Chapter Text
Belmont's voice cuts through Alucard’s hazy thoughts as he retreats back into the bowels of the castle. You let a random hunter stay in your castle?? You must be trying to die .
He’s like me .
Doesn’t mean he won't kill you. If I met me we would probably end up killing each other.
Not everyone is insufferable like you, Trevor.
Sypha’s voice in Alucard’s mind is harsh and strangely comforting. Alucard can handle himself. “That’s right,” Alucard mumbles to himself, “I can handle this mysterious D, if it comes to that.”
Safely back in the kitchen he set down his wine glass, noticing that it was almost empty, but decided he best not refill it just yet. It’s later than he thought it was when he invited D down for dinner. He hopes this hunter eats food like a human, because he really doesn’t want to have to slaughter a sheep or something and go through all the trouble to drain its blood into a decanter. The thought of sharing a live animal with a stranger is even worse. And anyway, animal blood doesn't taste nearly as good as regular food. He figures if D partakes, he’s welcome to drink from the livestock at his convenience, no matter how peasant that might seem.
In the pantry he finds several sacks of rice, some white peppers harvested just before the first frost, some wild garlic he had foraged earlier that week, a head of rather wilted cabbage, and a goose he had hunted on the grounds. A roast should be good enough for this guest. He makes quick work of defeathering dinner and begins to soften the vegetables on the stovetop.
Lisa taught him to cook. Dracula couldn't cook- even before he had become a vampire he had been Viovode of Wallachia after all. Lisa knew tons of peasant recipes, and had had a seemingly endless patience for Alucard’s uncoordinated young hands. So Lisa had been the one to show him how to defeather birds, butcher meat, and select pleasant combinations of herbs and spices. Alucard was almost smiling when he reached for a jar of mustard seed, remembering one time when they had run out of it when he father was off traveling- Lisa had made the two-day trip to the nearest village with Alucard to buy a basket of mustard flower, and they spent days picking the seeds and laying them out to dehydrate in the sun. When his father returned he was unhappy to hear of them going near the human population when he was gone, and indifferent to the mustard green salads they ate for a week. Dracula had said that it wasn’t safe- not until Alucard was older, not until Lisa was…
His father had never talked about turning his mother in front of Alucard, but looking back he had a sense that Dracula was torn between safeguarding Lisa’s humanity, and knowing that she would be safest as a vampire. Lisa had never given any sign that she wanted to be anything but a human woman, even with the vulnerabilities inherent to that. And Dracula had respected her wishes, as a husband should. And now…
Alucard finished searing the goose skin on the griddle that hung over the hottest corner of the cooking fire, then put the bird in a heavy-bottomed cauldron heating in the cooler embers. Now it seemed foolish that he had never asked her why his mother didn’t want that when her human body was so susceptible to death, and humans could be just as violent and cruel- more violent and cruel even- than vampires and night creatures. Alucard added a splash of white wine and a head of garlic, the pot hissed and wafted the lovely smell over the kitchen. He hoped he didn’t burn anything- he couldn’t stand the smell of burning flesh.
45 minutes until he had to add the rice, and then another 45 after that. Life was interminable. There were other bottles of wine, or casks of beer, or even some heavier stuff- vodka and tuica and such. Alucard sighed and put a smaller pot on the stove. There had to be tea somewhere in the place. He checked the usual spot- the cabinet to the left of the stove, and found its contents had been either discarded or shoved gracelessly onto the topmost shelf. The box of loose leaf was covered in dust, much like the wrapped package of chocolate and the jar of rose sugar. Had Dracula hastily moved his mother’s things away from where his armies could find them? Or had someone else shoved them away, too afraid to throw away anything, even these frivolous things, they had found in the castle?
It didn’t matter. He made tea. He ate a square of chocolate, which tasted a bit like the cabinet it had been in for… at least two years, probably closer to three. It was still sweet though.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
D wasn’t sure where the kitchens were, and he did not intend on eating anyway but it would be rude to refuse an invitation from his host. And he needed to ask some questions; how many night creatures were around, where the nearest towns were, how this whole country came to be a picked upen scab, bloody and bruised like this. And he needed to know more about Alucard.
He might even be lying. You could find Dracula waiting for you just outside, ready to kill you in a pitifully short fight.
“No.” D didn’t sigh because he tried to admit that Left Hand was annoying him as rarely as possible, but the urge was there. “I would know if my creator was around.”
But is the Sacred Ancestor really the same man as Dracula? You don’t know for sure. No one does.
