reposing | reincarnation vampire lord

reincarnation vampire lord | miraclewhip

Ultimately, what ends up being the most logical choice is the one he hates the most, but there have been many people vying for the power vacuum that Dracula had left. The greedy, the pompous, self-righteous -- too many have tried to claim the empty throne in his father's castle, and all have fallen. But the courts will never be happy to leave it vacant, and he's tired of the fighting.

So he takes it himself, crushing anyone that tries to overthrow him. Otherwise, he prefers to be merciful and benevolent, even if he loathes the politics and having to outright police the rest of the creatures of the night.

It isn't the most ideal. He sees Trevor and Sypha less than he'd prefer, wanting instead to be with them, watch their children grow, to love them. And he does, but just not as much as he'd like.

"They will die one day, my lord," one of the other vampires warn. "Would you fall into the same cycle as your father before you?"

It is a thought. Alucard knows what the intention is: to turn them into vampires like him. But he could never throw them into his world, a world of night and never having daylight. To survive as does. To truly force a Belmont into what they've hunted after all this time? Unacceptable. So he lets them live as they are, human and wonderful, until their last dying day.

And it is on that day that Alucard locks himself away from the rest of the world, deep in the earth with the crypt of his mother and father. To sleep, now that there is nothing else waiting for him alive.

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Near enough to newly turned at the time of Dracula’s crusade against humanity, the alchemist Trevisan had been called as a nameless foot soldier and survived in Braila through sheer chance. But he was an ambitious sort, vying for power despite his youth before falling into line when Alucard had taken over proper. He was the one who gave the warning, having seen in his first decades as a vampire what became of Dracula’s grief. And when Alucard leaves the throne vacant after a single human lifetime to mourn, he is one of many who seek to replace their sleeping ruler.

But while he is no longer the fledgeling that he was in Dracula’s time, he is far from the oldest of the vampires who want his throne. Further still from the strongest. Only the craftiest, and one of the few with a keen understanding of what excommunication means. Excommunication means that the humans don’t pass on. That they return, as many times as is needed, to earn absolution. It’s only a matter of waiting for what he needs to show itself.

(He has not found the girl, not yet. He knows where she might be found, but the Aurin family are clever magicians, carefully warded against all the methods he might employ to seek her out. The boy, though, he left the protection of the Belmont household when he came of age. Made himself easy prey, even with all his training.)

“...mmpfuck...”

It’s a familiar voice that sounds through the crypt, slightly distorted by the viewing mirror that it’s coming from. Outside of the coffin, a nameless vampire, turned since Alucard’s long sleep began and chosen for this task for how expendible they are, floats with a small viewing mirror in hand. The figure in it is familiar, take away the fourty or so years that Trevor’s liver held out against the shit he put it through in his youth. He’s stirring from unconciousness, chained to the wall of a vampire’s livestock cell.

The sound stirs his pulse and slow beating heart that has long since been resting with the intention of forever. At first, he is deeply irritated, his golden eyes opening. One hand forces his stone coffin to open, the lid sliding and landing roughly below as he rises.

Slowly, Alucard floats out from his coffin, setting his sights on the vampire in the crypt with him. Then the familiar figure in the viewing mirror.

"No..." It couldn't be.

Alucard's eyes soften and he lands to his feet, boots clicking on the brick floor. Was this a dream? Another nightmare? He wonders, for a moment, until his waking mind realizes worse that this could very well be real.

So he addresses the vampire he does not recognize: "State your purpose here, fledgling. And explain what the fuck this is."

The fledgling is, somewhat understandably, terrified. Too young to have ever known Alucard’s reign, they’ve only ever known the vampire courts that once again squabble over his vacant throne. They don’t understand the message they’re bringing, other than that their master is not bringng it themselves not because such a task is below him, but instead because of the danger of it. They avert thier gaze when they speak.

“My master wishes to discuss the- matter of your father’s throne. The human is-“ They’re trying very hard to be delicate about this. They really, really do not want to get killed.

