Chapter Text
It’s cold outside, but in his dream, Alfred is warm. Whether it’s the sun shining down on him, from high above, or the warm body pressed against his back, he does not know. It does not really matter either – the arm slung over his waist is heavy, and there is warm breath tickling his ear, but he has never felt this comfortable before. The person behind him is sleeping, and he knows, whoever it is, that they are not a stranger, and that he is safe with them. They’re stirring now, coming out of their sleep, and the arm is pressing him closer, to a broad, warm chest, a mouth moving over his ear, whispering his name…
Alfred woke up freezing because they were in the middle of nowhere, and middle of nowhere was apparently colder than the coldest parts of Dante’s hell. He shivered, dragging his clothes tighter around him, suddenly realising he was alone in the barn they had found to inhabit for the night.
Oh no.
This was not what he had envisioned, when he had gone with the Professor to Transylvania – he had known, of course, that it would be cold, and difficult and dangerous (if the Professor’s theories were true), but Alfred knew that he had not signed up for being a babysitter when he had said yes to this job.
It didn’t help that those dreams – odd dreams, dreams he’d been having all of his life that somehow seemed connected, even though he knew, logically, that it was just his mind making things up – had become more and more vivid, the closer they got to their destination. Alfred thought maybe it was his own mind rebelling, his anxieties and worries coming to the forefront in his sleep. He’d asked the Professor, but the man had been distracted and had never given him a proper answer, except to warn him of the kind of ideas one could get from dreams: and how nightmares were often sent by the devils they were hunting down in this very moment.
Which left him with nothing but confusion, really, and more dreams of warmth and this laugh, full and throaty and there because of him. It was silly, to be infatuated with something his mind had conjured up, but for the longest time, those dreams had given Alfred comfort were nothing else could. He could not say, discontenting as it sometimes was, that he was unhappy about the current frequency and authentic feel of the dreams. Quite the opposite.
But there was no time to think of those dreams now: Alfred had to find the professor, and get them to safety. Hopefully there was a town nearby – Alfred thought he had seen smoke, as if coming from chimneys in the distance, before the storm had begun. If he could only get them to the village, then they would be safe.
*
Herbert was ridiculously bored, and it didn’t help that Father had left for the night, to pick up ‘something for the ball’. Or at least, that’s what he said. For all Herbert knew, he could be wandering the woods again, all solemn and mournful, staring at the sky above: Herbert didn’t care, because apparently his father didn’t want to tell him. So he was sulking in the library instead, except not even that was particularly amusing when no-one was around to see it. At least not amusing enough to keep him entertained for long.
His mind helpfully supplied him with several things he could go and do to vile away the time, but his boredom right now seemed all-consumed and all-encompassing, and getting up from his spot was such a hassle.
It wasn’t long, however, before his mind started slipping, and with nothing to distract himself with, it turned to thoughts of warm smiles and soft hair, and golden skin bathed in sunlight. Herbert shut his eyes tightly, lingering for just a moment – he would be regretting it, he knew, because in just a few seconds the pain would come, but for now he could soak in memories and pretend they didn’t simply have to be that.
With the pain came the sound of his father returning, however, and Herbert leaped out of his chair, happy for the distraction, and for the fact that, well, Father was home, which was always a good thing.
“So, how’s the scenery?” he asked, keeping his voice drawling and uninterested. He was leaning against the wall, studying his nails for extra effect.
Father was strangely silent, and it made Herbert look up in surprise, meeting his dark gaze. And then he smiled.
“It went well,” he said, eyes glinting, and oh no, this had to mean that… “I met a lovely, young woman.”
Herbert rolled his eyes and huffed. “Of course you did.” Really. “So you’ll be bringing her to the ball?” Father was always doing this, going out and finding prey and finding the strangest creatures to bring home. Last year it had been a woman with blonde curls who had cried as soon as she had set foot inside the castle. Herbert hoped, for Father’s sake as well, that this new one would be a little more… adventurous.
“Yes, I do believe she is coming,” Father said, and Herbert was already losing interest. “And another thing: at the ball, or perhaps even before, there will be… a surprise for you.”
Now that got his attention. Especially because Father was sounding overtly smug now.
