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Chapter Text

One year. That's how long Trevor had been wandering. That's how long it had been since he watched his house burn, the rest of the Belmont family trapped inside.

Lost in thought, he nearly tripped over a root. Damn. Still hungover enough that it affected his movement, but not nearly drunk enough to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay.

When he started wandering, he hadn't been sure how long it would last. As an excommunicant from the church, Trevor had been sure he would be kicked out of Wallachia. Forcibly. Yet no one tracked him down to do so. No one from the church, and not the locals. Not yet, anyway.

Thus, Trevor slowly made his way through Wallachia, bouncing between small towns. Sometimes he would get lucky enough to hear of a job: help gather extra lumber, or take out the werewolf terrorizing the shepherds. The coin was something, usually just enough to get him some alcohol and enough food to keep his feet moving. He never gave his name, not if he could help it. As far as the peasants were concerned, the Belmonts were dead. And maybe he was, in a way.

He passed yet another small house, and realized he must be getting closer to the city, Târgoviște. Trevor did not plan on going in--too much church authority there--but he figured he could spend one or even two days in the area outside before it became dangerous. Farmers, ranchers, and other down-to-earth folk could be big gossips, but it hardly ever reached father than the few homes in their own community.

When the houses became more clustered, he eyed possible places to sleep. While the sun was still high in the sky, locating a quiet place to retreat was always top priority for the excommunicant; besides locating a tavern, anyway.

After making note of a particularly private storage for hay and makeshift chicken yard, he headed closer to the center of the little community, in search of a drink. Never too early to start.

It was the eerie stillness and hushed whispers which made his hunter trained senses perk up. Afternoon should have been a lively time, with people still working, either rushing to and fro with chores or making noise from within their houses. Yet... nothing. Like the whole little town was in on something he wasn't. It made Trevor anxious.

So when he heard raised voices--violent, persistent yells--coming from near the forest edge, he hesitated. How much did he care?

He wanted to forget it. To keep moving to where the tavern might be, get a drink, go to sleep, leave town. Maybe skip all that and find another tavern around Târgoviște. He had time in the day.

His traitorous feet stopped. Trevor sighed. He definitely wasn't drunk enough. His feet carried him towards the noise.

He found out quickly enough the yells came from a mob. A small one, with only a few impromptu weapons, but he kept his head low and stayed back regardless. He could almost smell their fear, and fear did terrible things to people.

They all seemed to be marching towards a large house, just a short path away from the rest of the village. Whatever family owned it must have been quite well off.

Except when one of the men was brave enough to knock, harshly, on the door--the others staying back and muttering amongst themselves--only a woman, in simple clothes and light hair held in a messy braid, answered. A servant?

But the villagers weren't surprised to see her. The man took hold of the woman by her upper arm and dragged her towards the rest of the mob. Trevor moved up behind the turbulent group, paying attention to what they were saying now.

"Lisa Țepeș!" A man garbed in rich priest robes stepped forth, the crowd parting around him. "You are accused by the church of practicing witchcraft, and consorting with, even marrying, the devil himself!"

Trevor could hear the disgusted, pompous sneer in the man's voice, and the crowd was getting more and more raucous. Without his conscious consent he moved closer, taking to the trees for cover, so eventually he could see the priest and woman--Lisa--without anyone blocking his view.

"By order of the bishop, you are to be brought before the cathedral of Târgoviște, where you will burn at the stake."

"No, you don't understand," Lisa said, her voice rising to sound over the yells of the mob, "I am a doctor. I make medicines-"

Her voice cut off with a sharp slap to her face, her head turning as she stumbled; The man who had been holding her now loomed over her, expression twisted.

Trevor was caught up in horror. His legs shook, and he wanted to run. He couldn't. His family's screams rose up from the depths of his mind, burning, burning...

Before he'd had time to contemplate his actions, he jumped from the treeline, sprinting past to the fallen woman to ram his shoulder into her attacker. Rewarded with a grunt and surprised stagger, Trevor reeled his arm back and punched the man hard in the face, sending him flat on his back with what had to be a broken nose, judging by the blood.

Trevor knew the man would no longer be an issue, so instead directed his words at Lisa.

"Get up," Trevor commanded. He faced the mob, knowing the element of surprise was wearing off quickly. "Now! Get up and run now!"

Lisa did not seem to need any more instruction, standing up as quickly as she could and sprinting for the trees behind her home.

"The witch-! Do not let the witch escape!"

Several people broke off from the crowd at the priest's call, but Trevor planted himself firmly in front of them, family whip uncoiled in his hand. Strikes landed just before their feet, the quick movements and loud cracking sounds enough to halt the pursuers.

