the back of her mind, insistent and impatient. It had to do with that monstrous side of hers, she knew. If that side was fighting so desperately to find whatever is hiding within these catacombs, despite the illness weighing them down, she might as well comply. They gifted her Trevor and Sypha, after all.

 

There was nothing out of the ordinary— nothing she could sense aside from that feeling, anyways. The air was still and stale, warmer than outside. All scents she could’ve tracked before were terribly old, mixing with the smell of dust and thus making them impossible to follow. Following the supernatural counterpart of a gut feeling seemed nonsensical, but here she was. 

 

Disappointing Mother even when she was not near.

 

Steady fingers pulled the thread through the skin, expertly knitting the flesh together while also dabbing up the blood with a disinfected cloth. Maud grunted softly at the sting and Aunt Ena uttered a quiet apology, not looking up from her work. The hybrid pressed another cloth against the cut on her brow, avoiding her mother’s glare by fixing her gaze on the carpet. 

 

“You promised me.”

 

“I know.” Maud replied tersely and pressed the cloth harder against the cut, both to stem the bleeding and to obscure her mother’s view of her face.

 

“You told me you would never set foot outside this mountain again.”

 

The next time the needle broke through the skin, she grit her teeth and hissed out a sigh. “I had to do it.”

 

Alba let out a scoff, casting a sideways glance at the dark skinned witch watching them warily from her seat, and shook her head. “You lied to me, Matilda. You told me you were going hunting when you were actually running off because of some hunch!” She spat the word, eyes lighting up gold with her anger. “You owe this outsider nothing! And yet you go, fighting without thinking. You could’ve gotten killed—”

 

Her mother’s words ignited flames of rage within her, because Greta wasn’t an outsider, not anymore, she was pack. But no amount of rage would ever justify what she was about to say. “I’m dying anyway! Why the hell does it matter if I just speed up the process?!” It slipped out, loud and angry and she didn’t actually mean it, but even Aunt Ena had gone still and Maud knew her words could never be taken back no matter how much she wished for it.

 

The look on her mother’s face would haunt her forever.

 

Her train of thought was cut off by a ruckus up ahead. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her fingers curled into claws, her next steps slow even when her heart picked up the pace. She couldn’t smell anything over the cloud dust and dirt the rubble had kicked up. Maud evened her breathing and, finally, stepped out of the hallway with bared claws and a growl.

 

Wide icy blue eyes stared back at her in shock.

 

“Oh.” Maud cleared her throat, tucking her hands into her sides to let her cloak hide them as it fell closed. “I thought you were taking care of the mob, what are you doing down here?” She looked between Trevor and Sypha, who was dusting off her robes. 

 

The Belmont gave her an even stare and slowly pointed up. She followed his finger and found herself staring at a rather large hole in the ceiling that revealed that the hunter and the Speaker had fallen down several stories, not unlike Maud and Trevor’s first time in the catacombs. 

 

“Again?” Maud found herself saying, torn between amusement and concern. Her eyes swept over their forms quickly and found them relatively unharmed aside from the lovely bruises that would surely bloom over their skin by morn. “Is this a Belmont curse I should know of?” She asked lightly, only half joking, and continued walking when the insistent tug at her brain became too much to handle.

 

“Ha. Ha.” Ah, so he got it then. Trevor didn’t seem amused in the slightest, with that painfully short and sarcastic laugh, but he’d heard the humor in her voice. That counted for something, right? Sypha was trying, and failing, not to smile even with that amused twinkle in her eyes. 

 

The chuckle building in her throat died suddenly at the sight of blood red carpets and golden accents leading to a coffin located in the back of the room, bathed in artificial light. Thin, golden pipes stretched across the black tile and connected to both the coffin and the crystal containers filled halfway with blood. That feeling, that little tug, was more insistent than ever now. 

 

There was a loud clunk and the sudden whirring of machinery coming from behind her, causing Maud to turn her head in surprise. She met Trevor’s wide eyes and looked down to find that his foot had sunken in, undoubtedly activating whatever this machinery was. “I didn’t do that.” He said quickly despite his alarmed expression, his eyes darting between her and Sypha.

 

“You really need to watch where you’re stepping.” Maud muttered as the lid of the coffin let out a loud hiss of steam. The lid slid ever so slowly to the side before falling with a heavy thump. Her heart started beating faster. There was a pause of two, maybe three seconds. She didn’t even breathe. 

 

Finally, a figure floated up from the coffin. It was a slow, effortlessly graceful action. With skin like porcelain and hair of spun gold that shone under the artificial light, he looked like an angel. However, the gnarly scar crossing his torso and the containers behind him proved he was anything but. 

 

He bowed his head and his hair fell over his shoulders to obscure his face like a golden curtain. One of his hands was placed over his heart, right on the thickest part of the scar. Whoever had stricken him had aimed to kill him.

 

Her insides twisted into knots at the thought.

 

“Why are you here?” He’d asked this softly, but it seemed terribly loud in the silence of the room as his fingers curled into his palm. 

 

A smile curled at Sypha’s lips, adding to her awed expression. “The story— the Messiah sleeps under Gresit! The man who will save us from Dracula.” She recited from her heart, nearly breathless.

 

Maud didn’t miss the hunching of the so called Messiah’s shoulders and the twitch of his knuckles against his scar. His head tilted, and if not for the small movement of his hair, she wouldn’t have noticed, “And you? Are you in search of a mythical savior?” His voice grew mocking.

 

“I fell down a hole and she,” Trevor gave Maud a brief glance, the sudden nervousness in his scent so alarming that she found herself stepping closer, “can’t follow instructions.” There was a forced smirk on his lips even as little beads of sweat collected on his temple.

 

Ha.” Maud let out, a heavily sarcastic thing even as her eyes never strayed from the blond. Trevor could complain all he liked, but their sense of humor was one and the same, bad timing included.

 

Sypha shot both of them a look before schooling her features and facing her Messiah. “Dracula is abroad in the land. He has an army of monsters.” She began, her voice taking a desperate lilt. “He’s determined to wipe out all human life wherever he finds it.” 

 

“Is that what you believe?” He questioned.

 

Trevor scoffed quietly. “That Dracula’s released his horde in Wallachia? That’s a fact. There’s no belief involved.” He pointed out, a quiet sort of anger in his words. “But that’s not what you’re asking.” 

 

“No.”

 

The hunter’s heart started beating faster, and Maud slowly adjusted her footing. “You’re asking if I believe you’re some sleeping messiah who’ll save us, and no,” Trevor’s twisted into a scowl, “I don’t.”

 

“Belmont!” Sypha exclaimed, shocked.

 

“I know what you are.” Trevor practically hissed the words out, his fingers curled around Vampire Killer’s handle. 

 

The man’s lips curled into a dangerous smile that exposed his long fangs. “And what am I?” He asked softly, tauntingly.

 

A drop of sweat slid down the side of Trevor’s face, his heart erratic in the confines of his chest and loud as a drum. Maud almost mistook it for her own. “You’re a vampire.” Somehow, his whisper felt like a shout.

 

 Smiling still, the man raised his head and opened his eyes to reveal a pair of striking golden irises. Sypha gasped, and Maud instinctively moved to hide her, shielding her from whatever would occur in the next moment.

 

“So, I have to ask myself,” Trevor continued, this time louder and colder than Maud had ever heard him in their short time, “Have we come down here to wake up the man who’ll kill Dracula, or did we come here to wake Dracula?”

 

That was definitely wrong, Maud knew that for a fact. This one was too young, a wean next to the knowledgeable man that was Vlad Dracula Tepes.

 

The smile on the blond’s face disappeared as he straightened his spine to stare down at Trevor. “You call me Dracula.” He stated rather than asked, descending just enough to stare straight at the hunter.

 

Trevor narrowed his eyes, and sneered, “I’ll call you anything you like if you’re gonna show me your teeth.” 

 

The vampire gestured at Sypha, who stuck close to Maud’s side, “She called you Belmont.” He raised an eyebrow, “House of Belmont?”

 

“Trevor Belmont.” The hunter grit out. “Last son of the House of Belmont.” 

 

“The Belmonts fought creatures of the night, did they not? For generations.” It was more of a statement than a question, a sort of taunting observation. 

