Chapter Text
It felt like a childish whim, no matter how resolute his soul.
Adrian stared at Dracula from across the long table. A plate sat in front of him, and Lyudmil stood behind him. The plate was full and Lyudmil was distractingly nervous.
Dracula stared back.
Family dinner. Adrian smothered a grin, and stood. Lyudmil made to push in his chair for him, but Adrian maneuvered around him, and sat Lyudmil down in his own chair, then pushed the plate up to him.
"Adrian."
"I've finished eating." Adrian held the chair in place as Lyudmil tried to stand.
Dracula's eyes blazed. He glanced at Adrian, then at Lyudmil. "Finished, or moved on?"
The line of Lyudmil's shoulders grew tense. Adrian's hands curled around the carved wood decorating the back of the chair. " Finished ."
Dracula snorted. "You can't live without blood, boy. Pick someone else if you're going to drain him dry, would you? This one has a sense of spite."
"You don't touch him either." Adrian snapped. "I am not you ."
"No. That is clear." Dracula's voice was low, but his tone was light. He laughed. "We share a name, I think, and not much else. You don't have resolve."
"Take me seriously."
Dracula sighed. "You don't demand to be taken seriously, Adrian. When you have to beg for dignity, it's clear that you don't have any. What is this, then? Has Erszébet gotten to you, made you feel as inadequate as she does?"
"You have!" Adrian snapped. "Those people, then—"
"People?" Dracula sat straight in his chair.
"The people in the village! The ones you killed! How could you? They didn't deserve to die like that!"
"No." Dracula agreed. "I should have kept them alive. That man in the prison is lonely. He could use the company."
Adrian couldn't hide his flinch, and Dracula's grin broadened. His teeth gleamed.
"You'd torture him until he dies? You monster."
Dracula drummed long fingers against his chin. "Perhaps I'll change him—give him the gift of immortality, so he can suffer alongside me for all eternity. Would that be fitting for a monster, son?"
"What have you become?" Adrian stared at his father.
"Only what they made me." Dracula watched him from the opposite end of the table.
"Only what you are. Only what you always were." He said it slowly, like a realization, but deep down, he knew he had known it for as long as he could remember. "You monster."
It didn't bother Dracula, or if it did, he showed no sign of it. His temper was mild.
"You're so human, Adrian. Too soft." Dracula stood, and stared silently at Adrian, then looked down to Lyudmil. "Stop leaving the castle, both of you. You're sunburned."
He left the room in a flash of his cape.
"Let me out." Lyudmil started shoving at the table. "Let me stand, Adrian."
"How can a son be so unlike his father?" Adrian mused, stepping back and letting Lyudmil scramble to his feet.
"Are you mad, Adrian?" Lyudmil hissed. "Has the sun gone to your brain?"
"Adrian, Adrian, Adrian..." he mused. "I can't be him anymore, can I?"
"I don't understand."
Adrian looked at his father's empty seat, at the blood rapidly cooling in his wineglass. The castle walls groaned around them.
"Alucard." He decided. "I will become Alucard. His antithesis."
He wasn't making much sense. Perhaps it was nerves, or some latent personality seeping through, or perhaps it was just the adrenaline high of showing his backbone for the first time in his life.
"Alucard?"
"It's childish, isn't it?"
"No, but—" Lyudmil cut himself off, then continued. "To go against your father…"
"He was going to turn that man. Is going to turn that man." Adrian—Alucard looked down. "My mother spoke to me before she died. I don't know that I can trust you with what she said."
"That—!"
"You'd tell him, wouldn't you?" Alucard stared at Lyudmil. The dim light from the candles reflected in his dark eyes.
"Bastard." Lyudmil grit out.
"True enough. They weren't married."
Lyudmil grimaced. "I don't have a choice."
"Of course you do; you just don't like your options. You're afraid to do the only thing worth doing." Alucard reached out for him. Lyudmil slapped his hand away.
"No, I don't have a choice . You're his son—you have the luxury of rebellion. I'm a human—I can't even defend myself against other humans, much less Dracula himself! You think I don't know what happens to humans who oppose him? He would not kill me."