"Sorry, but it looks like the lady just isn't interested." Trevor tensed for an attack, but tried for a smile. It felt sarcastic and apathetic, even to him. "How about we just all go home. Honestly, you could all be doing more productive things than chasing some poor woman through the woods."

Most of the people within the mob were hesitating. It was only natural, they were common folk, not warriors. They were out here because of whatever lies the church had fed them. And like the mere thought gave him power, the priest chose that moment to speak up.

"Your whip, and that crest..." Trevor looked down. Damn. But when using his whip, it was almost impossible for his cloak to keep it hidden. "You're a Belmont."

The accusation was enough to send ripples of disapproval and anger across the crowd, and they were worked up again. Trevor clenched his teeth to keep from yelling back; The same sort of mindless following killed his family, had almost killed the doctor they came for, Lisa. His heart burned.

"Oh, you didn't know you had one of us still running around? Didn't your bishop tell you? Or maybe he was too busy trying to find innocent women and children to burn."

Honestly, he knew he should have kept his mouth shut, it wasn't endearing him to the crowd. The priest held up a hand to quiet them some and surveyed Trevor with a calculating look which shouldn't be on the face of any holy man.

"I had heard the Belmonts burned for associating with demons, and here you are, assisting a witch with escape." The crowd yelled at him, some curses on his family, other worrying for the safety of the village. "We shall bring you before the bishop, since you have interrupted his work. He shall decide what God intends for you."

Trevor snorted. Yeah. God. Apparently the declaration was enough to get the people moving again; the few men Trevor had stopped came at him. They circled around, using their numbers to keep him surrounded.

The whip was useful in keeping a distance around himself, but he couldn't continue cracking at them forever. Each solid hit had the person who received it reel back, but they were quickly replaced by others.

Trevor's muscles burned, and he had a few bruises from stray hits with shovels and fists. "No pitchforks?" he couldn't help but taunt, "What, did the church not have the funding to provide you with proper mob weaponry?"

"Shut your mouth, demon!" One of the men got close enough to land a hard hit to Trevor's jaw, and he turned with it, spitting blood.

Another man behind him jabbed a fist in his side, knocking him into the arms of two more. Despite his struggles, they had control over his arms, and more men to hit his face and gut until he stopped, slumped. His whip was tugged from his hands.

Trevor tried to breathe past his bruises, looking up through eyes already swelling. The priest stood over him, looking pleased at the state of his quarry.

"You will face judgement before the Lord, sinner."

"For what?" Trevor spat, blood trickling down his lips. "Shielding the weak? Guess I missed the lesson where that was wrong."

The priest's amusement faltered, but his pride did not. "For aiding and abetting the evil of your kind."

"My kind," Trevor said in a low growl.

"Witches. Practitioners of dark magic, and other unnatural creatures of the night."

How dare he. How dare he accuse any Belmont of that. Trevor lunged forward, but his captors kept him under control, giving him another bruise for his trouble.

The priest looked at the men holding Trevor. "Bring him."

"But, Father, what of the witch?"

"She can not have gone far," the priest said. "Keep an eye on the house and in the woods."

Dragged unceremoniously by the simple villagers, hissing and vicious murmurs surrounding him, Trevor knew he was beat. A glance to the side revealed that someone carried his whip, but he held no illusions about getting it back. The trees held no clue about Lisa, and he could only hope she had escaped safely.

Chapter Text

Lisa watched through the thicket of trees and bushes as the young man who had come to her aid was dragged away. In her place. A Belmont, they said? She held her hands together to stop the trembling. If only Vlad were- no. Lisa clenched her hands tighter and took deep breaths. She could help. While she could not face a mob of people on her own, she knew where to get assistance. Fighting or rescuing people was outside her area of expertise, but her son, perhaps, could help.

Moving as quietly as possible, she used the trees to sneak around her home, heading off towards the main road. The crowd set off in the direction of Târgoviște then, some of the people having to go home, but a good number stayed with the priest and his prisoner.

Lisa went the opposite way, moving at a quick but deceptively casual pace as she crept behind buildings. Eventually she was out of the town, heading away from the city. Both her husband and son were away, traveling, but her son was due to return much sooner.

Ten minutes of worried silence, broken only by quick breaths and her own anxious thoughts, and Lisa caught sight of someone coming her way. The young man wore a dark cloak to cover him from the sun, but Lisa could spot her son anywhere.

"Adrian!" she cried, running to cover the distance between them.

"Mother?" he said, stopping to catch her as she hugged him, out of breath. "Are you alright? What has happened?"

