Chapter Text
After defeating your father, and your friends all dispersed, you left to travel the country — see what it is about the people and the land that your mother wanted so dearly to protect. Three years later, you find yourself in a strange forest deep in the country, and unfortunately, you were forced to hunt. You didn’t enjoy hunting, per se. The rare occasions you found yourself hunting always came about out of desperation, a need to chase off the extreme tiredness not drinking human blood brought about. You didn’t hunt for sport, but rather, you hunted when you needed blood and you currently had no friends to take it from. Animal blood wouldn’t cut through the fog of exhaustion, but like an energy potion, it would return some alertness to you for a short time. You didn’t like hunting, no, but you’re now in a position where you must.
Still, despite your dislike of hunting, there was a certain thrill to marking down prey — putting a timer on their lives — and catching it, while you assumed this form. The feeling used to revolt you; it felt so base and animalistic . Now, you find that it helps heighten your senses. It distracts from the hunger you feel otherwise, which truly made you feel monstrous. So, what if you were animalistic in your wolf form? Temporary form or no, you can’t ignore your instincts.
That’s what you tell yourself, at least, when, after you finished capturing and drinking the blood from a rabbit, a young woman approaches you and begins to pet you. “Curious creature, aren’t you?,” she remarks, voice gentle as the wind blowing through the forest. She scratches behind your left ear and you duck your head and whine. Only your animal instincts to blame for that reaction. She laughs brightly and brings out a handkerchief from the bag she was carrying. Slowly and tenderly, she wipes the blood from your prey, that stained your otherwise snow white fur. Unwittingly, your tail starts wagging, and she laughs again at the sight.
She shakes her head, mirth settling comfortably onto her face, and asks, “How long do you plan to stay in that form?”
You still. After a moment, you return to your normal form and stand up. “Forgive me,” you say, extending a hand out. She takes it, and you help her up. “It was… unworthy of me to try and deceive you.”
She pats her dress and looks back up at you, her lips quirking into a smile. “I’m afraid it wasn’t much of a deception, I saw through it fairly quickly. You’re a dhampir, are you not?”
You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “How would you know that? My kind is… rare, to say the least.”
She hums, noncommittally. “I know of many things most people do not. Do not worry, I have no intent to harm you. In fact, you might find we are more similar than you may think.” She curtsies politely and continues speaking. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Julia, and I am a witch who has fled to these woods for safety.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. You take a moment to collect your bearings and bow. Your family did teach you to be polite, though you feel that you’ve already made a poor impression. “I must beg your pardon once again. I didn’t mean to appear rude. Call me Adrian.”
“It’ll take more than that to offend me. Well, then, Adrian, would you perhaps like to accompany me back to my hut? There’s much I’d like to discuss with you,” she asks, calmly, as if she wasn’t asking a dhampir to come into her house. You can’t suppress your amused smile, so you nod before you say anything else that might come off as rude.
You follow her as she leads the way to her hut. What starts off as a brief conversation over some tea and biscuits results in you staying at her place for the next few days. The two of you, much to your surprise, become fast friends. She is candid and kind, and the devils in her care remind you a little bit of your old home. It makes you feel nostalgic, and distracts you from the fact that you’ve been only feeding on animal blood for several months now.
As you continue to spend time with her, she quickly begins to remind you of your mother. More than the familiarity of golden hair tied back into a ponytail, it is the kind smile she always seemed to wear and the willingness to accept things others may deem “strange”. Maybe that’s why you stay. You’ve always been soft when it comes to things that remind you of your childhood.
Much like your mother, Julia also appears to have a penchant for healing. You wish you didn’t find this fact out by seeing her drag in the gravely wounded body of your friend, Trevor Belmont, in through the door.
Your heart plummets in fear and shock. The cup you were holding is nearly smashed in your grip when you see him, and you quickly set it down and go to help her carry him.
The two of you lay him down on a spare cot inside the hut. You grimace seeing the extent of his injury, and you pray that he has simply passed out from blood loss. It’s too soon for him to leave this life. Julia removes his bloodied clothing and immediately gets to work on dressing the wound. She thrusts the pile of clothes at you, causing you to stumble as you grab it. “There’s no time to waste! Put these away and get me a large cut of gauze and the herbs from the third rack of the shelf in my room,” she commands, not looking up from her work.