"I would protect you." Alucard didn't think about the man in the dungeon. The man who would be immortal, in the dungeon. "I wouldn't let him—"
"You can't . He is the master of this castle, Alucard . Not you."
Lyudmil brushed past him, and didn't turn or hesitate when Alucard called out his name, nor when Alucard called him a coward again.
His father, and now his friend: how more people would he drive from the room before the night ended?
"Do I disappoint you, father?" Alucard wondered aloud, his voice echoing baritone in the empty room. "Do you wish to trade me for a better son? How cruel would he have to be to please you?"
The walls didn't answer him. He sat on the edge of the table and stared at the half empty and quickly congealing glass of blood. Blood never turned his stomach, but the urge he felt to drink it always did. Blood and blood. Life was so cheap here. Unlife too.
Alucard shot to his feet and sprinted for the dungeons.
Killing a vampire was more difficult than killing a human, but it could be done. It would be done, even if he had to smuggle the man out of the castle and leave him in the courtyard to wait for the sun.
Alucard snagged onto the wall as he turned the corner, scraping the fine kidhide of his gloves and uncaring. He wrenched open the door to the dungeon, and the sharp, bitter metal of blood flooded his senses. His jaw worked and his stomach plummeted. Too late .
He followed the scent through the winding dungeon, through the mouldering stone walls and the stink of life and death. His fingers brushed the door, and he swallowed before pushing it open.
The man—Ion Balan, who had never liked his mother, nor him, who had swatted Adrian once for staring at the dried herbs he sold in the marketplace—lied slumped on the ground, tongueless, limbless, and lifeless. It was obvious what had killed him—a simple, gentle knife strike across his throat. He didn't look peaceful in death, just tired, but it was final. Over.
Alucard crouched next to the body and slid its eyes shut, then picked up the knife, abandoned next to the man. A kitchen knife—Lyudmil had been cutting berries with it last week. Guilt curdled in him, but what was done was done. Words couldn't be taken back, nor a life restored. He felt a presence.
"Dracula."
"Not father?" Dracula stood behind him. His rage was barely contained, and palpable. "Adrian."
"Not son?" Alucard stood, letting the knife fall back to the floor. He met Dracula's eyes, watched the fire smolder in them, fury barely banked by reason.
"You…"
"I killed him." Alucard lied. Promises to keep, he just hadn't thought it would come this far, this soon. "He deserved to die."
"He deserved to live. Did you not love her? Is that it? Are you so bound by your human nature that you side with the people who killed your mother?"
Alucard shuddered. "Do not—"
"You watched them kill her. You did nothing, son ."
"She bade me—"
"Coward." Dracula moved, boxing him in against the wall. "Liar."
Alucard snatched his collar, draggin Dracula down to look him in the eye. "She bade me. Her last words—"
The veil of calm was torn. Dracula grabbed him by his close cropped hair, slamming him against the wall. "Her last words? Speak, boy! Tell me!"
Aucard did not take effort to nurture his cruelty, but this felt effortless nonetheless. He remained silent.
"Speak!" Dracula squeezed his throat. Alucard kicked out at him, to no avail.
"Kill me and her words die with me." Alucard managed to get out around Dracula's fist. Dracula snarled, and Alucard felt his vision pulse and darken. "Father—"
"Out!" Dracula threw him to the floor. "Out, damn you!"
Dignity abandoned, Alucard scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the door. His breath was ragged by the time he made it to the entrance of the dungeon, and he had to stop to retch up blood and bile. It burned his brutalized throat on the way up, and he sullenly wiped his mouth with his glove, before pulling it off and tossing it aside. He leaned against the wall, panting, and slumped down into a crouch. Alucard pressed his face into his bare hands, and struggled not to weep. Why was the notion that his—that Dracula was capable of violence towards him so surprising?
Alucard wiped the bloody tears away from the corners of his eyes, and made his way to the stables.
He smelled Lyudmil there before he heard him, and deliberately let the ladder step creak.
"Who's there?" Lyudmil sounded as hoarse as Alucard felt.
"Just me." Alucard stepped into the waning moonlight.
"Adrian." Lyudmil staggered to his feet, his relief palpable. He turned up the oil lamp sitting next to him. The warm flame cast light onto Alucard. "Your throat…"
"I told you that I would protect you." Alucard's voice came out more hoarse and subdued than he had intended.