Lisa trembled, looking up into Adrian's golden eyes. Stoic he may appear to some, but not his mother. His face had subtle stress lines, arms wrapping around her protectively.

"My son, something terrible has happened." She took in more air, trying to keep her voice steady. "I knew... I knew the villagers were becoming... inhospitable but-"

Adrian rubbed across her back, making soothing noises until she could continue in a calmer, but smaller voice. "They, they came for me my son. They came to accuse me of witchcraft." Her son tensed.

"That bishop." He spat the title like a curse. "We should never have let him see inside-" He sighed. "But that doesn't matter now. You're safe. I can sneak back to the house and grab a few things, then we should leave for the castle."

Her son's eyes were soft, but determined; they held a protectiveness in them that almost mirrored her husband's. Pride welled up, warm and soothing in her chest. Her son was growing up to be a fine man.

"No," she said, soft. It hurt to see the confusion in his eyes, but she pulled out of his embrace, keeping strong hands on his own. "They will not come for me yet. Because... A-another has taken my place."

She breathed around a sob, and spoke past her son's silent shock. "A young man defended me. He is not from the village, he didn't know me at all. He was very brave. But I'm afraid he will be given my punishment."

"Surely not," Adrian said, though he sounded unsure. "They will of course be displeased by his actions, but we should have enough time to get you safely to the castle, first."

"We may not. You see... the one who rescued me was a Belmont." Lisa was not surprised by the small gasp from her son's lips. "It seems they have not all been killed, though..."

"The church may seek to rectify that, yes."

"Then you see why we must help him," Lisa insisted. "No man willing to defend the innocent can be evil. He- He should not have to give his life for mine."

Adrian wrapped her in his arms once again as a few tears slipped down her face. She simply could not bear the thought of someone dying for her sake; It was unjust and cruel, especially when the young Belmont's family had already been taken from him.

"I understand, Mother. Of course we will find and assist him." Her son's eyes were soft again, and she couldn't help but stroke a few stubborn curls away from his face.

She was so very proud.

Chapter Text

Building to building Adrian crept, listening for any guards. Tracking the Belmont down had been easy enough. The blood spilled in front of the cottage had a particular, holy tang to it, clearly belonging to the hunter. He had followed the scent as a wolf, dodging in and out of the trees to hide as necessary, until he made it to the walls of Târgoviște.

Entering the city as a man had been no problem, but he then spent an hour tracking down the Belmont with his normal senses, seeing as Adrian hadn't wished to draw attention. Yet he managed, and now focused in on a small barracks, the closest one to the cathedral, and the spot where the Belmont's scent was strongest. Window to barred window he went, checking for scent or sound of the man. Finally, he found it.

A thick stench of earth, booze, and holy blood wafted out. Definitely the Belmont. He looked at the window. It was small, high on the wall, with bars spaced out, but easy access for Adrian. He glanced about again, double checking for guards. None.

He let a tingling sensation of magic sweep through him, stretching his fingers and shrinking his body until he took the shape of a small bat. Squeaking, he fluttered up the few feet to the window, and squeezed between the bars.

Inside, across the cell, the man tensed and immediately looked up at him, jumping to his feet in a ready stance. Good reflexes on that one, a hunter for sure, despite his current lack of weapons. Adrian squeaked once more in amusement, then shifted back into his normal form, feet landing lightly on the floor and cloak settling around him.

"What do you want here, vampire." The man looked straight at him, eyes ablaze with a fire that sent a shiver up Adrian's spine. This was a Belmont, a famed vampire hunter.

Adrian's heart sped its sluggish pace, whether in excitement or fear, he didn't know, and he tried not to let it show on his face, either.

"I come on behalf of my mother."

The Belmont interrupted, sneering. "Well if you've come to offer me anything, I'm not interested. And if you've come to see me dead in her name, you're too late."

"On the contrary," Adrian said, keeping his tone smooth, "It is because of you that she lives. We would repay that kindness."

Seemingly thrown off by the information, the Belmont took a few moments to respond. "I don't remember saving any leeches, much less any that would want to keep me from the church."

Adrian sighed. "I am Adrian Țepeș. My mother is the woman you rescued earlier today. Lisa Țepeș."

"Bullshit. That woman was human."

"And so is the part of me that she granted at birth, Belmont."

The hunter froze for but a few moments, slowly working through it, then laughed. It was not a happy one, but his lungs forced out the air, all the same.

"Of course," he said, almost to himself, "I save a woman I say is not a witch, and she's married to a vampire."

Adrian bristled. "My mother is not a witch. She is a doctor. Kind and compassionate, learned in the ways of science and healing others, even when they do not deserve it."