 

He was looking for a fight and, Maud was sure, he was going to get one.

 

Trevor’s expression tightened. “Say what you mean.” He spoke, marching forwards despite Maud’s pointed glance. 

 

The blond levelled him with an unreadable stare. “The Belmonts killed vampires.”

 

The last of the Belmonts gave a cold smile, slowly circling like a predator cornering its prey. The vampire’s eyes never left him. “Until the good people decided they didn’t want us around.” Trevor shot back, lips curling into a cruel smirk. “And now Dracula is carrying out an execution order on the human race.”

 

“Do you care?” The vampire asked, raising a hand in a half hearted questioning gesture before letting it fall to his side again.

 

“Honestly?” Trevor tilted his head, “I didn’t, no. But now… yes, it’s time to stop it.” He turned to the blonde, heartbeat steady and eyes determined. A smile tugged at Maud’s lips, undaunted.

 

The blond stared down at him. “Do you think you can?”

 

“What I think… is that I’m going to have to kill you.” Trevor said in reply, his hand returning to the whip at his hip.

 

“Belmont, no!” Sypha cried out, “He’s the one we’ve been waiting for.” She pointed out.

 

The hunter was circling the vampire again, “No, he’s not. He’s a vampire.” He came to a stop and turned to the blond. “And he’s not been waiting here for hundreds of years, have you?” 

 

The vampire’s stone cold expression revealed nothing, “I don’t like your tone, Belmont.”

 

“This place is old, but it’s not been abandoned. It’s alive and working.” Trevor pointed out before gesturing at the blond with his hand, “So, go on, vampire, tell her how long you’ve been waiting down here.” 

 

He glanced at Sypha, as per instructed. “What is the year of your Lord?” 

 

“1476.” Sypha replied, now weary. 

 

“Hmm,” The blond hummed and turned his eyes to Trevor, “Perhaps a year, then.” 

 

Trevor shot Sypha a look. “There. And on top of that, what kind of messiah creates mechanical death traps to buy himself an uninterrupted nap in a stone coffin?” He asked, pointing at the blonde without lifting his left hand from his whip.

 

“My defenses were not for you.” The vampire corrected.

 

“You could’ve told your defenses that.” Trevor shot back.

 

“They are machines, nothing more. They were not intended to protect me from you.” The blond elaborated, actually sounding a tad annoyed, before fully turning to Trevor. “I asked you a question. Do you care?” He demanded, louder.

 

Trevor froze for a moment, visibility startled, before answering. “I care about doing my family’s work. I care about saving human lives.” He replied before his expression became one of annoyance, “Am I going to have to kill you?” 

 

“Do you think you can?” The blond demanded. “If you’re really a Belmont and not some runt running around with a family crest, you might be able to.” His fingers moved, and Maud felt the thrum of magic in the air.

 

“Trevor.” She warned just as a long, thin sword twirled through the air before falling in the vampire’s grasp.

 

“Stay there.” Trevor ordered without looking at her, reaching for his own sword.

 

“Let’s find out.” The vampire smirked down at him.

 

“Belmont, you can’t do this!” Sypha exclaimed and Maud grabbed her arm to stop her from doing anything brash.

 

Trevor pointed his sword at him, “Tell that to your floating vampire Jesus here.”

 

The vampire scowled at him, pale fingers tight around the handle of his sword, “You’ve got nothing but insults, have you? A tired little—”

 

Vampire Killer lashed out, cracking through the air with enough force to send the blond flying through the air before he managed to catch himself in a crouch. Trevor smirked, coiling his whip, while the vampire hissed at him. “Stone the fuck up.” He remarked, unimpressed, and cracked his whip again.

 

It was a dangerous dance of blocking and dodging from both parts. The magic of the sword clashed with the blessed whip, often causing sparks to fly when the two collided. Sypha’s expression twisted into something like horror and desperation, and she turned to Maud. 

 

“Maud, you can’t let this happen.” Sypha pleaded, fingers curling around Maud’s cloak. But what was she to do, when she didn’t know who to stop?

 

“He’s not your messiah!” Trevor called out. “Dracula’s castle can appear anywhere, Sypha. And I told you, this is what it looks like on the inside.” 

 

“And you know what Dracula looks like?” The vampire taunted, blocking another strike with his sword.

 

No, he did not. Maud thought that perhaps the Belmonts had at least passed down a portrait of their so-called nemesis. They did not, it seemed.

 

 “Nobody knows what Dracula looks like.” Trevor panted, cracking his whip again and again, “You’ve got fangs, and you sleep in a coffin.” 

 

They definitely did not.

 

The vampire dodged again, by a hair’s width, and jumped into the air with effortless grace. Trevor smirked and used his other hand to change the whip’s direction. It cracked, catching the blond across the chest with enough force to make him cry out as it drew blood. His back slammed against one of the columns on the way down, and it took him a moment to get to his knees, open wounds on his abdomen.

 

He caught the next hit with his sword, Vampire Killer coiling around the blade. Trevor grit his teeth and pulled at it with both hands in a futile attempt to disarm the vampire. The blond gave a harsh tug, disarming Trevor in return, to which the hunter responded by sprinting forwards and drawing out his sword.

 

The vampire discarded the whip and met Trevor’s blade with his own. Their swords clashed, and Maud came to the realization that Trevor was vastly outmatched in swordplay. The blond was quick to use his speed to his advantage to knock Trevor against the steps leading to the coffin with a painful thump. Trevor got up quickly and was more than ready for the next attack, but the vampire was at an advantage with the length of his sword and his superior strength.

 

Trevor struggled visibly to push him back, his arms shaking with effort as their swords scrapped against one another. The vampire placed his other hand on his blade to push the hunter back and Trevor—

 

Trevor Belmont, the last son of the infamous family of hunters, kicked him in the balls.

 

Maud pinched the bridge of her nose.

 

If this was her last hope, she might as well pick out that tree now.

 

“Please. This isn’t a bar fight.” The vampire spat, annoyed and unperturbed, “Have some class.”

 

Then, Trevor rammed his skull against the blond’s nose. The vampire grunted and stumbled back, shaking his head before baring his fangs at the hunter. 

 

Alright, so perhaps there was some hope.

 

Of course, Maud had to be proven wrong, and Trevor was launched back with the flick of the blond’s wrist before the vampire was upon him.

 

Make that a bit of hope, then. 

 

Trevor’s sword finally snapped under the pressure, but not before he made a cut across the vampire’s chest to finish the X. The stupid smirk on his lips meant it was a joke, but, judging by the furious look on the blond’s face, he didn’t find it nearly as amusing. Finally, he decided to forgo the sword and simply punched Trevor with enough force to send him falling on his back as blood ran down his nostrils. 

 

He was on top of Trevor in a second, gripping those dark locks in a tight fist to bare his throat for sharp fangs bared in a mocking grin. “Do you have a god to put a last prayer to, Belmont?” The blond questioned. Maud moved closer, silent and quick, as her claws lengthened into dangerous points.

 

 It was time to end this. 

 

“Yeah.” Trevor grunted, his lips stretching into a bloody grin, “Dear God, please don’t let the vampire’s guts ruin my good tunic.” 

 

The vampire’s expression twisted in confusion. “What?” Trevor’s dagger dug into his flesh, and the blond grunted in pain. He hissed and tugged at Trevor’s hair again, “I can still rip your throat out.” 

 

Maud caught him by his own hair and curled her fingers around his throat, claws pressing into his pale skin. He went very still, and Trevor grinned up at her. “Think you can do that before I rip yours out?” Maud asked lowly, tightening her fingers just enough to make it uncomfortable and his heartbeat raced under the tips of her claws.

 

“I thought I was your legendary savior.” The vampire spoke, swallowing thickly at the feeling of the dangerous points threatening to break his skin.

 

The hybrid let out a small chuckle, leaning down to put her face next to his, forcing him to arch his back by tugging harder at his hair and making him grunt in discomfort. “My savior? No, darling, her so-called savior.” She glanced at Sypha and grinned viciously, his eyes falling to her mouth as he caught sight of her fangs. “And she is just about ready to burn you alive for threatening the life of her real savior.” 

 

The blond eyes met the ball of fire held between Sypha’s fingers. “A Speaker magician.” He realized.