“I would know if there were a vampire in this castle as powerful as either Dracula or the Sacred Ancestor.”
You’re no fun. Not in the mood for banter today? In the mood for something else maybe? A tragically beautiful blonde who might , LH emphasized, be powerful enough to take you.
“I thought you wanted me to kill him,” D kept his tone even.
One doesn’t necessarily disqualify the other. I mean, I’m just your hand and right now I’m equally enthusiastic about the thought of being tangled up in that boy’s hair as I am about being clenched around his neck.
D clenched his hands, digging his nails into his palms- into LH’s gnarly little face. Fine- Fine! I’ll be quiet- for now. It’s getting dark, we should find our host. I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about after your little date.
Though there were no windows in the bottom floors of the castle, D could feel the shadows lengthening in the corner of the room, and the subtle drop in temperature as the early spring day ceded to the wintery night. He added a log to the fire and paused a moment, considering, before grabbing his cape and hat and swinging open the heavy door. Across the corridor stood a suit of armour which hadn’t been there before- D was sure- but it was extremely odd that he hadn’t noticed it’s approach. Its shield was resting against its calf, its sword sheathed, and when D moved his head almost imperceptibly to see if it was magic or mechanic, it pointed down the corridor the way D had come, its arm moving as if a soldier still inhabited it.
D passed it warily, muttering “magic?” to himself or to LH, but of course the wretched creature had promised to be quiet and revelled in the opportunity to present even a slight inconvenience in this promise. Once he was back in the entrance hall, the smell of dinner was enough to guide him down into the kitchens, although the armors appeared at the mouth of various hallways to guide him as well.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Alucard stood and surveyed the scene. The tablecloth was dusty, but it was better than the bare table. Probaby. The candelabra was gleaming- probably polished by a changeling squire not long before the night Dracula died. Oops. Not that. Not now. Now the napkins- blessedly free of dust and grime, and the plates. The nice ones- the gold ones that, now that Alucard thought about it- were probably several hundred years old- were up in the destroyed great hall. And he wasn’t about to dig through that mess. So, the simple pewter plates didn’t match the nice silverware, but it would do. The crystal decanters and glasses set was a nice touch, but Alucard nonetheless wished he had chosen a different location. Maybe one of the turrets, which had windows, or the upstairs salon. The kitchen was too personal for a guest, and didn’t hold enough interest- there was nowhere for Alucard to go with his attention if the conversation became too… intense.
And how should the young Prince greet his guest? Alucard considers how his father used to greet the few visitors the castle used to receive, and adjusts the table slightly so he can sit in the command position- facing the door and near the middle of the hearth so he’s well lit. A moment later Alucard startles at the sound of a boot against the door jam, and looks up to see his imposing guest already in the room, dark hat drawn low over his brow, expression as inscrutable as it had been in the entrance hall. Alucard blushes despite himself, struggling to find his words for a moment.
“I apologize if I startled you,” D begins smoothly, moving into the room without invitation. “When I left the guest room there were armor sets that moved to show me the way here,” he paused and took in the space- it was well built and older than any castle he had been in before. He noticed the detailed stone work around the massive fireplace- such decorations in spaces meant for servants spoke of wealth and power- no less than he expected from the Prince of Wallachia, but impressive still. “I assumed you were summoning me?”
Alucard saw D notice the room itself before the mismatched place settings. Good. But the armour… that was odd. He wasn’t sure what was going on there, but he absolutely wasn’t going to let this strange Dhampyr know that. “No need to apologize. Please, take a seat,” he gestured to the place across from him and waited for his companion to sit before he joined him, ultimately leading with his mother’s version of hospitality. “Dracula had pacts and deals and speelworkings to bind him to the various Night Creatures that were allowed to live in the palace. Over the centuries they got quite good at anticipating his needs, especially the enchanted armour. I assume those agreements were transferred to me when he was defeated, but obviously they’re still working on anticipating my needs.” Alucard poured himself some wine- a deep fetească neagră aged in smoked oak barrels which had been his parent’s favorite- and offered some to his guest. It was his turn to notice a questioning look from D for a moment before he accepted.
“They’re not dangerous to the humans around here? Not the armour, but, whatever else resides in the castle,” D clarified as he sat in the space across from Alucard, “There are two villages within seven miles of this place. That’s not too far for several types of creatures to be hunting at night.” D noted the millisecond of confusion that passed over his host's face, and felt LH buzzing with curiosity in the back of his mind. .