The Belmont's lip curled in response; a grin of nothing but teeth in a parody of Adrian's own expression. "Oh of course, if the vampire says so."

Adrian struggled for a moment. The Belmont's heart beat loudly in the small cell, and barely seven feet separated them. Without his weapons, he was defenseless, vulnerable. It made Adrian's instincts wild. He pushed them down with a practiced focus.

"You do not have to believe me, Belmont," he intoned, voice cool again. "I came here to repay a debt to your, seemingly accidental, kindness, and I shall do so. With or without your consent."

Belmont snorted. "I would rather die here than let you rip through an entire city of people. Unless you have some other way to get me out." His raised eyebrow was a purposeful taunt, and Adrian frowned.

Regardless, the Belmont was right. Adrian had no way to maneuver through the city with a hunted man, and his mother would be incredibly disappointed if he had to harm or kill humans to do so. Was his father due to return today?

"Do you know when they will carry out your punishment?" he asked.

"Tonight? What does it matter, bloodsucker? I've already said no." Belmont was not ready for a fight anymore, but still he stood far as possible, muscles tensing and untensing. A sigh slipped through Adrian's lips, and he lowered his hood to better look at the hunter.

The sun was lower in the sky, which made it easier on Adrian, but still bright enough to light part of the cell, as well as the Belmont. Bruises bloomed in reds and purples on his face, and his eyes puffed. More contusions undoubtedly marred the skin of the hunter under his clothes. A trail of blood had been wiped from his mouth, but Adrian still saw, and smelled, the damage.

With his features no longer hidden in shadows, Belmont took the opportunity as well, and looked at him more intensely than before. Those blue eyes, sharp as a mountain stream, took in every detail. Adrian shivered.

A few steps was all it took to reach the hunter, and one blocked punch gave Adrian control of his arms. Belmont kneed him in the groin, earning little more than a grunt and an unamused look.

"Really?" Adrian asked, tone flat. "Have some class."

He was certain the Belmont responded--something about "showing him class, bastard"--but voices from down the corridor caught his attention.

"Silence Belmont," he hissed, pressing the shorter man to the wall. He would never admit to feeling satisfaction at the hunter's hitched breath. "The city is too active now, and I do not relish trying to run you through a building of guards. I will come back when the sun is gone, once your captors release you from these walls. Be prepared."

"I do not need your help, vampire, nor do I want it," the Belmont said, pushing ineffectually against Adrian. Adrian was not amused.

"Is that so, hunter?"

"It is, leech." Somehow, somehow, even within the grip of a creature of the night, he stood tall, eyes blazing with a self-destructive fire. "I am Trevor Belmont, last son of the house of Belmont. And I fear no man, nor fucking beast."

Adrian gazed into those blue fires, transfixed. The man truly held no fear for him. No terror for his fate. At least, not now. Adrian could respect that determination, even if it would get the Belmont killed. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. No. Mother asked him to save this man, and he would; just not now.

Removing his hands, he backed away, returning to the window. The Belmont did not attack him.

"Two hours," he said, turning his head back to smile, "Be ready, Trevor."

With that, he transformed once again into a bat, flying out of the cell just before the guards could see.

Chapter Text

Light barely brushed the treetops as it sank ever lower, thrushes belting out their last evening song. Lisa sat at the base of a tree, hands on her knees as she tapped out a staccato rhythm.

She trusted her son to be quick and discrete. Yet the possible ways he might come to harm still floated through her head. He had discovered as a boy that sunlight did little to stop his normal activities. What it did do though, was dampen his vampiric abilities. Lisa had watched him do small transformations, but his speed, strength, and many other skills would be weakened or nonexistent.

She looked up. Light still filtered through the leaves. Bushes rustled as she stood up, jerking towards her home. If her son was going to risk himself for her request, to save the brave young man captured in her place, the least she could do was gather her doctor's kit for travel. She tried not to think of the reasons she might need it.

Creeping through the underbrush, she approached her cottage, swiveling her head to keep an eye out for villagers. Once, she had to carefully circle around to the opposite side of the clearing to avoid a pair of men. She recognized them; they often worked together as lumberjack and carpenter. Their wounds had been treated by her hand.

A harsh boiling started in her chest, but she pushed it down and focused. No one stood where she peeked out, so she sprinted to the back door and grasped the handle. A gentle push opened it, and she made sure to close it slowly and silently behind her.

Though she knew she was pressed for time, she paused to look around. Green herbs grew in small pots near the windows, a stray pair of shoes lay on the floor, and soft, curved furniture marked the way further in. Her home. Their home. Waning light convinced Lisa to move, her purpose in mind, but she couldn't help taking in small things as she went.