 

“Yes.” Sypha replied, “And their goal is mine. To stand up for the people.” The stern furrow in her brow softened, her blue eyes darting between Maud and Trevor.

 

Maud felt the vibrations of the blond’s chuckle against her fingers. “Good. Very good.” He voiced, closing his eyes as if contemplating his current position. “A vampire hunter, a magician, and the fabled amalgam.” 

 

...What?

 

She let go of him as if she’d been burned, taking a step back and eyeing him warily. The blond got to his feet, his wounds knitting together in seconds, and turned to face all of them. “I am Adrian Tepes. Known to the Wallachians as Alucard…” He said, glancing at each and every one of them before continuing in a quieter voice, “Son of Vlad Dracula Tepes.” 

 

Wait.

 

“I’ve been asleep here in my private keep under Gresit for a year,” Alucard placed a hand over the scar crossing his chest, “To heal the wounds dealt by my father, when I attempted to stop him unleashing his demon armies.”

 

The dhampir

 

Her son.

 

The precious son of Lisa Tepes.

 

“You are the Sleeping Soldier.” Sypha said in relief, lowering her hands to her sides.

 

He turned to her, “I’m aware of the stories. I’m also aware that the Speakers consider the story to be information from the future.” Alucard said before tilting his head. “Do you know the whole story?” 

 

Sypha flushed, her cheeks turning a pretty pink, “Yes.” She replied reluctantly, avoiding their eyes.

 

Alucard turned to Trevor, “The Sleeping Soldier will be met by a hunter, a scholar, and a hybrid.” He recited, and Maud felt like she was going to throw up, gooseflesh spreading over her body.

 

Trevor glanced at Sypha, “No one told us that.” He remarked. 

 

“Why do you think my grandfather tried everything to make you stay?” Sypha shot back.

 

He stared at her for a moment before letting out a long, tired sigh as he got to his feet. “I hate Speakers.” Trevor uttered. 

 

Alucard was already tugging on his coat over a white shirt, followed by a pair of gloves. Sypha turned to him, “So, what happens now?” 

 

“I need a hunter, a scholar, and a hybrid.” 

 

Maud bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood and curled her toes inside her boots.

 

“I need help to save Wallachia.” Alucard continued, his sword cutting through the air to sheath itself at his hip. “Perhaps the world,” He added as an afterthought, “and defeat my father.”

 

Trevor narrowed his eyes at him. “Why?”

 

Alucard’s head lowered as he went down the steps. “Because it is what my mother would have wanted.” He replied quietly, brushing past them. “And we are all, in the end, slaves to our families’ wishes…” Alucard trailed off, glancing down at the Vampire Killer as Trevor picked it up.

 

“You’ll help us kill Dracula and save Wallachia?” 

 

“My father has to die.” Alucard told him sternly before looking at the three of them. “We four… we can destroy him.” 

 

Maud stared at their backs for a moment, silent as she’d been for the past few minutes. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest, and she felt more nauseous than before. She looked down and gone were the claws, replaced by fingernails that were turning a concerning purple.

 

But her mind was on Alucard’s words, her body tense as she resisted the urge to flee.

 

Trevor turned his head, icy blues narrowed in concern, “You alright?” 

 

She looked up from her hands.

 

“If anyone knows what you are before you tell them, run. Run and don’t look back, Maud.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because people like you don’t exist.” 

 

Maud gave him a small, forced grin. “Never better.”

Notes:

maud literally pulled alucard’s hair and choked him right after meeting him.

she really did.

also, have i mentioned how much i love reading your comments?

5/1/2021: i recently got back into castlevania and chapter four is on its way, i just have to fix some things.

Maud: [ is a literal killing machine who had a night creature for dinner ]
Trevor and the Speakers: puppy

Chapter 4: Crowley

Summary:

A thoughtful expression crossed Isaac’s face. “My lord, one of my night creatures was killed by something before it could enter Gresit.” He informed the vampire, and Hector stopped petting the familiar in surprise. “And the ones that fled seemed... distressed.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow and sat back, intrigued.

“Oh?”

Notes:

the father arriveth

so i recently discovered that there will be a new female character in season four that is also named Greta... for anyone reading this after season four’s release, i want to make it very clear that the Greta in this story is an original character that has nothing to do with the one from the series. since i’m gonna say fuck it to the canon universe, i suppose i’ll just ignore her existence as well lmao

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

Chapter Text

The burning of Lisa Tepes was a grave mistake.

 

And the world would be punished because of an individual’s close minded actions. If only the church was more open to the idea of science and the great minds were less selfish… then perhaps everyone could be at peace. Such wishful thinking was only that, though.

 

Wishful thinking.

 

“Declined once more.” He uttered, disgruntled, while staring down at the letter brought to him by a familiar. “All it’s missing is an elegant fuck you at the bottom.” He continued with a huff, folding it up before placing it on his desk— on top of the growing pile of similar letters. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Those stubborn witches...

 

“Lord Crowley?” 

 

He turned to see one of his favorite humans standing at the door to his office. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, chasing away the frustration, “Hello, Hector.” Crowley greeted him warmly. 

 

Hector ventured into the office and glanced at the pile for a moment, but said nothing of it. “We didn’t see you arrive with the other generals.” Hector was always quick to voice his concerns, though far less bluntly than Isaac did. 

 

“Using the main entrance would mean having to mingle with those,” Crowley waved his hand in a vague, frustrated gesture, “ignorants who have nothing to share other than their compelling stories of how they drained their last meal.” He said, not bothering to hide his distaste, and put a hand on top of the papers just in time for his familiar to glide down from the windowsill to land on his desk. 

 

“That isn’t the only topic.” Hector corrected, failing to bite back a grin as he moved to gently pet the black bird, “They talked about boats, too.” 

 

Crowley let out a scoff, but chuckled nonetheless. “Of course, how could I forget about Godbrand’s favored topic?” He said, rolling his eyes. The vampire occupied himself with writing another letter, occasionally dipping the quill into the ink pot whenever it ran dry. He felt the forgemaster’s eyes on him and counted to five, waiting for the inevitable question that would spill from his lips.

 

“What are you doing?” Hector blurted, curiosity written clearly all over his features. The raven pecked at his fingers with a croak, displeased that his fingers had ceased their petting when Hector’s attention was elsewhere.

 

There it was.

 

Crowley smiled to himself, but didn’t lift his gaze from the letter. “You could say I’m begging at this point.” He mused, running the tip of his tongue along the sharp edges of his fangs in thought. 

 

The boy seemed even more intrigued, moving closer even though he couldn’t read the ancient language being written down, “Oh?” 

 

“Mm, yes.” Crowley nodded once, signing his name at the bottom of the paper. “There are some covens that I hold close to my heart, and I would be devastated if something were to happen to them or their families during the war.” He explained as he folded the paper and placed it into an envelope that he would seal with wax. 

 

Hector pursed his lips, tilting his head ever so slightly as he caressed the feathers on the raven’s neck. “Are these families human…?” He trailed off, as if afraid of the answer.

 

Crowley sighed, casting a protection spell upon the envelope so no one but the recipient would be able to open it. “And if they are?” He shot back without as much as a glance towards Hector.

 

“Lord Crowley, I—” Hector cut himself off with a sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. Sensing his change in mood, the raven hopped back onto the windowsill to observe in silence. “I get that you would want to protect the mages, but the humans, M’lord? I don’t understand. You’ve seen what they can do! Humans do nothing but hurt, kill and destroy!” His voice was rising steadily, and Crowley put a hand up to stop him with a stern look. The forgemaster looked ashamed at himself, muttering an apology. 

 

The boy meant well, not to mention that he had every right to react the way he had. His parents had been a prime example of how cruel humans could be, even to their own kin. Crowley would have killed them with his own hands if they weren’t already dead. He rose from his chair, looming over the human, and affectionately ran his fingers through the silver locks. 

 

“Do remember something, Hector,” Crowley spoke quietly as he waved away his familiar, and turned to stare at the forgemaster in the eye. “No matter how much they deny it, and no matter how much they try to hide it, vampires were humans once. Even Mathias.” With that, the mage turned vampire left his office in search of both the Count and Isaac.