Damn. “They stay in the castle unless given explicit orders,” Alucard hoped he sounded much more confident than he felt, and less desperate to change the subject, he lifted the lid off the serving pot and added, “I didn’t know what you prefer to eat, but this is what I had. It’s a very traditional dish, but if you prefer to feed on the livestock, you're welcome to do so. I have no human guests at the moment, and of course if I did, you would need their consent to feed from them.”
The corner of D’s mouth lifted slightly- the tiniest smile Alucard had ever seen. It struck him then, again, how much D looked like his father. Could he be his brother? Half brother, surely- there was nothing of Lisa in D’s face, at least not from what Alucard could see under the wide-brimmed hat. Alucard was suddenly seized by the urge to demand D remove his hat, to drop his pretense and tell him who he was and why he had only now come to seek Dracula, but of course he held himself back, trying to feign a patience he didn’t feel.
“I don’t eat much,” D surreptitiously dropped a capsule of dried blood into his wine before taking a sip. “But I appreciate the effort, Alucard. I’ll have some food tonight.” Alucard tried to get a better glimpse of D’s face as he served the other man, but wasn’t able to without making it far too obvious.
Ha- this kid’s trying to get a look at your beautiful mug. Thankfully, Left Hand had kept his
commentary internal- though D shouldn’t have been surprised to hear it, the fact didn’t make it any less irritating.
You promised to be quiet, he reminded the parasite, though he did consider taking his hat off- it did seem a bit unfair to greet his host with the hat and the cloak, especially since Alucard himself was practically unarmored—his hair down, his clothing elegant but clearly chosen for comfort, not defense. D could even see the line of a thick scar stretching from Alucard’s collar bone to some unknown point below his tunic. It seemed deeply unlikely that the same fiend who had created him, trained him into lethal weapon, had also fathered this unguarded young man. Maybe Alucard’s mother had something to do with it- even with all the ancient knowledge in the world, there was no way Dracula had discovered a viable way to clone himself, to alter genes, to attempt to make the perfect Dhampyr super soldier yet. So, logic followed that Alucard had had a real mother, who his father had loved. D could see it in the other man’s face- it was more slender than the Sacred Ancestor’s, more elegant. The blonde hair had to have been his mother’s also, and Alucard’s gold eyes were a hint at his mother’s recessive blue. There was a certain femininity there that made D feel… protective? Certainly he felt something, looking at this other self, this stranger.
Hot! Left hand supplied, again internally, You feel hot for him. D thought for a moment either he or LH had spoken aloud, because Alucard looked up from his dinner and caught D’s eye the moment LH had spoken.
Now it was D’s turn to blush, caught staring at his maybe-half-brother. Even under the hat Aulcard could tell the warmth was rising in his companions cheeks, and didn’t bother suppressing a prideful grin. “You know, I don’t know where you’re from, but here in Wallachia it’s considered rude to wear a hat to the dinner table.”
“Is it?” D made no move to remove his gear, but did take a bite of the roast goose. It was surprisingly well-prepared.
“But then, most monster hunters I’ve met aren’t very concerned with social graces anyway,” Alucard thought of Trevor, who would have certainly turned this into a fight already. At least he was doing better than that.
“You’re not a vampire hunter yourself?” D removed his hat as a concession to the forward question. Alucard did a very convincing job pretending not to feel the sharp twist in his guts the moment D’s face was revealed. Though there were no paintings in the castle of his father as a young man, D could have passed for a young Vlad Tepes- he had the same high forehead, dark eyes, prominent nose, and waves of thick dark hair. It was uncanny- like looking at a ghost.
“Just the one monster, so far. And I guess a few simple night creatures along the way. To be honest, I never wanted that to be my whole life,” he added, remembering how true those words were as he spoke them. “But it seemed unfair to let the whole world suffer for Dracula’s anger when I was uniquely equipped to deal with him.”
D nodded, pretending to understand the other Dhampyr’s motives. Surely, the safety of every human in Wallachia couldn’t be Alucard’s responsibility- that seemed perfectly natural. But why would he choose to stay here? In the ruins of the castle, outside yet more ruins of some other great house? Alone?
Hypocrite, LH opined.
“Are you acting as the Voivode of Wallachia then? I’m sure there’s lots to do on the politics end of things- are you concerned about an Ottoman invasion? Or the Transelvania’s taking economic advantage?”