A small, cream colored shell Adrian had picked up from a distant shore. A sketch her husband had done of her as she researched. A wooden figure of a wolf pack that reminded her of their little family. Smile falling, she remembered she had commissioned it from the very carpenter outside her house.

Why were they turning on her? What had her family done to the village and nearby city other than offer assistance?

Chemical and herbal scents let Lisa know she had reached her small workshop. Digging in a solid shelving set revealed the traveling case for her medical work. Almost everything she needed for an emergency was inside, but she dashed about the room, grabbing a few more things she thought might be necessary.

Though she tried to be practical, she couldn't help but slip in a couple sentimental items. A sudden movement from outside one of the windows stopped her. Frozen, she looked out, but saw nothing. If someone had spotted her, it was time to leave.

She took her bag in hand, threw on a traveling cloak in the hall, and put her ear to the back door. Voices sounded from outside. Not that door then.

Lisa crept to the other side of the house, keeping an eye out for windows and ducking around or under them. The front door was not an ideal exit, but she would simply have to run fast. When she couldn't hear voices from behind it, she put her hand on the lever and pushed. Nothing.

Heart beating faster, she pushed with more force. The door wiggled, but did not move. It felt like something stopped it from the other side. Deep breathing helped her keep calm. She hadn't gone to see her front door earlier. She assumed the two men must have blocked it up, to keep her from easy entry. What if they-?

Banging and heavy clunks like falling wood made Lisa jump. They were trying to bar her doors, as she thought. Since there had been no yelling, they didn't know she was inside, so she could still- Another bang, closer, confused her.

With careful stealth, she moved towards it, peeking around a corner. More people from the village, people she knew, were outside closing the window shutters and clumsily attempting to bolt them in place. A nearby woman spotted her, and her breath stuttered.

"The witch is inside!" the woman shrieked.

Other shouts followed, rose in number and volume with each repeating. They called her witch and demanded she burn. Shuddering, Lisa escaped to the stairs leading to the upper floor, rocks and jeers following her flight. She looked back just as torches and oil flew inside, catching on the rugs.

A deep and dismayed gasp wracked her frame, but she couldn't go back. There would be no escape from the first floor, not with her former friends closing and guarding the only exits.

Upstairs, the floor held but two rooms, both of them private bedrooms: one for her son, and one she shared with her husband. Checking the window from her room, she noticed the small mob had moved in front of her house. They writhed in the flickering light from their torches, the sunlight having faded to nothing behind the forest. At least they would have trouble seeing her inside.

The window from Adrian's room faced the forest out back, and there were far fewer people that way. They all migrated towards the front of the house, likely for safety from the growing flames. Lisa had already spent several minutes just looking for an escape; She knew she would have to be swift to leave before she was burned alongside her home.

A quick search left her with few options for getting out. She could jump, but as a doctor, and mother to a very courageous young dhampir, she knew the risks were too large. If she broke, or even sprained, her ankle in the fall, the villagers would catch her.

Lisa considered tying some sheets and other cloth together, but was unsure if there was enough time to make it secure. The occasional coughing that wracked her frame told her no. Finally, she found something within the small trunk at the end of her bed. Silk rope.

A stubborn blush bloomed on her cheeks, despite the growing heat of the fire having already made her warm. She had forgotten about what she and Vlad had planned to try. Well, at least it would get some use.

The rope went with her to the other bedroom. It was strong, of course--it wouldn't have worked for her previous plans, otherwise. Lashed around the solid bed frame, it held at her tugging. Satisfied, she opened the window wider, bag hooked around her elbow and silk rope looped around her arms and in her hands.

There was no one left between her and the forest. Lisa descended.

It took a great amount of effort to lower herself slowly. She had to use the wall to stabilize herself, but it was growing hot, even on the outside. The silk rope shifted through her fingers, never straining, thank the Lord. But once she reached the first level, her burning muscles gave out, and she fell the last several feet to the ground.

Lisa felt her lungs lose a great whoosh of air as she impacted the grass, but overall, she felt okay. She was certain she could come out with only light bruising and scrapes. However, her fall and subsequent coughing to get air back caught the attention of a few people on the fringes of the crowd.

They pointed and shrieked at her escape; Lisa jumped to her feet, ignoring any pain, and bolted into the woods. She was unsure what path her son would take to get back, but she knew the approximate direction he would come from.

She swerved through underbrush and around trees, bag bouncing against her hip at every step, her head start against the mob the only advantage she had. Muscles burned and her energy was low, as she had gone without dinner.