 

His familiar dove out the open window with a shrill call, the letter held in its talons, and Hector was left alone.

 


 

The smell of longing and despair was thick in the air, wrapped around the strawberry blonde like a miasma. Sypha said her goodbyes to the rest of the Speakers, waving and looking after them until the wagon disappeared in the distance. She let her arms fall to her sides, a small sigh slipping from her lips, and swallowed thickly. Maud could smell the saltwater building up in her eyes, sorrowful tears that were blinked away as the younger woman tried her best to stay strong. Trevor stood there for a moment, at a loss of what to do, before awkwardly placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

 

“Your people are going to be fine, you know.” He reassured her in a quiet voice. 

 

“I know,” Sypha murmured as Maud came to her other side. “And I know they have to do it. Other towns need their aid and to have their stories saved. I’m…” Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked down at her feet, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her robes, “not worried about them.” 

 

“You’re worried about yourself, Sypha.” Trevor pointed out, staring out into the dirt roads. “You’ve always been with your family. You’ve never travelled alone.”

 

Sypha curled into herself, “Never. Isn’t it silly?” She asked, a forced smile lifting the corners of her lips. 

 

“I had never been outside of my village until two days ago.” Maud admitted, making both humans turn to look at her in surprise. She chuckled softy and smiled down at Sypha, threading her fingers into the fiery curls at the back of the Speaker’s skull, “It’s alright to be sad— maybe even angry that they’re leaving without you. That’s a healthy response, if I’m being honest.” Maud added as an afterthought, gently scratching at the younger woman’s scalp for comfort. “Just remember that you’re not alone. You have us, and we’re not going to let anything happen to you.” 

 

Maud was caught off guard when Sypha turned and wrapped her arms around the hybrid’s waist, resting her cheek against her chest. A soft purr rumbled in the back of her throat in response, and Maud couldn’t help but gently rub her cheek against the top of Sypha’s head, spreading her scent over the Speaker. Trevor looked out of place, his hands twitching at his sides, so Maud grinned and reached out to scratch at his scalp like she’d done with Sypha. The hunter batted her hand away, trying not to smile, and her delighted purring became louder. 

 

Sypha giggled and pulled back from her chest. “Mm, you smell nice,” She noted, smiling.

 

The hybrid paused, her eyebrows knitting together, and looked down at her in surprise. “You can smell me?” 

 

“I have a nose, you know.” Sypha shot back, arching an eyebrow. 

 

“That’s not—” Maud shook her head and looked over at Trevor, “You can smell me, too?” 

 

A soft pink dusted his cheekbones, his expression startled. “No! Yes? What—” He spluttered, hands up in surrender as if she was going to attack him if he said the wrong thing.

 

“That’s a pack thing.” Maud pointed out, looking between them in astonishment. “We send messages to each other through scent, but you two are human. How does that even work?” That was an amazing thing, and they didn’t even know what they just did! Aunt Ena was going to have quite the shock if Maud got to tell her about this. Humans becoming official members of a pack? That was unheard of!

 

“Well,” Trevor began as they started walking back into the city, “did you do something?” He wasn’t accusing, he’d seen how startled she was at the revelation, but he was cautious. 

 

Maud pursed her lips, “No? I’ve treated you like I treat everyone else back home. I mean,” She pushed her long, white fringe from her face, “I have scented you a few times, but that doesn’t explain why you can tell. Human senses are remarkably dull.” The hybrid added. 

 

Her companions stopped to stare at her, unimpressed and mildly insulted.  

 

“No offense,” She grinned, chuckling. “Pack bonds can be healing and make the members stronger—”

 

“Then it’s fine.” Trevor said, shrugging his shoulders. “So long as I don’t grow hair all over my body and a tail on the next full moon.” He continued in a jesting tone, and Maud turned away from him to walk a little faster. “I’m not, right?! Maud!” 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“I’m not, right?”

 

“You’re not what?”

 

“You bitch!”

 

Sypha covered her mouth to stifle her giggles, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. Maud flashed Trevor a fanged grin, and the hunter gave her shoulder a soft punch. The hybrid found herself breathless, however, when her gaze fell upon the dhampir. He was sitting on the ground and had turned his head when he heard them arrive. His eyes glimmered in the sunlight in the most mesmerizing of ways, his golden hair framing his elegant features. Fuck, he was the most beautiful thing she had seen in her life. 

 

“So,” Sypha’s cheery voice interrupted her thoughts, “how do we proceed?”

 

Alucard turned back to whatever he had been sketching on the dirt, his body hiding it from view. “Have the Speakers left?” He questioned. 

 

“Yeah.” Trevor said from his spot next to Maud. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Alucard said softly, sympathetic. He turned to look at Sypha with a small smile, “In success, you will see them again soon, in far happier circumstances.” He reassured her, getting a smile in return. 

 

Maud turned to Trevor, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth, and gestured to the dhampir. “Take notes, Belmont, that’s how you comfort someone.” She said teasingly. 

 

Trevor rolled his eyes. “I was doing a fine job, mind you.” 

 

“Oh yes, of course. What were you going to tell her then?” Maud asked, tilting her head at him. “‘They’ll probably survive’?” The offended look on his face said it all. Her smirk dropped, “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

 

The Belmont hunter gave her the middle finger and walked away.

 

“Is it true then?” Sypha asked, bringing their attention back to her. Her expression was alight with awe and excitement as she looked at Alucard. “The castle can travel somehow? We know the stories, but sometimes it’s hard to separate myth from truth.” She admitted. 

 

Trevor spotted a crate in the corner and went straight for it. “Tell her about Dracula’s castle, Alucard. Her day can’t get any more ruined.” He grumbled, fishing through the wooden crate’s contents in search of a bottle of booze no doubt. Maud took a pebble from the rubble and chucked it at the back of his head, the man letting out a startled squawk. 

 

“Dracula’s castle moves.” A thoughtful expression crossed Alucard’s face. “How to describe it? It travels without moving. It appears at locations as if…” He chuckled, “Well, as if by magic.” 

 

“The castle itself was built using a mixture of technology and magic, no? It wouldn’t be surprising if its travelling mechanism was the same.” Maud commented lightly, looking down at her fingers as she flexed them to stimulate the blood flow. Her companions had grown quiet, coaxing her to look up and meet their surprised expressions. “Oh please, just because it was a forbidden subject in the village, it doesn’t mean I didn’t snoop around.” She defended herself, tucking her hands into her sides to let her cloak fall closed. It was one of the most interesting subjects, after all. 

 

“There has to be some way to trap it.” Sypha pondered out loud, and glanced at the two of them, “How do we start?”

 

Trevor had fished a bottle from the wooden crate with a small, victorious noise only to scowl upon noticing it was broken at the bottom, its contents wasted. “I want to go home.” He grumbled. 

 

Sypha set her hands on her hips, “Have you been drinking again?” She asked, irritated. 

 

“Some chance.” Belmont tossed over his shoulder. “But no. I want to go home— the old Belmont estate.” He elaborated, turning his body to face them.

 

“I was under the impression it was destroyed.” Alucard voiced, and waved a gloved hand in the air. “Villagers, pitchforks, and torches, that sort of thing.” He added, unhelpfully. 

 

Trevor clenched his jaw and closed his eyes for a moment. “It was.” He said through grit teeth, turning back to the crate so his hair hid his expression. “But the value of the old house isn’t the house itself. It was always underneath it.” He continued, straightening his spine and looking at them with a new resolve that quelled Maud’s worries. “The Belmont Hold. Our family library and trove.”

 

“The collective knowledge and material of generations of Belmonts who fought the creatures of the night.” The blond mused, his hair falling over his shoulder as he tilted his head. “That sounds interesting. If it survives.” 

 

“If there are solutions to the problems of finding and killing Dracula, preferably before Miss Possessive here kicks the bucket,” Trevor waved a hand in Maud’s general direction, making her huff, “then they are in the Hold.” 

 

Alucard rested his cheek on his closed first. “You’re guessing though.” 

 

“I am guessing.” Trevor admitted, closing his eyes. “I can’t read or understand magic. But my family stored everything they found, including books of magic and whatever other weird stuff they came across. I just…” He paused, letting out a sharp exhale, “can’t do anything with it.” His icy blue eyes looked at each of them for a moment, and he gave a pointed gesture with his hand. “But you three can.” 