Alucard’s head spun. Yes, he had been groomed for the role of Voivode, but with the expectation that Dracula would continue that role for a long time. And so much had changed. Most noble families, both those loyal to the Holy Roman Empire and the Ottoman Empire had fled long before Dracula’s war began, knowing from experience that he was going to do exactly as he promised. The rest had fled later or been slaughtered, leaving the entire structure of society radically altered. The taran farmers had suffered the most, and Alucard had no idea if there were enough bodies to work the land. But D was right- Wallachia was ravaged, ready for an easy invasion, especially now that spring was coming, and the mountains to the North would provide less protection.
D’s voice cut through his swirling thoughts, “Not asking for state secrets of course. But I could see the people of Wallachia having a lot of trust for the Dhampyr who ended Dracula’s war, and of course you have a strong legal claim.”
Alucard sighed and poured himself another glass of wine, topping off D’s as well. “It’s a bit complicated. I’m the guardian of many secrets that lie in this castle and the Belmont family home. And this castle is here now, between Braila and Targoviste, our capital.” Alucard watched D’s face, which now that he could see, was much easier to read. His father’s face, his father’s expressions. He considered that maybe this is why D is here- he seems to be an older Dhampyr heir of Vlad Tepese, and might be planning on taking control of Wallachia himself. For a moment Alucard feels a pang of anger- that this man must have left their home country, abandoned it to Dracula’s war, and then come to claim his prize now that Alucard had cleaned up their father’s mess.
“Did you know our father moved the capital to Targoviste a few years ago? It was more convenient for my mother. If you plan on staking your claim to the throne, you’ll have to go there,” Alucard practically hissed.
D took several moments to respond, sipping his drink and watching Alucard, his face once again expressionless. Alucard had the distinct feeling he had done something to disappoint this enigma of a man, which he did feel some embarrassment over, which made him even more angry. How dare this stranger swagger in and judge him in his own home? Fucker. He was about to stand up, to make some move toward physical aggression, to tell this “D” to get fucked when D finally answered.
“I don’t know for sure if we have the same father,” he says slowly, “where I come from people refer to my father as the Vampire King, or the Sacred Ancestor. Not by his name or any human titles. And I’m not interested in human titles. I asked because,” D paused, not sure how much to give away. He didn’t want to sound accusatory if there was nothing to accuse Alucard of.
Fuck it, LH threw in, he basically accused you.
“Because I’ve met many vampires, and several Dhampyrs, and whether or not they want power- and why they want or don’t want power- tends to say a lot about them.”
Of course , Alucard thinks, anger giving way to a bitterness.
“You're deciding whether you need to try to kill me?”
“Ha! He said try,” Left Hand chortled to himself.
D said nothing, not taking the bait nor explaining himself.
“I don't want power because I don't want the responsibility of it. The people of Wallachia might accept me as their Prince, but the whole system of vassalage is a mess. Short of declaring Belmont a Lord again and trying to reinstate the aristocratic class, I can't really do much for the peasants. Not that that would do much for them, as it turns out. Even the wealth of this castle is mostly in goods. There aren't dungeons full of gold, there are no tools for un-salting the fields, or reviving the crops and the livestock of Wallachia. There are books and weapons and fine goods, and they don't need any of that right now.” Alucard pushed his chair out and began pacing, his arms folded tightly behind his back. D’s brows raised- this is the first time he's seen Alicard carry himself like The Sacred Ancestor. “Of course, I'm not entirely against a fight,” his eyes gleaming red for a moment, D feels something stir elsewhere in the castle- some sort of weapon, he thinks. “I was hoping to die by killing him, but no such luck. At least one of us can add another vampire to our list of successful hunts.” He moves impossibly fast, his fangs out, leaning over D, one fist against the table, anchoring D there. The air between them crackles with threat, with power. D doesn’t flinch.
D pauses again, slightly repulsed by the amount of emotions this young Dhampyr is giving away- he should be calmer, more strategic. He's already killed his father, he should be content. D wants to turn away, wants to reach out- to touch this other self, this maybe-brother somehow, but he does neither, just watches Alucard closely- wary as his years of experience have taught him to be. From this angle he has an easy view of Alucard’s throat- an elegant line continuing from jaw to his slender shoulders.
“You're not a monster.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know what it looks like to want an end and to be denied it.”
Alucard stands, hands still clenched into fists, shoulders slumped, and returns to his seat. D might well know how he feels, but he’s not willing to talk about that with some stranger- even if they are brothers. He feels shame for admitting it in his rash anger- he’s let more power slip from his control. They eat in silence for a few minutes, during which Alucard seems to have retreated into himself. D's beginning to wonder if he's going to need to initiate conversation when Alucard speaks again without looking at D this time. “What the fuck do you mean you don't know if Dracula is your father? You look-” he takes a drink that's more like a gulp and speaks around the lump in his throat that forms whenever he thinks of Dracula, “ just like him . You even call yourself D, what else could that mean?”