In the mirror, the human shifts about, takes in his surroundings and then sighs, falling limp in the chains. This clearly isn’t anything new to him. He seems largely unhurt, give or take a few bruises and the damage done to his wrists from the chains digging into them in his sleep. The similarities are striking - no scar on his face, hair black instead of brown, dark green eyes instead of the silver-blue ones that all Belmonts seem to share, but in all else he’s practically identical.

“The human is Katalin Trefor Stefan, previously a ward of House Belmont. My master wishes to offer him as tribute to My Lord.”

There are too many questions in Alucard's mind as he looks into the mirror. There are so many similarities, some differences. It could be coincidence, genetics, a distant relative. Yet, it isn't until he hears the name Belmont that he considers his situation.

No matter whatever the hell this is supposed to be, ultimately Alucard cannot turn his back on a ward of House Belmont.

A weary sigh escapes Alucard. "Tribute," he repeats, his gaze never leaving the mirror. "And I imagine your master desires something in return, child?"

Even if he does, it's not as if he has much choice.

"No, don't answer that. I should speak to your master directly." Besides, Alucard already knows that this would hardly be a simple exchange, if that's what it is. "What year is it, and where shall I meet your master?"

The vampire withdraws the mirror, wrapping it in cloth and placing it into their robes. The last view of the Belmont boy is of him resting his head against one shoulder, slumping in defeat.

“The year is 1831.” And blinking in confusion, as if it ought to be obvious-

“And my master is in the castle, of course.”

1831. Had it really been so long since he slept? Nearly 300 years, in fact. Yet, there is an unquestionable resemblance that man has to Trevor. There are many possibilities, but he won't know the truth until he is there.

With a gesture of his hand, he summons his sword to his side. Though he is still exhausted from rest, he'll find blood on the way.

"And does the castle move these days?" Alucard asks flatly. "Or does it not heed anyone else since my reign? I suppose there's just one way to find out."

The fledgling is left alone. He is but a messenger and Alucard won't punish him for it, even if he has contempt for his master, whoever it may be. Rolling his shoulders, Alucard emerges from the crypt of his long deceased family. All will remember the name Dracula, but his wife is likely forgotten to time by now. A tragedy he will never forget.

Outside, Alucard gazes into the clear night, the wind whipping his coat and cape back. He holds out his hands, visualizing the engine of the castle so easily like it's a part of him.

"Come here," he orders, scowling. "You remember me, yes? Come here."

Last, he'd left the castle in the mountains to be left alone, much of its secrets locked away by his will. Truthfully, he doesn't know if anyone else has managed to control it last he was awake.

But right now, with a crackle of lightning in the air, the castle heeds him once more, appearing in the plain field and tearing apart the foliage around itself. Wherever it'd been, it no longer matters. It is here.

"Sorry if you'd wasted time traveling just to find me," Alucard says not at all sorry to the young vampire before he approaches the castle to let himself inside.

Ther fledgling only tilts their head at the question. The castle’s ability to move isn’t common knowledge amoung younger vampires. It’s dangerous information to allow people to have, after all. That it can move but that it refuses to for its current master is- well. It’s certainly something that would weaken anyone’s claim to it. Trevisan is not a man who can afford to have his claim to power questioned. As far as anyone who matters knows save for his few surviving soldiers and generals, the castle’s magic died with Dracula.

Which means, of course, that the young vampire can only nod dumbly at Alucard’s statement, because their whole worldview just got shaken drastically.

“I-it was an honour, My Lord.” They mumble out after a moment, rushing forward to open the doors only for them to open on their own, the castle recognising its master. And since that’s been everything they know about the world they were only so recently brought into shattered twice in the space of as many minutes, they just fall silent and follow.

The castle is in chaos. If holds only a small force, now, nothing compared to Dracula’s armies, but they are making a fuss fit for a larger one. Near to none of them knew that the castle could do that, and the prevailing opinion appears to be that it is about to fall down upon thier heads. At Dracula’s throne above the chaotic hall is a different vampire, barking out orders to try to calm everything.

...Trevisan had perhaps not expected his ‘I’ll be waiting for you in MY castle’ power move to backfire so very spectacularly.