 

The dhampir gave a short hum, his mouth curling into a smirk. “Fortunate indeed, then, that I chose not to kill you and eat you, Belmont.” Alucard taunted. 

 

Trevor gave him a grin with far too much teeth to be entirely friendly. “And that I decided against gutting you, flaying you, and turning you into shoes, Alucard.” He lifted one of his feet from the ground to make his point. 

 

Sypha sighed, “Such a merry band we are.” Maud chuckled and playfully ran her fingers through the Speaker’s hair. “I will find us a covered wagon and horses, if you two manage not to kill each other while I’m gone. And you,” Sypha turned her stern stare to the hybrid, who blinked at her in surprise, her hand still buried in the fiery curls. “Don’t just sit there and watch.” 

 

“Oh, please,” Alucard scoffed, “we’re not children.” 

 

The Speaker rolled her eyes and walked away without another word. 

 

“Eat shit and die.” 

 

“Yes, fuck you.” 

 

Maud covered her face with a hand and laughed, sitting down on one of the wooden crates. Both men chuckled along, and Trevor sat down on the floor next to her legs. “Mm, yes, definitely not children.” She sighed, resting her elbows on her thighs. 

 

There was a brief moment of silence before it was broken by Alucard’s quiet voice, “Do you believe we could find the tools to kill my father at your old home?” 

 

Trevor grimaced and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the dirt under his boots. “I’ll be honest with you. I’ve thought about it, and I don’t have a better idea. I just know that right here, right now, we are under-equipped for going against Dracula and Cian Crowley.” He confessed, leaning his shoulder against Maud’s shin.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Alucard interrupted, looking at them with raised eyebrows. “Did you just say Cian Crowley?” 

 

“Yes,” Maud replied, leaning her cheek against her fist as she looked over at him, absentmindedly playing with Trevor’s hair with her other hand. 

 

The blond leaned forwards, disbelief and intrigue written all over his expression. “Cian Crowley is your father,” He stated, though it honestly sounded more like a question.

 

“Unfortunately yes.” She sighed, the vampire’s mischievous gaze flashing in her mind’s eye. “I recently discovered that to break the hybrid curse— or rather, cure my illness, I have to consume my sire’s blood.” Maud explained, blowing a white strand from her face. “Something about its nutritional value, I suppose.” 

 

“And how exactly do you plan to get it?” Alucard questioned, “He was a magician before he was a vampire, you know.” 

 

“I’m aware,” Maud nodded her head. “He supposedly loved my mother to bits before his mysterious disappearance so I was hoping the reveal of my existence would distract him long enough for me to cast a counterspell and get a mouthful of blood.” She explained, shrugging her shoulders. If she thought about it, she kind of didn’t have anything to lose. He either killed her in battle or she wasted away in a few days.

 

Trevor patted her leg. “If not, you can just use brute strength to pin him down and eat his face like you did that night creature the other day.” He supplied, a grin on his face. 

 

Alucard looked horrified, “You what?” 

 

Oh yeah, they were quite the pack. 

 

When Sypha came back with the wagon, Maud claimed a spot in the back to lay down, using her arms as a pillow. She tried to ignore the feeling of Alucard’s body so close to hers, but found herself unable to doze off. Her fingers itched to bury themselves in his hair and mix their scents until no one could tell the difference. Scenting pack members was one thing, what she wanted to do to the pretty dhampir was on a different scale. Maud huffed and stared at the cloth serving as the covering of the wagon in dismay. This was going to be a long journey.

 


 

“Have you had any luck?” Came his old friend’s quiet voice. 

 

Crowley sighed into his glass, filled halfway with blood, and ran his fingers along the spine of the large feline curled around his body. The familiar purred in delight, leaning into his palm. “Not really. These witches are as stubborn as they come.” He muttered and took a slow sip of warm blood. “The hidden coven in Moldav sent a whole page of elegant insults and said that they’ll send me to hell if I even think of going there.” 

 

Dracula turned his face away with a hum, finding the edges of his cloak more interesting, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

 

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Mathias.” Crowley growled, tapping a claw against the glass. “After all my hard work, after everything I’ve taught them…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed sharply. “Ungrateful children.” 

 

“Speaking of ungrateful children.” Dracula muttered, rising from his chair, “The generals should be waiting for us, my friend.”

 

The younger of the two gave another sigh, handing his glass to a servant as he followed suit, running his fingers through his hair. The tiger nudged her face against his side in an effort to comfort him and received a scratch behind the ears for her efforts. The familiar followed them closely as the vampires made their way to the throne room. The council was in disarray, all of them speaking and arguing over one another. They were baring their teeth and hissing at the forgemasters, spewing threats and demanding answers. 

 

“No, no! Dracula and Crowley will decide, not you!” Isaac was snarling at Sharma, fury written on his features. “Threaten me all you like, I will die for them, if I don’t kill you first.” 

 

“You do not question my loyalty!” Hector shouted at Dragoslav, pointing a finger at him. “All I’m saying is that our goals can be met without gleefully paddling in the blood of children!” He received another hiss for his words. 

 

The sight of his boys being treated so poorly made Crowley livid. 

 

Crowley snapped his fingers, and his familiar released a blood curdling roar that made the other vampires in the room go quiet in fear. Dracula sat himself on the throne, his expression a stony mask, and tapped his claws against the armrest. “I told you all that Hector and Isaac would guide our next steps.” The Count reminded them, a dangerous edge to his voice. 

 

The second in command glared at the generals in distaste, and the tiger sat by his feet, growling quietly. “This is the last straw.” Crowley spoke firmly, his strong voice reaching every corner of the room. “Whoever dares disrespect the forgemasters will be answering to me directly. Is that understood?” There were a few, stiff nods, but that wasn’t nearly enough. “I said, is that understood?”

 

There was a collective, frightened, “Yes, Lord Crowley” from the generals and their equally useless subordinates. The mongrels nearly jumped out of their skins when the doors slammed open. Crowley frowned at the woman walking into the castle as if she owned the place. The clicking of her heels echoed in the room as she approached the steps leading to the throne. 

 

“I am Carmilla.” She said smoothly, giving a short bow that Crowley knew was just for show. “I have come from far Styria to join the war council.” He also knew exactly who she was. She ruled in a quartet with her sisters, but only she held the title of queen.

 

Dracula leaned his cheek against his fist. “Your presence was requested some time ago, Carmilla of Styria.” He pointed out.

 

Carmilla straightened her spine to stare at the Count, a small smile lifting the corners of her red lips. “Indeed. But your mighty castle keep moves around.” The white haired woman gestured at their surroundings, before glancing at the generals from the corner of her eye. “And with such mighty vampire generals advising you and prosecuting your war, what use could you have possibly had for a mere regional ruler?” 

 

Crowley narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. The wench was spewing empty compliments that were venomous insults in disguise. 

 

“And yet, my lord,” Carmilla placed her hand over her heart in a manner that would make her seem humble and respectful, “your forces were repelled from a single city-state. Your generals are in disarray. So I felt that, perhaps, it is time to offer my insights to your great cause.” 

 

Dracula’s expression darkened, his eyebrows furrowing in a frown. “And what insights have you, Carmilla?” He queried. 

 

The woman gave a slow blink that reminded Crowley of a cat, and the look in her icy eyes told him that he was not going to like what she was going to say next. “Why was this new wife of yours never turned?” Carmilla asked in faux confusion, tilting her head ever so slightly, and her long white hair spilled over her covered collarbones like a pale curtain.

 

The generals went stiff, some of them sharing uncertain glances, while others stared at Crowley as if expecting him to lash out. He did, in fact, want to make everyone watch as he tore her heart straight out of her ribcage and made her eat it for disrespecting Lisa in such a way. Unfortunately, now was not the time.

 

He watched in silence as red bled into the sclera of Dracula’s eyes and cold fury twisted his features. “What did you say?” The Count asked in an eerily quiet voice that made some of the subordinates recoil.

 

Carmilla placed a hand on her hip, looking unbothered by what she had just unleashed. “You married, had a child, and yet you did not make her a vampire. Why was that?” She gave the generals a significant glance. “Were you simply keeping a human pet?”