A run through the forest would only get her so far before some of her pursuers caught her. When her foot tangled on a young bush, she feared they might capture her even sooner.

Instead of falling to the ground, however, Lisa was caught by strong arms.

"Mother," her son breathed, "Quickly, lean on me."

With her son's supernatural speed, they easily made their escape, the mob soon a murmur behind them.

"They will not follow so far. Not at this time of night. They are too frightened." Lisa looked up at the growl in her son's voice.

"Do not hate them, Adrian." She waited for his eyes to meet hers. "You're right, they are afraid. They simply do not understand, and others are taking advantage of that."

He snorted, softly, but just as soft, said, "Yes Mother."

Lisa let herself relax. It was a difficult concept to learn, much less accept, but she was certain her son would try his very best, even if he didn't understand just yet. Speaking of... She looked around, realizing she had not seen the young Belmont.

"Adrian? Where is he? The Belmont."

Her son stiffened under her touch. "I... I'm sorry Mother. I lacked the power to rescue him during the daylight hours. To attempt such without my abilities would have been dangerous, for Trevor and anyone in our way."

Worried settled into her brows, pulling them together. The young man would most likely be punished and killed that night, putting his rescue on a strict time limit. Adrian knew, Lisa could see the conflict behind his purposefully neutral expression, but he had chosen to spare innocents of the bloodshed that would have occurred had he acted rash.

Rubbing his arm, she said, "It is alright, my son. You did the right thing. Thank you." She stood on her toes to press a kiss to his brow.

Adrian huffed, but his mouth curved up at the edges. "I was hoping to find father, since he returns today. I could use his assistance in the rescue."

"A good idea. I'm certain he would be willing to help." She hummed as she thought. "We'll have to move towards the main road to find him."

"That's dangerous, but I think you're correct. We are short on time. I do not wish him to see what has become of the house, either."

"Ah, yes." Pain lanced through Lisa's heart, and she placed her palm over it. "I'm afraid he may come to the wrong conclusions."

Adrian nodded. "Shall we?"

If anything about the situation bothered her son, Lisa had to admit he was doing a good job hiding it. He kept a firm hand around her shoulders though, and Lisa thought she understood. Despite the many objects she lost today, she was perfectly happy to feel her son right beside her.

Chapter Text

Cool air rustled the trees, the leaves whispering in the breeze. Vlad took his time walking down the road. He listened around him, to the plants and animals, the soft pat of his footsteps on the packed dirt. He watched the stars peek out of the blue veil of the sky, watched the few human stragglers heading for the relative safety of their homes. He breathed deeply, and smelled. The crisp air alerting him to the slow death of summer, the raucous scents which came with any human settlement, and- ...fire. Blood.

Footsteps slowed, then stopped. Burnt wood assaulted his senses, recent and near. Small, dark stains trickled away from a break in the fence. Vlad turned off the path. Not caring for any noise he made, he marched through the brush, disturbing a small murder of crows which took flight at his intrusion.

When he reached the other side, he dropped his pack, unable to break his eyes away from the structure before him. His home; Lisa's home. It was nothing but a charred husk, burned and crumbled beyond recognition, even as small flames still guttered inside.

White noise filled his ears. Lisa, where was she? Her scent lingered... but was not burned. A few more steps took Vlad closer, but he couldn't bring himself to pass the garden. Long, thin furrows rent the ground closer to the house but gave him no explanation.

Measured footsteps reached him; he barely turned his head. It was the old woman Lisa had been taking care of when he left. A limp lingered in her steps, but they were sure enough to carry her. She stopped just to his side and hesitated.

"Are you Mister Țepeș?" she asked, voice brittle. "She said you might come back this night." Vlad was not in any mood for formalities. The woman knew who he was.

"What happened," he ground out. "Where is my wife?"

She paused for only a moment, making a soft tutting sound, like her voice had recently been choked with tears. "It's awful, sir. They came to take her for the bishop. Witchcraft they said. But I don't believe a word of it."

Witchcraft. Witches burned. Vlad curled his hands into fists, holding himself back from grabbing the old woman. She shifted her shawl with her bony hands, twisting her fingers.

"Your wife was good to me, a good doctor. She didn't deserve this." As she spoke, she looked at the house, or what was left of it.

"Where have they taken her?" Vlad turned his head to face the old woman. "The cathedral?"

"Oh, no sir," she said, sounding simultaneously relieved and frightened. "She got away both times. The men were angry about the last one. Didn't have anyone to blame when she escaped the house." She clutched her shawl tighter around herself, like shrinking into it would protect her from the eyes of others. "Said she ran off with a pale demon in the forest. Some said her son. But they weren't caught."