"You idiot." Lyudmil snapped. He sounded nasal. "Let me see it."
Alucard obligingly tilted his chin up. Lyudmil traced the bruise, finding all four fingers and a thumb.
"You idiot." He muttered again, his palm closing into a fist over Alucard's heart. "You idiot. Let me take responsibility for my own actions."
"I don't break my promises." Alucard pressed his own hand over Lyudmil's, feeling his own pulse, slow and steady, under Lyudmil's thrumming heartbeat. "Not to you. I'm a man of my word."
"I wish you weren't."
"No, you don't." Alucard turned down the lantern.
"No, I don't."
The other vampires knew what he had done. Perhaps Dracula had told them, or perhaps they could smell the betrayal on his skin.
Most of them were too cowardly to outright challenge him, and Carmilla kept looking at him like he was a fascinating insect, pinned to a board, but Erszébet had no qualms about attacking him outright.
He shouldn't have been surprised, but it hurt nonetheless.
"Cousin—" he said, holding her back as she tried to gouge out his eyes with her nails.
"Do not call me cousin! You traitor!"
"Enough." Dracula said, his voice booming despite it's quiet. "Bickering children should make themselves scarce. Go back to your room, boy."
His tone was humiliating. It stung Alucard's pride even through his thick face.
"Go back to your room, traitor." Erszébet cooed. "Go back to your little bloodbag—"
The slap, cold flesh hitting cold flesh, echoed.
Erszébet held her cheek, eyes wide. Betrayal swam in her expression, watery enough that Alucard suspected she might start crying.
Carmilla examined the back of her knuckles.
"You'll die without them." She said plainly. "Treat your food with more respect."
"Carmilla." Dracula's voice was gravelled.
"My Lord."
The air between them was charged, electric. Alucard felt his fangs lengthen involuntarily. This was a room full of predators, carnivores in human skin, a bloodbath a second from collapsing.
Then, Dracula laughed, and the tension snapped. The inside of Alucard's lower lip was pricked, and the salt-copper of his own blood nearly made him wince.
"Do you think wolves talk about sheep like this?" Dracula snorted, undignified, and gestured to Alucard and Erszébet. "Both of you, get out of my sight."
Alucard met his eyes, and watched him until he could feel the thin thread of his father's patience begin to fray. He turned and left.
He expected an attack when the doors closed behind him, but Erszébet waited until they were in the courtyard.
"I'd like to skewer you." She said, taking off her jacket. Her voice wavered with rage and blood spilled from her mouth, where her teeth pierced her lower lip. "Because I think the irony would be funny . I want you dead now, though, and my sword is across the castle."
Her arms hardened, becoming half stone, half scaled, and that was the only warning he got before she attacked.
Erszébet was fast, too fast. Alucard leapt backwards, but he wasn't fast enough. He felt the blood dribble down his cheek before he felt the pain from the cut.
Erszébet flicked her nails clean. "Sloppy, Adrian. You're slow. Hungry ."
The cut on his face itched as it healed. Sluggish. She was right: he was hungry.
Erszébet lunged for him again, her claws outstretched. He spun to the side, and she tore the sleeve of his shirt. Better linen than blood. Alucard brought his boot down on the back of her knee and caught her in the ribs with his fist. She wheezed—dead lungs didn't need to breathe but they still held air for talking—and swiped at him, rolling away over her shoulder.
She landed on all fours and sprang away. Her hair had fallen out of its elaborate updo, and dark wisps floated across her face, obscuring her eyes.
"Lady Carmilla slapped me because of you. I'm going to hurt you, Adrian."
"What do you think will happen if you kill me?" There was an exit behind him, but he didn't trust himself to outrun Erszébet. Perhaps once in the labyrinth of the castle, he could hide, but he'd have to make it there first. "Dracula will kill you for it."
"I won't kill you, traitor. You can live without a limb or two." Her eyes twitched to the door behind him. "Or perhaps I don't need to kill you. The woman is dead, and I can't touch her grave without Lord Dracula staking me in the sun, but you've got that human, don't you? How long do you think he'd last if I bled him? He's pale, but men always have more blood. Perhaps a week?"