 

Crowley’s familiar growled lowly, and the forgemasters shared an equally enraged look as Dracula’s nails cut through the stone of his throne like a hot knife through butter. 

 

“And if so, why is vampire society going to war with the world over it?”

 

Dracula rose from his throne, eyes a furious crimson, “I will speak with you alone.” He said sternly, instead of letting them know how truly angry he was. “Attend me.” As she followed him out of the room, there was a satisfied smirk curling at her lips.

 

Crowley left the room in silence, dismissing the generals and gesturing at the forgemasters to follow. He guided the pair of humans to his office and ran his fingers through his hair with a sharp sigh. “Carmilla is going to be a problem.” He murmured, sinking down on his chair.

 

Isaac stepped forth, “Would you like us to do something about her, Lord Crowley?” He asked in a tone that the vampire would consider almost eager. 

 

“We can’t do anything like that yet.” He lamented, and he massaged his temples when his head gave a rather odd and painful pulse as something prodded at his psyche. “It would simply prove her point. Not to mention that it would raise too many questions and bring us even more problems. For now I suppose I’ll let Mathias deal with her.” Crowley mused, and briefly wondered what exactly his old friend was going to do about such blatant disrespect. “Though if anything odd were to happen, you are to inform me immediately. There is no time to waste, especially in times of war.”

 

“Yes, my lord.” Hector replied immediately, even as his fingers sunk into the tiger’s fur in a gentle caress.

 

A thoughtful expression crossed Isaac’s face. “My lord, one of my night creatures was killed by something before it could enter Gresit.” He informed the vampire, and Hector stopped petting the familiar in surprise. “And the ones that fled seemed... distressed.” 

 

Crowley raised an eyebrow and sat back, intrigued. 

 

“Oh?” 

 


 

Maud stretched her arms over her head, the bones in her spine and shoulders popping pleasantly, and let out a small groan of satisfaction. Trevor lightly kicked at her ankle and waved a piece of rabbit meat under her nose. She scowled at him, and the hunter gave her a stern look in return. “Eat it, don’t think I didn’t see you sneak your portion over to Sypha and Alucard.” 

 

She grumbled curses under her breath as she took the strip of meat from his hand, slowly nibbling on it even as her stomach rolled uneasily. Usual nausea aside, she actually missed Aunt Ena’s seasoning. That woman could make one hell of a feast. 

 

“I’m still not completely clear on why you don’t catch fire in the daylight.” Sypha spoke up, a curious gleam in her blue eyes as she glanced at Maud and Alucard. 

 

Maud rubbed her hands, the ache in her bones lessened by the warmth of the fire, “Only our fathers were vampires, Sypha.” She replied. 

 

“My mother’s name was Lisa,” Alucard began, and Maud gave him her undivided attention. “And she was mortal.”

 

Sypha tucked her hands in her sleeves, and an intrigued look crossed her expression. “I would very much like to hear the story of how that happened.” She sounded both sincere and humorous. 

 

Alucard chuckled softly, and a smile lifted the corners of his lips. “She actually showed up at his front door. She found the castle and banged the door with the pommel of her knife.” The blond spoke of her with such love and warmth that Maud found it hard to swallow past the knot that had formed in her throat at the mere thought of losing her own mother.

 

“She sounds interesting!” 

 

“Oh, she was remarkable.” He continued, “She beat on the door until my father let her in, and then demanded he teach her how to be a doctor.”

 

Trevor sat up at that, his legs crossed and his hands on his thighs like a curious child. “Wait, Dracula taught a human woman how to be a doctor?” A peculiar smile settled on his face, and Maud instantly knew they weren’t going to like what he was going to say next. The Belmont hunter scoffed lightly, “What was first? Bloodletting?” He laughed to himself, and Maud smacked the back of his head with an open palm. The man squawked indignantly. 

 

Alucard gave him a stony glare. “God, you still think you’re funny.” He briefly lamented, “My father—”

 

Dracula.” 

 

“Trevor, if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

 

“—is a man of science,” Alucard continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted, though a small smile of amusement tugged at his lips, “a philosopher, a scholar, and knows things our society has forgotten three times over.” All the lighthearted amusement bled from the air, leaving nothing but a tense silence that could be cut with a knife. “Do you still not understand the enormity of what we’re doing?” His golden gaze pinned them in place, “He’s gone mad. And from that, there is no recovering him.” 

 

Trevor looked like he wanted to say something, but a low growl from his right made him reconsider. 

 

“It’s a tragedy. He’s a repository of centuries of learning.” The dhampir was staring into the dancing flames, and it didn’t take a genius to know his mind was far, far away. “He could’ve changed the world— I think he might have, if Mother hadn’t died. She’d sent him out into the world. That’s why he wasn’t there when the bishops took her.” Alucard explained. 

 

“She sent him away?” Sypha asked, her eyebrows knitting together. 

 

“She sent him to travel.” The blond corrected, “To learn the true state of the world, the nature of humans and how they live.”

 

A sudden realization took over Sypha’s expression, and her lips parted in awe, “She was turning him.” 

 

He gave a brief nod, and stared at the fire once more. “Imagine if he could have aimed all that knowledge at improving lives. If the religious inquisition hadn’t proved true all of his worst instincts about humans.” His hands tightened into fists where they rested on his knee, and Maud was acutely aware of the scar marring the side of her torso. 

 

Sometimes humans were bigger monsters than whatever hid in the darkness of the night. 

 

“And now he’s going to use her death as an excuse to destroy the world.” Trevor pointed out. 

 

Alucard spared him a brief glance. “Oh, the world will still be here, Belmont.” He murmured, “Trees will still grow, birds will still sing, animals will still hump away in the undergrowth. But you won’t be here,” The dhampir nodded at Trevor, and he turned to face Sypha. “And you won’t be here. Neither of you. The sun will still set, but you will not see it rise. There will only be Dracula, and his war council, and the hordes of the night.” His hair obscured his face as he tilted his head down, “He writes in great books, you know. He hews the covers himself from oak, and wraps them in the preserved skin of the people he hated the most. And he writes plans, I’ve seen them. Ideas for darkening clouds and making them as permanent in the air as the first of the north. Great strange flying machines that pull shrouds across the sky to block out the sun. Imagine it…” 

 

The hair on the back of her neck prickled at the thought, and Maud understood why the coven was so desperate to keep her away in the safety of the village.

 

“A world without humans, under endless invented night. And Dracula in his castle, his revenge so horribly complete that there is nothing left to do but to look out over a world without art or memory or laughter and know that he did his work well. That he did it all for love.”

 

Maud’s head snapped to the side, so quickly that white hair briefly obscured her vision, at the sound of rustling leaves and low, eerily familiar growling. “Did anyone else hear that?” 

 

“Animals humping in the undergrowth.” Alucard supplied rather unhelpfully, and Maud would have laughed if they weren’t being cornered by a small squad of night creatures. “Wait, no.” 

 

They all got to their feet, and Trevor kicked snow over the fire to extinguish it. “Which is the nearest town? Is it still Gresit?” He asked in a low voice. 

 

Sypha shook her head, “Arges is closer to us.” 

 

Trevor reached out and yanked Maud’s hood over her head. “You, stay.” He said, pointing a finger at the snow under their boots, and ran off to the trees before she could say anything. Maud scowled, looking over at Alucard for assistance but the dhampir merely shrugged a shoulder and walked off. 

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” The hybrid growled under her breath, leaning against the covered wagon, and Sypha sighed heavily. 

 

There were around seven of those ugly fuckers, hot puffs of air leaving their mouths in small clouds as they snarled. Maud nibbled on the inside of her cheek, worry brewing in her chest, and watched her pack dispose of them with the best of their abilities. Despite all their arguments, Alucard and Trevor worked together like a well oiled machine, assisting the other whenever it was needed. Sypha jumped into the fray when hellfire poured from the mouths of the remaining night creatures. Her magic hummed in the air, and she swiftly eliminated two of the four remaining with graceful twists and flicks of her hands that almost made it seem as if she were performing a dangerous dance. 