You immediately do as she says and when you return, you see that she’s already done an impressive job of cleaning up the wound and wiping away the blood. She closes her eyes, clearly concentrating deeply, and a bright light surrounds her hands as she skims them over the surface of the wound. Your shoulders sag in relief as you see her spell knit flesh and sew skin back together. She holds out a hand and you pass her the herbs. She crushes them into a paste and applies them over the surface of the wound. “To take care of infection,” she explains, as she does it. You distantly recall your mother doing something similar to a patient once. Then, Julia takes the gauze and wraps it around Trevor’s chest, bandaging the wound and cushioning it from any irritation. She looks at you, and her face softens sympathetically.
“He will be fine, Adrian. His life hangs by a thread, yes, but it is secured now,” she says gently.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and nod. She takes your hand and squeezes it. “Thank you, Julia,” you respond, genuinely relieved. “I will be unable to repay you for this. You’ve saved the life of one of my dear friends today.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “I know what it is like to lose someone. In whatever ways we can, all we can do is try to save those who are left, yes? Watch over Trevor. I know who it was that harmed him and…” She pauses and looks out the window, something deeply sad settling into her eyes. “For both of our sakes, I must see to it that he is stopped.”
You look at her, concerned. “Surely you don’t mean to go after the assailant alone?”
She laughs, but it’s without her usual mirth. “No… I do not think I could, anyway. And I most certainly will not be going today. I know someone who shares the same goal as I. Hopefully, he will be able to bring him to justice… and to peace.”
Your eyes flicker over to Trevor and then back to her. You don’t think you could feel sympathy for whatever man put your friend in such a state, but it seems that Julia wants to speak more. “To peace?,” you ask quietly.
She sits down, near the window. You realize she’s looking at some sort of castle in the distance. “My brother. We were so close as children, but he’s changed and I can’t get through to him anymore. He’s gone mad under Dracula’s influence.” You wince at the mention of your father. She doesn’t even look at you, but says, “do not worry. I knew you were the dhampir, son of Dracula, who fought alongside Trevor Belmont, the legend. Even before you said he was your friend.” She looks at you again, and the soft, sad sympathy from before returns.
She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We both suffered due to Dracula’s rage, did we not? I do not resent you for your father’s actions. I hope that you do not resent me for my brother’s,” Julia says, voice trailing off at the end of her words.
You walk up to her and hold her hand in what you hope is a comforting gesture. “We are not to pay for our family’s sins, my friend. Besides… I have come to appreciate and enjoy your company, and I imagine I need not remind you that you’ve just saved the life of one of my closest friends,” he says, referencing his words from earlier. I hold no resentment against you for what your brother has done.” You pat her hand, hoping the gesture is not awkward. “I hope that you’re able to convince your brother to see the light. There is no need for both of us to lose another family member to the darkness.”
She nods, eyes shining with unshed tears. It pains you to see her this way, and the feeling surprises you. You remember that your father once said that immortals such as yourselves can quickly judge who’s worthy of their time, and that is why they become attached so much faster; the life of a normal human passes in the blink of an eye to a vampire. As it would turn out, the need to drink human blood was not the only curse being of vampiric descent brings.
It is little wonder then, especially considering how much her situation reminds you of your own family, that you’ve come to care for her like a sibling. You hold her hand tighter. You were not alone when you had to fight your father, and you are not keen to leave her alone before she confronts her brother.
“You have a kind heart, Adrian,” she says after a moment. She squeezes your hand again and gets up. “Thank you… for your sympathy. If you felt indebted to me, I imagine you’ve just now paid off your debt.” She smiles, the brightness finally returned to her expression. You feel a little more at ease at the sight. “Please look after your friend. I cannot, and I must attend to my own affairs. But for now, I think I shall retire for the day. Good night, my friend.”
You nod your acknowledgement and she returns to her room. You’re glad you were able to offer any sort of comfort to her but… when you look back at Trevor, a wave of unease and guilt washes over you because you couldn’t do the same for him. Perhaps, if you had not gone to travel, you could’ve prevented this somehow. Trevor’s whip left him with too many openings and his skill with a sword wasn’t enough to cover them. When you traversed the castle together, you were able to slice away enemies that got too close or throw fireballs at enemies that tried to sneak up on you. Maybe if you were there at his side to guard his back, he wouldn’t have gotten such a terribly injury.
You forget about any what-ifs when you see him take shallow and ragged breaths, the act of breathing almost seeming too much for him. You cast your eyes to the floor. The point is that you weren’t there. You look back at him and decide to watch over him until he awakens. It’s the least you can do now. You might be weak right now but… you had to protect him now that he’s here.