Alucard's heart stuttered in his chest. His teeth pierced his lip.
"That's more like it!" Erszébet howled as he leapt at her, his nails gouging for her face. She dodged neatly, stepping just to the side and ramming her knee into his stomach. Bitter acid flooded his mouth. Alucard spat and wiped the edge of his mouth with his sleeve.
Alucard turned and caught her on his shoulder, grabbing her 'round the waist like some uncouth children wrestling in the street. He was heavier, and if he could pin her, it would at least buy him some time to think. Erszébet shrieked, and grabbed his hair, yanking out a handful before her thumb found his eye. She dug her finger in, and Alucard had to throw her across the courtyard.
God.
God
. Alucard held a shaking hand over his eye. He couldn't see. Something leaked over his palm. Tears, blood,
his eye
?
"You miserable —" Erszébet swore, pulling herself to her feet. She was losing control of her metamorphosis. Scales rippled across her face, and her nose became flat and snakelike.
" Bastard ." She hissed. "Bastard! Rot in the sun you half-breed shit! I should have been his heir! You never had the spine for it, Adrian!"
"Alucard." He grunted. It was a whine, high and pained, but he managed to get the sentence out. "I am Alucard ."
"You're dead ."
She wouldn't kill him, he was sure of that. Erszébet had more sense than bloodlust.
She would make it hurt, though.
"Stay back!"
Erszébet hissed, an awful noise, shrieking like claws over stone. Alucard squinted, trying to make out shape and light. An arm pressed against his chest. He nearly lashed out before he realized that it was warm. Human. Lyudmil.
"My Lord?" A hand around his bicep. "Stay away, Erszébet! I mean it! A crucifix can kill you; I've seen it happen!"
"Wretched little beast!" Erszébet spat. "I hope he drains you dry!"
"Adrian." Lyudmil's voice was strained. He tugged on Alucard's arm. He forced one eye open and saw Erszébet lurking in the shadow of the castle, moonlight casting darkness over darkness. Her eyes gleamed yellow.
They retreated to Alucard's room, although it felt more like fleeing than anything else.
"Let me see your eye." Lyudmil sat him down on his bed. Alucard unbuckled his cape and let it fall in a slump of silk behind him. Lyudmil eyed it in distaste, but ignored it in favor of retrieving a basin of warm water and a clean rag. "Move your hand."
Lyudmil didn't wait for Alucard to put his hand to the side, and batted it away. His expression made Alucard's stomach lurch.
"Is it gone?" He hadn't seen his eye in Erszébet's hand, but it would be an easy thing to miss.
"You're fine." Lyudmil said gruffly. He pressed the cloth to Alucard's eyelid, carefully sponging away blood. "How could you have let her get this close? Aren't you faster?"
"I'm… weak." Alucard leaned his head into the damp heat of the rag. His face felt swollen. "Hungry."
Lyudmil didn't meet his eyes. "That's the worst of it. You'll bruise, but I don't think you'll scar. Her nails left cuts. Stay still; let me get a salve."
Alucard had unbuckled his brigantine vest, and was examining the cut in his sleeve by the time Lyudmil returned.
"I should have healed from this by now." He pinched the edges of the wound together. No blood, but then, he had so very little to spare.
Lyudmil looked squeamish. "Do you want me to sew it up?"
Alucard snorted. "No, but I would appreciate it if you did the shirt."
"Lazy."
"Your stitches are neater." Alucard exhaled, and his mood fell with his chest. "Thank you. You saved my life."
Lyudmil looked away. "You're my friend, Adrian. You don't need to thank me."
"Alucard."
"Hm?"
"Call me Alucard."
Lyudmil watched him for a long moment, before his head slowly dipped. "Alucard."
Alucard watched, then, as he unbuttoned his vest and folded it neatly, before placing it neatly on the desk. He took Alucard's cape from the bed and did the same. Then, he undid the ties on his linen shirt.
"What are you doing?"
Lyudmil continued unlacing his shirt, and pushed the opening down, baring his shoulder and neck. He turned his head to the side. The muscles in his neck pulsed as he swallowed.
"No." Alucard said, standing.
"It's just blood." Lyudmil didn't look at him. "I owe you my life , A—Alucard. What's a little blood between friends?"