 

The largest let out an enraged roar, and a wall of fire followed the sound. A smirk curled at Sypha’s lips, and she dispelled the bright orange flames with her palms. When the night creature went to launch another attack, it choked on its own flames, lodged in the back of its throat by Sypha’s magic. It grew in size, bulging its throat like a tumor, and the night creature coughed and retched fruitlessly. Sypha clasped her hands together and the creature burst with a flash of light, melting the snow around them and replacing it with pools of blood. The Speaker turned to look at them with a smug grin, not noticing the last night creature that had been slithering in the shadows. 

 

Maud did, though. 

 

The hybrid was tackling the night creature onto the melting snow the moment it had the audacity to lunge at Sypha’s unguarded back, her claws digging into its dark flesh. The night creature turned its head, and its beady red eyes locked with her furious gaze. She pinned its shoulder down with her boot, pressing down until the satisfying crunch of bone reached her ears, and the night creature let out a blood curdling shriek filled with nothing but terror, a sound that would normally make her recoil, but only served to feed her dark pleasure. Her claws sunk into its eye sockets, and she pulled until its shrieks became wet gurgles and its head came off, spine snapping and tearing as she pulled it from its back. Its forgemaster’s magic left the corpse while it lay twitching under her feet. She looked over her shoulder, seeing another night creature limping away before taking flight, flames still licking at its limbs. It would die soon enough, she mused and looked at the head held in her claws.

 

The smell of its tainted blood made her mouth water. 

 

“Don’t even think about it!” Came Trevor’s disgusted shout. 

 

All those dark thoughts and sick pleasure melted from her body, and were replaced by amusement. “I wasn’t going to do it.” Maud denied, as if she wasn’t just thinking about licking up the blood on her hands, and let the severed head fall next to the corpse. Sypha looked a touch disgusted while an impressed expression was on Alucard’s face. She’d just torn a night creature apart with her bare hands, after all. 

 

Why did she feel so proud about that?

 

Maud used some of the half melted snow to try to clean her hands, frowning when they remained sticky and blood clung to the underside of her nails. “Though we’re not going to Arges, we should find somewhere safe to stay for the night.” She spoke up, letting her arms fall to her sides. 

 

“I agree.” Alucard said, eyeing the demolished campsite and the spooked horses. 

 

Trevor coiled up his whip and gave them a look. “Again, the closest thing we got is Arges,” He said, tucking it away in his belt and crossing his arms over his chest. “So unless you have some safehouse I don’t know about—” The second he turned around, the Belmont hunter walked straight into a red door. He flailed and scrambled back, yelping in surprise. Maud caught him from behind as his knees buckled, his heart slamming against his ribcage as he stared up at her with wide eyes. “I was joking!” 

 

Alucard unsheathed his sword again, and Sypha held a small flame between her fingers. Maud let Trevor stand by himself and slowly approached the door. It was around seven feet tall, painted a vibrant red that stuck out from its pale surroundings, and looked to be in pristine condition. Maud looked behind it and saw nothing at all; it was just a door, sitting in the middle of nowhere. She tilted her head at the runes lining up the sides of it, but before she could decipher them, she heard the clacking of a beak. Maud took a step back and looked up to find an owl perched on top of the door. 

 

“Well that’s not fucking creepy at all.” Trevor grumbled under his breath, hands hovering over his daggers. 

 

She would have agreed, if she hadn’t realized what was happening. The owl’s brown body was spotted with buff and white, her pale face accentuated by the black that surrounded her vivid purple eyes. Maud smiled, reaching out, and the bird flew down to perch on her arm, mindful of her talons. “It’s alright. She’s a friend.” She told her pack and watched them relax. The owl clacked her beak again, flapping her wings impatiently. “Yes, yes, we’re going.” Maud rolled her eyes and twisted the warm doorknob.

 

The door opened with a quiet creak, revealing the interior of a spacious cabin with a lit fireplace. They all stepped inside, some more cautiously than others, and the owl flew over to land on one of the bedposts of the ridiculously large bed. Maud lowered her hood and bit back a grin as Trevor cursed when Greta materialized, standing next to the fireplace. The witch was wearing a dark purple dress, her long twists held up in a ponytail with a few stands framing her face, the light of the fire bouncing off her dark skin. 

 

“You look like shit.” Greta stated after a moment, her hands on her hips. 

 

Maud let out a short laugh, both startled and amused, before swiping her hand through Greta’s body to reveal that she wasn’t actually there. “Thank you, love. You’re just as charming as always.” She shook her head and turned to her pack. “Everyone meet Greta. Greta, these are Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, and Adrian Tepes.” 

 

Greta raised her eyebrows. “A hunter, a Speaker, and a dhampir. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.” She mused, then smiled at them with an acknowledging nod. “No offense. I would give you a handshake, but, you know.” 

 

Sypha stepped forwards, her hands clasped together as her eyes shone. “Where are you projecting yourself from, if you don’t mind me asking?” She questioned, a sort of childish giddiness in her voice. 

 

“The mountains in the border of Muldav.” Greta answered, her smile growing at the magician’s awe. 

 

Alucard raised his eyebrows, “That is impressive.” He said, and Maud had to agree. Most magic users required the use of things like communication mirrors to do such a thing. The witches from the village were on a different level, given that they had the knowledge passed down to them by none other than Cian Crowley. 

 

Trevor sunk down on a cushioned armchair, sighing in satisfaction. Maud smiled briefly before turning to Greta once more. “You wouldn’t risk contacting me if it wasn’t important. What’s happened?” She questioned. 

 

The witch let out a dry laugh and rubbed the space between her brows, “What hasn’t happened?” She muttered before letting out a tired sigh. “I have bad news and worse news, what would you like to hear first?” 

 

Maud sat down on the bed with a groan, “You barely ever give good news.” She grumbled before answering, “Bad news first.”

 

“Your mother took the news horribly.” Greta began as she paced in front of the fireplace. “Nearly tore down my shack and searched the whole mountain for you.”

 

The hybrid dragged a hand down her face, “...What’s the worse news?” She asked, even if she didn’t really want to know.

 

Greta clasped her hands together under her chin. “The coven will have a meeting in the morning to cast a location spell. I’m in the process of casting a cloaking spell over you four.” She gestured at the small pack. “That way they won’t be able to find you even if they use a distance mirror. So, unless you want a group of angry witches and warlocks hunting you down, stay inside the cabin until sunrise.” The witch explained, giving them a stern look. 

 

“You’re the best.” Maud said, giving her a crooked grin.

 

“I know.” Greta smirked, tossing her twists over her shoulder. “There is liquor and dried foods in the pantry, running water in the bathroom and kitchen. Do with that information what you will.” She gave the Belmont hunter a brief glance when the man shot up and began opening the pantry.

 

“Oh, I like you.” Trevor grinned in delight upon the discovery of rum, whiskey, wine, and ale.

 

“But there are some very well aged liquors in there, do pay attention to the labels or you’ll sleep through Dracula’s defeat.” 

 

Trevor paused and squinted at the label of the ale he’d been about to pour himself, quickly placing it back in exchange for a different one. Sypha gave him an unimpressed look, and Alucard rolled his eyes. 

 

Greta shook her head and turned to Maud, her expression softening. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find Crowley for you. He would know right away.” 

 

“I know, Greta, it’s alright.” Maud brushed off her apologies, “You’ve done more than enough for us. Thank you.” 

 

“My familiar will tell you when it’s safe to leave.” The witch gestured to the owl, who had moved over to take a nap on the desk in the corner. “Good luck, all of you.” She said, looking at each of them for a moment. 

 

“Thank you.” Alucard said quietly, a sincere gratefulness in his voice.

 

With that, Greta was gone. 

 

Maud headed into the bathroom first to give herself a quick wash and get rid of all the blood and dirt, grimacing at the murky water that went down the drain. She dried her hair with a towel and detangled it before walking back into the bedroom, clothed in her chest bindings and a pair of loose trousers she found in one of the drawers. Trevor protested at the sight of her, but Maud tiredly waved him off with a hand. “My chest is covered,” She grumbled, and busied herself with rummaging through the liquor for something strong enough for her and Alucard while the others cleaned themselves. 