D hesitates, again unsure how much he can say- how much Alucard will believe. “I wasn't conceived conventionally. Nor raised conventionally. The Sacred Ancestor wanted me to be a living weapon- stronger than most vampires and without most of their flaws. I didn't really know him.”
Alucard's eyes widened, a look of shock and concern on his face. “I… I may sound naive, but I can't imagine my father treating a child of his that coldly. Before my mother died he was… fairly warm towards me.”
Now it was D's turn to look surprised. “I had assumed your mother must have mostly raised you. I can't imagine the King of Vampires choosing to raise a child.”
Alucard shrugs, “he wasn't really doing much as King of Vampires or as Prince of Wallachia before he met my mother. He had his rules for the regional vampire rulers, and for the human vassals. He didn't have to do much to enforce them. I think-” Adrian blushes at his own thoughts but pushes through the embarrassment of centering himself in his father's story “I think mother gave him some purpose. I think our family was part of that.”
D feels a hollow ache he's only used to feeling when he thinks about his mother. He tries to imagine it- the Sacred Ancestor carrying a child version of himself around his castle, kissing his mother's cheek, laughing at the childish antics he doesn't remember ever getting up to but he must have, right? He was a child once, too, wasn't he? Trying to imagine a version of his maker who could have been like that makes D feel empty- like someone had scooped out his insides.
“D…”
“D?” Again Alucard and Left Hand speak at the same time, bringing the older Dhampyr back to reality. “Are you alright?”
D waves his hand once as if to clear the air between them. “Fine, Alucard.” He takes more wine, not feeling any effects yet though he wishes he did.
“So your mother raised you?”
If thinking about Dracula was painful, thinking about his mother was worse. Worse because he had only a vague memory of her, not even a name, not a country of origin. Just a sense of a tragically beautiful woman, sobbing while he looked on in, dazed and disconnected. “I didn’t have much of a childhood,” D finally settles on, leaning back in his chair. Alucard can see his discomfort, and though he wants to satisfy his curiosity he is patient, letting the topic drop. He thinks of Trevor, his only point of reference for someone with so much loss so early in his life. Well, D seems to be doing better than Belmont was at least. Instead he asks something else he’s been wondering since the other man’s vampiric origins became apparent.
“How old are you?”
D considers telling the truth- he's in his thousands now- but he's unsure for how long Dracula had been a vampire at this point in history, or if Alucard would know this. “About 200,” he settles on, hoping that's a reasonable age for a son of Dracula in 1476.
Alucard nods, apparently accepting this. D doesn’t look much older than him- early 20’s by a human’s standards- but then, most Vampires and Dhampyrs don’t appear their age. He wonders what happened to his father between then and now that he would have changed so much toward his child. Surely, it couldn't only be his mother’s presence in his life.
After a good long pause, both men entirely absorbed in their own thoughts, LH finally cuts in, though he keeps his thoughts between himself and D. “ Alright, enough sad stuff. Ask if you can use his library.”
“I doubt there’s much there I don’t already know.”
“Sure. But, if Dracula is the Sacred Ancestor and he died in 1476, how are you alive? And, I’m sure there’s plenty of Night Creatures to hunt around here. And you’re at least curious about this twink- who is he? Brother, stranger… something else?”
“Don’t be rude. We won’t be staying long.”
“Alucard,” D speaks quietly, still weighing his choices. Alucard looks up, wondering what devastating thing D could possibly have to say now. “Thank you for dinner and the room for the night.”
Alucard nods, as grateful for the mercy of an end to this interaction as he is regretful of it. There’s still so much he wants to know about D, about his version of Dracula, about his life. But he truly doesn’t have the capacity for that right now. It’s late, the fire reduced to embers, the shadows growing long and cool. They both have much to think about. “Will you join me in the library tomorrow? I believe we have more to discuss.”
D nods, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips, “I think I can find my way there without the magic armour.” He stands gracefully, replaces his hat on his head. “Goodnight, Alucard.” With a swish of his cape he’s gone, and Alucard is left to notice how pleasant D’s voice was, how nice it is to be wished a good night.
“Goodnight, D.” The door closed behind him and the silence that followed felt heavier than it had before D had entered the castle.