"Who put this idea into your head?"
Lyudmil watched him blankly. He looked exhausted, and under that, Alucard could see fear.
"Carmilla? Dracula?"
"Myself." Lyudmil stepped forwards and grabbed Alucard's arm. "Look at you! You aren't healing—you could have died, Adrian. I can't see you die!"
"I—"
"You need blood, don't you? Living like a human has you living in a half life."
"I am not going to take your blood like some fairytale monster—"
"You aren't!" Lyudmil protested. "You're Adrian—Alucard. You aren't taking my blood; I'm giving it to you. Take it. I don't want to watch you suffer."
"I am not suffering ." Alucard drew himself to his full height. "I do not need blood. I am not my father. I am not a vampire."
"Your wounds don't heal ." Lyudmil held up his arm. "You might not be one of them, but you need blood too. You are the most important person in the world to me, Adrian. I'm not going to just stand around while you wither."
"No." Alucard said firmly, holding him by his shoulders.
Lyudmil watched him, and jerked away, pulling his collar back over his shoulder. He didn't knot it.
"I am yours." He spread his arms wide. "Don't you understand that?"
Possession. Yours .
"Dracula is filling your head—"
"You think I care what he thinks?" Lyudmil gestured towards the throne room. "Nothing he says means anything to me. You do. I—"
He cut himself off, rubbing his forehead. He sighed, and held out his hand. Adrian slowly placed his hand in Lyudmil's. Lyudmil stepped forward, raised it to his mouth, and pressed his lips against the center of Adrian's palm. He stayed there a moment, his breath warm and harsh. When he exhaled, the air from his nose tickled Adrian's wrist.
"I had prayed that I would not be like this. That this affliction could be cured." Lyudmil whispered into Adrian's palm. "The priest gave me rosaries but nothing changed. I saw you and I—can't you see? God sent me agony and the Devil sent me you. I was condemned to Hell even before I killed that man."
"I don't understand." Alucard watched him, willing his words to make some sort of sense.
"Oh, you shouldn't. It's good that you don't." Lyudmil's voice shook. His lips were dry. "You could ask anything of me and I would give it."
"You don't—"
"I mean it more than I've ever meant anything in my life. Anything. Take my blood. Please. I won't watch you starve."
"I can't." Alucard's mouth was dry. Better that than salivating. "I won't."
"You want to."
"I do. I can't."
Alucard stepped forward and carefully tightened the ties of Lyudmil's shirt. He knotted them loosely. Lyudmil's chest barely moved as he inhaled.
"Do you really think you can stand against him?" Lyudmil murmured. "I know you have no love for humanity."
"Mother did." Alucard answered slowly, resting his hands on Lyudmil's shoulders and squeezing gently. "Why did you give me her diary?"
"Because I know Lord Dracula took her body. The only thing you had was, what? Clothes? Jewelry she never wore? Not even a lock of hair. You deserve to at least have her thoughts to remember her by."
"That's not true. I have myself: Lisa's son. I am what remains of her." Him, with his cropped hair and slumped posture. Too much pride and not enough sense. "Don't you understand? I have to do what she can't; I have to stop him. Dracula cannot be allowed to continue this mindless slaughter."
"Alone?" Lyudmil caught his wrists and gripped them tightly. "Alucard, you barely survived a fight with your cousin. If I hadn't—"
"Not alone. You'll be by my side. I've come to realize that perhaps I need protecting more than you." Alucard gave him a wan smile, and received a frown in response. "I'll bide my time, and when I'm ready. I'll stop him.
"I must."
He knelt on the plush carpet of Lord Dracula's throne room. Red velvet. Despite the centuries, it still looked plush and new, like the dye could stain his knees if he put too much weight on them.
"My Lord."
"Rise, Magnus."
Magnus stood, his wings stretching behind him before folding neatly at his back.
"You called for me, my Lord?"
"You know the boy?"
"Lord Adrian?"
"Hn. And his human?"
"Yes."
"I've indulged this weakness for too long. Do what you want, just get rid of the human."
"Anything? Even—"
"He deserves to suffer for a while longer. The lifetime of a human… it's a bit short, isn't it? I ought to reward him for his service."
Magnus smirked.