Oh, it's almost adorable to see such small numbers scrambling about. Even as a child, Alucard can recall his father's followers, hundreds of vampires so loyal to him. Other courts falling to his word, because he was Dracula, the first of vampires and the most powerful.

When he agreed to take his father's throne, the castle had been thoroughly repaired. It was grueling work, but it allowed him an easier time to find his lovers as he pleased. And though he still lacks as much power as he should for not feeding in centuries, the castle knows where it belongs.

With him.

Alucard calmly walks inside, raising a curious brow. "My, my. Trevisan, you look well. Dare I ask if you were that fledgling's master?"

When his voice echoes against the walls, everyone else freezes, some knowing his face, most not but can presume who it is.

"Show me the boy. And perhaps be clear in what precisely your demands are meant to be," Alucard says flatly. "I suspect your tribute is not free of charge."

Now, there are maybe thirty of them here, and most of them no older than the fledgling who sought Alucard out. Trevisan’s force in its entirity is about as great in number as Dracula’s had been after Braila, with nowhere near as many elders amoung it.

“The boy! Fetch the Belmont boy.” He barks out, and when the chaos in the hall doesn’t stop in order for someone to do as asked, the fledgling that summoned Alucard looks about and decides that any excuse to get out of his presence for a moment is good. He vanishes into shadow, so very glad to be leaving this mess alive.

It’s very, very clear that Trevisan thought he would have more time. But he does his best to get the situation in hand.

“I hope that you will not consider my request unreasonable, My Lord. I wish only for your leave to execute your will in your absence, and for this to be made clear to those who conspire against me.”

From an adjoining corridor, there is a clatter of chains. The fledgling is afraid to be too rough, now, and as a result can’t quite keep the human under control. He sprints into the hall, chains dragging along the floor behind him, and is halfway to the steps to Trevisan’s throne before a few less cautious soldiers grab on to him and hold him back.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Unbind the boy right this instant!" Alucard snaps at the fledgling. "He's a person, not a piece of meat. What the hell kind of impression did I leave upon anyone during my time? 300 years later and we'll still chaining up humans for what, shits and giggles?"

He still has questions about this man, who he is exactly, why he... looks as he does. But that will be addressed eventually.

For now, this:

"And what do you think is my will, Trevisan? Evidently, you don't remember much of it. This throne is a mistake, and I tire having everyone bickering over it, thinking they know what's best."

“Don’t!”

None of this is going at all as Trevisan had intended. The soldiers look from Alucard to their master, and none of them are quite as afraid of Alucard as the one who saw him summon the castle first hand, but all of them are slowly coming to understand that he is the cause of the castle’s movement.They fear their master, yes, but this new vampire is to be feared just as much. Trevisan makes a desperate hand gesture, fingers at his throat, and one of them catches on and repeats it, claws at the man’s throat.

Trevisan takes a moment to collect himself, standing to loom over Alucard, trying to seem threatening in a situation where the only real power he possesses is the hostage.

“I care little for what your will is. But you will tell the vampires of Europe that I act upon it, and then you will vanish. Return to your slumber, or take the human and do whatever it is that you do with them. I will tell you where the other one might be found, even. The alternative- well. They break, do they not? So very easily.”

"Hm. You make a good point."

A flash of red passes through Alucard's eyes, and his sword rises out of its sheath, whirling across the room to behead the soldier threatening the man before very quickly beheading the one next to him. With his hand up, the sword goes flying through the air before having it stop just inches from Trevisan's chest where his heart is.

"Or I will kill all of your men if I so choose. I could even kill you. Alternatively, you can tell me exactly what is happening here. Perhaps we can even be diplomatic about this," Alucard says coldly. "I am Adrian Fahrenheit Ţepeş, son and slayer of Vlad Dracula Ţepeş. Do you think you frighten me even a little bit? And you call all of this... tribute? You're a disastrous insult."

This absolutely is not going as planned for Trevisan. He pales, stepping back from the blade and clearly coming to understand just how far out of his depth he is. Not needing further instruction, the remaining vampires free what is probably not Trevor Belmont.