“What kind of surprise?” he asked, pitching forward and only just stopping himself from grasping at his father’s arm. His smile turned even wider.
“Now, Herbert, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it.”
“Well, is it a new seamstress, or did you invite more people?” Herbert was practically jumping on the spot, but oh, he couldn’t help it: his boredom had been completely driven out of his mind now, but it wasn’t fair of Father to tease him so! “From the village? Or is Lady Catherine coming? Do I know them? Are they boys – are they cute?”
His father just smiled that wide, infuriating smile at him. “You will just have to wait and see.”
“Oh, you can’t do this to me!” Herbert pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “You are being unreasonably cruel, papa.”
There was a flicker of something in his father’s eyes, but his smile didn’t diminish. “I am fairly certain you will be thanking me later. Have some patience, Herbert.”
“You never taught me that,” he huffed again, turning around to walk away with the last word.
Of course, he returned to Father’s side later, begging for more details, but the man remained as elusive in his answer as always, apparently determined that Herbert’s surprise should stay surprising, no matter how mad it was driving his son.
Still, it chased away a lot of the boredom, as Herbert spent the next hours of the night either begging his father for answers, or thinking up different scenarios for the ball, now an event he looked forward to much more than he had this evening, when it had still been just a chance for Father to show off the next frilly he found.
Said girl arrived just the next night, a small, brown-eyed thing that blinked at Herbert like she didn’t even see him, which suited him fine: it did however, mean that Father was distracted, especially when it turned out that the girl’s father had set chase after her. Poor fool. He was left in the forest, bled dry and Herbert could go back to picking out an outfit for the ball, a task that was now much more difficult in the face of Father’s surprise. He had to look appropriate, not to mention dazzling, for the occasion, and since he wasn’t sure what the occasion was, well, that made for one distracting and all-consuming task.
But it could only take so long for him to pick out what he would look best in – he was him, after all, he looked good in everything – and that meant more boredom soon followed, like a tide that simply wouldn’t stop washing over him. There was the sound of the girl Father had brought him, singing in the hallways, and while the sound wasn’t unpleasant, it was annoying, causing Herbert to become even more jittery and impatient.
He knew this mood: knew it too well. It hit often, even after all these years. He’d become unable to sit still, but unable to walk or pace or run as well, and his mind would not be able to focus on anything except the very thing he wished the most to forget.
And then his father called for him, looking out the window in the hall with a strange smile on his face.
“We have company,” he said, and Herbert felt a jolt of excitement.
“Is it my surprise?” he asked, grinning widely, and ran up beside him to look.
It was dark, and stormy, the snow whirling through the air like it so often did up here, obscuring most from view. But Herbert was a vampire, and he could see.
And what he saw made his heart, unbeating for centuries, jump in shock.
“No.”
Father placed a hand on his shoulder, a steady weight that seemed the only reason he didn’t shrivel into ash in that very moment.
“Herbert…” he said, voice gentle, and Herbert got angry.
“That’s not possible.”
“Herbert, it’s him. I am sure of it,” and oh, he sounded sure, calm and steady like Father always was (almost always, often enough that ‘always’ counted as a substitute in Herbert’s mind), and Herbert shook, with fear or anticipation, he did not know.
“Do you promise?” he asked, voice small.
“I watched him grow from a child into a young man. He was my student – I know him. I promise you, Herbert. It’s him.”
And it was. Centuries had not made Herbert forget his face, no matter how many times he might have tried, just to diminish the pain a tad (it wouldn’t have worked anyway), and he’d have recognised him anywhere, at any time. He had simply never thought he would have the chance. He shouldn’t have had the chance.
“I…” for once, he was at a loss for words. Father removed his hand, and Herbert immediately felt off-kilter, only regaining his balance when the boy outside turned around, looking up at the castle, the moon shining down to illuminate his face.
“I will go out to greet them. Take your time.”
Thank you, Herbert wanted to say, but he couldn’t form the words. He watched for a few moments more, before the boy disappeared from sight again, walking to the main gate with his companion. Herbert stared after him for a long while, before some semblance of calm settled over him.
And then he suddenly needed to get down there, needed to be closer. If he ran in his haste, well, Herbert was fairly certain that no-one would blame him, considering that his old lover had seemingly come back from the dead, centuries after having been lost to him.