Vlad closed his eyes. He didn't need to see the relief nor the pity she turned on him. If Adrian had been here, then Lisa was safe; His son would see to that. She was likely being led to the castle now, if she wasn't being stubborn. Wait, stubborn.

"Both times?" Vlad opened his eyes and glanced at the old woman. His voice came out sharper when he asked, "They came for my wife twice?"

"Yes. Aside from, the burning," she shuddered around her words, "Once during the day. That was when the priest came. Oh, but there was a kind young man who defended her then, I heard about it." The small smile she had when she mentioned him disappeared as she continued. "Of course they weren't happy. Said he needed to be shown the ways of the Lord."

Vlad held back a scoff. Let the church do what they will with the boy. His only concern was to find his family. But then the woman said, "They called him a Belmont."

Ice crept through his body, freezing him with memories older than his soul. Belmont.

"Is it true?" he asked. He had to know.

"I don't know, sir. Father Iosif seemed to think so. They-" And here she paused, putting her hands to her cheeks as her face crumpled in mourning. "They said he is to be burned for conspiracy with witches. It's not right."

Thoughts began filling Vlad's head again, turning and turning like the gears in the castle's clock tower. A Belmont--still alive, still persistent--had saved his wife from execution, had taken her place at the stake. Foolish. So foolish. He had thought them all dead, thanks to the church. Now the last of Leon's would die because they couldn't stop being virtuous, even at their own expense. Vlad turned on heel and began stalking away. It wasn't his concern.

"O-oh! Mister Țepeș?"

He did not answer, merely went back into the forest. Following Lisa's request, he had traveled as a man, but by doing so, had nearly been too late to save his beloved wife. He would not make that mistake again.

Reaching deep within himself, he found his wolf form and arched into it. Traveling on the ground was an inconvenience, but since he had no clues as to the direction his wife and son fled, he would need to search for their scents. A little casting around led him to the part of the forest at the back of the house. Lisa's scent was old, but no more than two hours, so he took off after it. Not far from the house, his son's scent joined hers.

Vlad followed quicker then; both scents grew stronger as he looped around. He realized, as he followed them, that they gradually headed the direction he had come from. They had hoped to meet with him then. He mentally praised his son for his prudence; travel to his castle would be safest together.

When they finally came into view, Vlad couldn't help the excited woof which broke from his muzzle. His son was already facing him, tense state melting away as he recognized his father. Lisa--beautiful Lisa--turned around, skirt of her dress flaring as she looked at Vlad in surprise.

He changed form mid stride, running the last couple steps to wrap his family in a tight embrace. Lisa laughed in delight, and though Adrian sighed, Vlad felt his son return his hug, pulling their small group together.

"Vlad!" With his wife snuggled into his arms, he finally felt the lingering pressure of uncertainty lift from his shoulders. "We were looking for you."

"Indeed," his son said, "We require your assistance."

"Adrian," Lisa admonished, though with a smile still on her face. She placed Vlad's face between both of her hands. "We missed and worried for you as well."

"I am glad to see you." Vlad's voice was hushed, and he gazed at his wife and son, feeling warmth in his eyes. "Both of you."

Adrian smiled, eyes closed. Lisa pulled Vlad down and pecked his lips. While he could have stared into her eyes forever, the smile she held fell bit by bit, as her brow wrinkled with thought. Vlad allowed his arms to drop, releasing his hold on the two in his arms. Adrian, too, pulled back and assumed a position he would use for urgent situations, one hand settled on his sword.

"Adrian is right," Lisa said, concern creeping into her words, "There is a young man that requires our help. Did you see our- our home?"

"I did," Vlad confirmed, and nodded, "I was told the church came for you." He squeezed his wife's hands, to reassure himself.

"Yes. And this young man was taken in my place. He was very brave but... H-he can't be- He shouldn't die because of me." She held her bottom lip with her teeth, eye wet. "Vlad, it's been hours since he was taken to Târgoviște. With the villagers no longer looking for me... He'll be put to the stake soon."

With tender touches, he wiped at Lisa's eyes. "I see. I heard this boy was a Belmont." He glanced over at his son for assent.

"I confirmed it myself, Father. That man is, beyond any doubt, a Belmont." Strange fire flickered in Adrian's eyes as he spoke, as if he was seeing the boy in his mind, and liked what he saw.

Vlad hummed, and turned back to his wife. "And you wish him rescued, my love?"

Finally, Lisa grinned again, a sparkle in her eyes which chased away the fear. "Yes," she said simply. When he stood in silence, pondering, she brushed her thumbs over his hands.