"Please, my Lord. Please take the boy. I have no use for-" And he stares down the sword,a blade and swallows, choosing his words carefully. "-he is yours. A gift. I ask nothing."

Another desperate gesture, and the man who is not Trevor is shoved forward toward Alucard. He catches himself, looking around him in what seems to be just utter confusion.

"A product of excommunication, I believe. The spirit cannot move on, and it returns to the flesh given time. I knew it would happen, sooner or later. And so I tracked him down. For you, you understand. As a gift."

There is a pause as Alucard gazes down at the man who looks too much like his infuriating and wonderful Trevor. The hair and the eyes are different, no scars, but the face is a clear match. Alucard's eyes soften, becoming gold once more, and he yearns to touch and to discover if this is him.

But he finds he can trust so little of what comes out of Trevisan's mouth.

"Ah, yes. A fine gift," he says flatly. "What thanks you must've dreamt from me."

Yet he wonders. Is it true, of excommunication? A cruel act, but unsurprising of the Church and its human followers. Alas, Trevisan knows more about this than he does.

"What is your name, sir?" Alucard asks the boy who is certainly not Trevor Belmont with a gentle voice, offering his hand to assist him up.

"Trevor."

He stares up at the vampire - and this is, definitely, a vampire and he should absolutely be wary - in confused semi-recognition. If he understands any more of this than Alucard does then he's a better actor than he appears. But he remembers something (a bright but frigid winter day, standing in the cold and cackling at something that was never really funny, a tired sigh from one side). He takes the vampire's hand instead of reaching for the nearest improvised weapon. "Katalin Trefor Stefan, of the House of Belmont."

His voice is similar, though it's clear from his accent that Romanian, not French, is his mother tongue. In near all else, it could be the same man. He is leaner, bonier, but the marks around his wrists give an answer to that - they've healed and reopened many times, he's been held here for a long time.

There's a moment in which Alucard's heart stops hearing the name from the man's lips, but the correction settles with him. Gently, he helps him stand, but does no more to him or for him. Oh, he even sounds like Trevor. He'd never thought he'd hear his voice again, or Sypha's, but he hears it. His heart breaks all over again.

He is frightened, admittedly, to take this as he has been told, that this is Trevor in a new life. If it isn't true, he cannot bear it. If it is true, then how could he demand this man to live an old life with him?

But first, and foremost, he will do right by him.

"Do you wish to go home, Katalin?" Alucard asks. "Do you have a home to return to?"

"Not as such."

He really ought to. But even now, he cannot quite bring himself to return to the family who raised him He knows that they would absolutely welcome him back, but- Ottoman occupation complicates everything. He would rather remain in Trevisan's feeding cells than sleep under the same roof as some of the people in the Belmont house.

Trevesan cannot back away from the blade any further, cornered against Dracula's throne.

"You can have him, my Lord! A gift! A gift from me, most loyal of your servants!"

"I see," Alucard says softly. "My deepest apologies for how you've been treated, Katalin."

And he would love to continue that particular conversation, but Trevisan has to shriek and cower like every other vampire who grovels until they feel like they're within reach of what they want or deserve. The annoyance is clear on Alucard's face and turns to look at him sharply.

"No. You owe me one last boon, Trevisan. You said you knew where she was. Give me your information, and our meeting will end. That I promise you."

Trevisan nods desperately. Anything, anything to turn away the sword in front of him. He didn’t live this long by being proud.

“The eldest daughter of the Aurin family.” He says. “She studies herbalism and magic under her grandparents as they travel. Warded as they are against magic, they are difficult to track further.”

Katalin looks like he has something to add, but he has no real desire to actually help this vampire get out of the mess that he’s caused for himself. Instead he only clenches his fists, torn between rushing at Trevisan again and keeping Alucard between him and the vampire. It’s the latter that he ends up doing, settling for just glaring at his former captor.

"That'll do, Trevisan."