 

She ended up pouring two glasses of wine from 1094 and a glass of rum for Sypha. Maud sat up against the headboard after convincing Trevor to join them on the bed instead of sleeping on the armchair. There was more than enough space for the four of them, not to mention that the bed was a dozen times more comfortable than a chair. 

 

“Maud?”

 

“Mm?” She hummed as she turned to face Sypha, her loose hair brushing over her bare shoulders. 

 

The Speaker had shed her outer robes and was resting against the pillows on Maud’s left side, her cheek resting against an open palm. “Alucard already told us of how his parents met, but what about yours?” There was a curious glint in those pretty blue eyes, and Maud felt like she had no right to deny her anything. 

 

Maud took another sip of wine, noticing that Sypha’s question had caught the attention of both Trevor and Alucard. “It’s not nearly as romantic,” She warned them, smiling into her glass. “They met on a full moon, almost thirty years ago, when my mother tried to kill him. My father found it charming, apparently.” 

 

It seemed to strike Alucard as humorous, since a smile curled at his lips, “It seems quite in character, actually.” He murmured, and it hit Maud that he must have met Crowley at some point, given that both their fathers were… friends. 

 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Trevor stopped them, leaning over with a disturbed expression on his face. “How old are you?” He asked. 

 

The hybrid arched an eyebrow, but replied nonetheless, “I turn twenty-six in summer.” 

 

Trevor’s disturbed expression only grew. “You’re older than I am,” He realized, as if it was the most unimaginable thing he’d ever come across. 

 

A grin spread over her lips, “Aw, is that so, wittle Twevor?” Maud cooed, and the expression on his face made it very clear that he was not enjoying the baby talk, making her snicker. 

 

Alucard turned to face her again, the corners of his eyes crinkled with an amused smile. She found that the dhampir looked breathtaking in the firelight. “Can you tell us more about her? Your mother.” He enquired. 

 

“She has great aim.” Was the first thing that occurred to her, baffling her companions. Maud swirled the wine in her glass, and chuckled, “There was this one time, back when I was a child that liked to terrorize the livestock…”

 


 

“We have to accept that we’ve lost the party sent to Arges.” Godbrand stated solemnly, his arms crossed over his chest. Crowley ran his claws through his hair and sighed quietly. As much as he hated to admit it, the viking had a point. The group of night creatures sent to the city had been decimated. 

 

Hector turned to the generals. “Taking Arges is bloodshed for its own sake,” He pointed out. “There is no strategy here.” 

 

Carmilla sent a hand on her hip, giving the forgemaster an almost bored look. “Arges has no real importance,” She began as she stepped forwards, her heels clicking against the black tiles. “You should have counseled an attack on Braila.” 

 

Godbrand levelled her with an even stare, “Why Braila?” 

 

“If you were serious about serving our lord’s war, you would have seen that taking the biggest river port town in the region was important.” Carmilla elaborated, glancing at the second forgemaster from the corner of her eye. “If you take Braila, you prevent escape from Wallachia.” She added. 

 

“Any city built over running water is a place that we, as vampires, should approach carefully.” Dracula stated, his cheek resting against a closed fist in an almost bored posture. Isaac silently walked down the steps, not even sparing the white haired woman a glance as he approached Crowley. 

 

“Running water?” The dark skinned man repeated, “I’ve never heard of that affecting vampires.” He admitted, taking his place next to the second tallest male in the room. 

 

Godbrand turned to face him, “Death by running water hasn’t happened in many centuries.” The viking spoke. 

 

Hector tilted his head curiously, “Why not?” 

 

“Look around,” Godbrand said, gesturing at their surroundings, “We moved into the middle of countries.” He explained. 

 

“I’d been told that vampires couldn’t cross running water.” Hector stated, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“I’ve been on boats. I’ve had baths.” Godbrand shrugged his broad shoulders. 

 

Isaac gave him a blank stare, asking “When?” in a doubtful voice that had Crowley biting back a smirk. 

 

Hector crossed his arms over his chest. “Baths aren’t running water, are they?” 

 

“Course they are!” Godbrand frowned.

 

“How can baths be running water?” Isaac asked, squinting at the red haired viking. “The water’s stopped being poured when you get in.” 

 

“Unless it is a shower.” Crowley pointed out, both amused and already tired of the conversation. Godbrand gestured at him with a clawed hand in a I told you so gesture. “Running water from a natural source, such as a river, could be deadly to a vampire.”

 

“The Greeks used to bury us on small islands, because the graves would be surrounded by running water.” Carmilla explained. 

 

A smirk spread over Godbrand’s lips. “I think I would probably feel like running water would kill me.” He bragged. 

 

Crowley turned to the forgemasters, “And that, children, is why a sire must educate their childe, lest they end up becoming arrogant and die because of something like running water.” He explained to his boys, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth at Godbrand’s indignant squawks. “Now, let us return to the topic at hand.”

 

Isaac stepped forwards, facing the Count, “I do not see how securing Braila over Arges gives us power.” He stated in a strong voice that reached all the generals, “Arges is an old, respected town.” 

 

Hector placed a gloved hand over his chest, “I must respectfully disagree with my fellow forgemaster.” He said, which immediately struck Crowley as odd. He glanced at Carmilla, who was sanding awfully close to the forgemaster, and frowned at the small smirk on her red lips. “Taking Arges brings only terror and will scatter the human populace. Taking Braila seals off one side of Wallachia.” Hector pointed out, turning to look at Dracula.

 

“Interesting, Hector.” Dracula mused. 

 

Isaac sighed, “I must disclose that I revived the creature that returned.” He continued, disregarding the interruption. “The party was attacked on the road. Their assailants are unknown, but Arges is close to Gresit.” The forgemaster turned to look at Dracula with a serious expression on his face. “We are quite certain that Alucard sleeps at Gresit. And that there was recently a Belmont there.” His words caught the attention of all the generals in the room. 

 

“A Belmont?” Carmilla’s expression twisted in a mixture of disbelief, fury, and disgust. “I thought they were extinct.” She stated, though unsure of herself. Knowing the descendants of Leon, Crowley had no doubt they wouldn’t die so easily. 

 

“No. We believe our lord’s son, Alucard, and the Belmont may have worked together to repel our forces at Gresit.” He explained. 

 

Carmilla frowned, “If there is a Belmont left alive, then should we not observe the ancestral Belmont home?” She questioned. 

 

Godbrand tilted his head at her, “Why?” 

 

Fury ignited in her eyes, and Carmilla marched up to him. “Perhaps on the general notion that the Belmonts hunted the likes of us for fucking centuries.” She snarled in his face, and Godbrand recoiled. “And if there’s one left alive, then it may have access to the trove of weapons and magical materials talked of across generations but never found, which they used to hunt us through fucking centuries. Am I making myself clear now?” She pushed him back with a clawed hand, and turned on her heels to face the Count. “This is your War Council, my lord?” 

 

Isaac looked over at Crowley, his eyes searching, and the vampire nodded his head once. “There is more,” The forgemaster interjected, and the generals quietened. “The night creature I revived had also witnessed an attack on the outskirts of Gresit. Something has been slaughtering them.” He laced his hands together behind his back, staring up at Dracula even as the generals’ expressions grew disbelieving. “The night creature encountered the beast again. It went mad with terror and proceeded to take its own life.” 

 

“Perhaps a lycan?” Cho spoke up unsurely, breaking the tense silence that had formed after Isaac’s words, strands of her long dark hair touching her cheek as she tilted her head. As rare as werewolves were, they were usually behind such massive terror and bloody destruction. 

 

Crowley shook his head, and he looked at his old friend from the corner of his eye. “The full moon is not due until a few days.” He replied. As unlikely as it was, Crowley mused as he took in the fear dawning on their expressions, they were all thinking of the same thing. The creatures that had once wreaked havoc across the continent before disappearing entirely, with a hunger so great that they devoured anything and everything in their path— including vampires. 

 

Hybrids.

Notes:

1. the date of the wine is a reference to when Mathias became Dracula, which took place in 1094
2. were those two night creatures present during what happened in chapter one? yes, yes they were. did they have ptsd and proceed to have a mental breakdown upon seeing Maud? yes, yes they did.

rip night creatures 1476—1476

also, thoughts on Crowley and his relationship with the forgemasters?

and if i were to post a Dracula fanfic, would anyone be interested?