Without another word, Alucard sends his blade piercing through Trevisan's heart, immediately killing him. Turning around, he addresses the remaining vampires: "Leave this castle. Leave, and never return. Find your own lives that don't include kidnapping men. Should I hear of any of you again, you will join your former master."

Holding out his hand, he summons his word, snatching it out of the air without a glance before sheathing it. Alucard looks to Katalin, his expression far less stern. "Come with me, if nothing else so you can have a decent meal and a proper night's sleep. But you're a free man. Stay, or go as you please."

The remaining vampires flee. It’s not an orderly process. They trip over one another, some pushing others out of the way to be the first to the castle doors. Those that are capable of it sink into shadows and are gone. The youngest, the one who had been sent to find Alucard in the first place, bows quickly before they join their companions in escape. Trevisan’s men are gone before his body has become ash.

It’s only when they’re gone that Katalin’s shoulders sink again and he begins to try to massage sensation back into his wrists. His rescue is undoubtedly a vampire, and he knows better than to let his guard down entirely. But at the same time, this vampire is undoubtedly his rescuer. And ‘you’re a free man’ is more than he’s heard from half of the men in this country.

“The fuck is going on? And why did you want to know where Sophie is? I’m not so grateful that I’ll let you hurt her.” He settles on wary and combatative, because that seems like an appropriate response to any vampire, even one who’s just saved him.

Once more, the castle is empty. As it should be, Alucard thinks bitterly to himself. Slowly, he begins to walk up the stairs before he slumps tiredly into his father's old throne, allowing himself to be exhausted. After just waking from no blood for centuries and expending energy to summon both the castle and control his sword, he's drained.

Easily solved. He'll deal with that later.

"I'm still putting it together myself," Alucard responds with a soft laugh. "Hell, you sound just like him..."

Maybe Trevisan wasn't wrong. But it didn't make it right for what he'd done, obviously.

"My only concern is ensuring no other idiot is going to try to kidnap you or her to win favor with me," Alucard says sincerely. "You two... perhaps resemble people once important to me. Some vampires squabbling over power attempting to use that sort of thing to control me is not unusual. Stupid, but not surprising. Frankly, if they'd just let me sleep, this whole thing probably could've been avoided."

“Oh.”

He’s not stupid. Or poorly educated about his adoptive family’s history. Or uninformed about who he’s borne an odd resemblance to for years - there’s a reason that the Belmonts gave him the middle name that they did when he wouldn’t respond to his own. A lot of things start to make sense, with that.

“You- are Dracula’s son, aren’t you? Adrian.”

(He was always Adrian, in the strories told by Sophie’s wandering family. Never Alucard. He only even knows the latter name from overhearing Trevisan’s court speaking it.)

He lifts his chin, looking at the man who looks so like Trevor centuries ago. This man is less rude, but no less ready to put his foot down. He wonders about this Sophie, if she has any of Sypha's fire in her too.

It would be terribly selfish, but if nothing else, he would be glad to see that face of hers too.

"I am," Alucard responds softly. "Though no one has called me that for a long time. Vampires and humans used to call me Alucard -- the opposite of my father. Which is true enough."

He smiles faintly. "I hope that is enough to know that I have no intentions of harming you or Sophie."

“Oh. Ought I call you that?”

He relaxes. Even if he has no clue what’s going on here he, unlike the Trevor of 300 years ago, Has known safety recently enough to recognise it when he experiences it.

“I couldn’t tell you where she is. The soldiers- they don’t have a lot of love for the travelling people- not that many others do, or that they have a lot of love for anyone, but it’s worse for them. They have to be on the move constantly to stay safe.” He shrugs. “But she’s- nice? Good at convincing you that what she wants you to do was your own idea all along. Dresses like a boy sometimes. Very- very clever. Good at... smiling? And at magic.”

This is the tone of someone who is abosolutely head over heels but who isn’t entirely clever enough to realise it. Also the tone of someone who has forgotten that until very recently he was in chains and that also he’s talking to a vampire. Soft and wistful. He could talk about Sophie Aurin all fucking day. “She likes to plant things, and then she moves on, and she gets upset that she can never see if they grow or not.”

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