"He is kind, my husband. For his help, no, because it is the right thing to do, because he has likely protected so many others, we must do so for him."

Determination from her eyes burned through him, warming his soul as it always did. He caught his son's stare.

"I would hear your opinion," Vlad said.

"I visited Belmont in his prison, but could do nothing for him," Adrian admitted. "With your aid, he might be saved."

Vlad pushed air from his nose. Though he did not need the breath, it helped him focus his thoughts.

"Very well." He watched the two faces of his family light up. "However, Lisa, my love, you must stay behind. We will make this a safe place for you, before we go."

"Of course, my love," she answered, a knowing smile on her face. "You needn't worry for your wife. She escaped two burnings today."

Vlad huffed and drew her in for another hug. "That is exactly what worries me."

She laughed and kissed him. "I will be safe. Go." They kissed once more before he straightened and turned towards Târgoviște.

"Come my son. I go with you, to rescue the Belmont." He paced away.

"Something I did not believe I would hear," said Adrian.

Vlad's keen ears caught his wife's laugh. A few whispered words and gestures from his fingers had powerful wards spring up around them, negating entrance for any other beings besides themselves. Vlad stopped a short distance away, watching his son embrace Lisa once more. His posture spoke of hesitation. "Mother, please be careful."

"Of course, my son. I will give you no cause for disquiet while you are away."

He pulled back, arms brushing against hers for as long as possible. "I am more concerned now. You are daring and wonderful, but you ran straight into danger, last I left."

"And you," she said, pushing teasingly at her son's chest, "Are as maudlin as your father."

Adrian blushed, looking away. "Mother."

She laughed and shooed her hands towards her husband. "I have given a promise my son. You had better follow after him. Trevor waits."

Adrian purposefully turned to walk then, movements stiff with embarrassment as Lisa's ringing laughter followed. Vlad raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He knew all too well the charms of a Belmont.

Chapter Text

Rough rope pulled at Trevor's skin, harsh tugs only adding to the chaffing on his arms. As much as he wanted to struggle or spit curses at his captors, his eyes wandered the crowd, thoughts distracted with a blonde man.

Two hours. Be ready, Trevor.

He let a cynical chuckle escape him. Like he should have expected honest help from a vampire. Or a dhampir. The thought rolled around in his head for a moment. He had saved a woman with a half-breed son. One who cared for her enough to... to what? Promise to rescue him then not come back?

When the rope stretched him into his final upright position against the stake, arms trapped behind his back and breath limited by the cords wrapped tightly about his torso, he looked to the men finishing the knots.

"Don't suppose either of you killed someone who was actually a threat today? Say a vampire?"

"Shut up, Belmont," one drawled. "You won't get us with your sorcery. The bishop is here."

The two men left, and Trevor looked down. Dressed in pompous fucking robes, sneering at the whole sight, was the bishop. Praise the fucking Lord. Despite the look on his face though, Trevor knew he hadn't caught anyone else. The condemned woman--Lisa, he reminded himself--was not tied up next to him. No one had mentioned her, or her son, while walking past his cell. The bishop definitely looked like the type of man to gloat, but Trevor was the only one here.

Good, a small part of him thought, Good, they've killed enough people. Burned enough families.

If he didn't think too hard about what that family consisted of, he could almost believe he'd been right to protect them.

A man walking forward with a lit torch dragged his attention from his musings. Tossed forward, it made a small, beautiful arc into the kindling, catching the small materials instantly. A cheer went up from the assembled crowd, the faithful joyous in their community being rid of another evil.

"Another Belmont to the pyre," Trevor muttered sardonically, "The church must be so proud."

Closing his eyes, Trevor leaned his head back and swallowed the grief which bobbed in his throat. He wouldn't have to worry about it for much longer, the pyre would see to it; though he had been sure he would go out a different way.

When he was younger, Trevor had known, known with his entire being, he would die taking out a powerful monster, or several at once. Once his family was murdered and he wandered, Trevor had been sure he would fall asleep one night, drunk and cold, and just never wake up. He certainly hadn't expected to go the same way as his family, but he supposed the parallel was appropriate. Even still, Trevor refused to go quietly.

Opening his eyes once again, he fixed on the bishop, talking to the bearded man next to him--the mayor by how well-fed he looked. He couldn't hear their conversation, so he raised his own voice to be heard.

"Your Holiness," Trevor said, making the title sarcastic, "Couldn't bother to build a gallows for me? Were you just so excited to see me die that you couldn't bother, or is that a lack of imagination?"

The bishop scowled, and Trevor thought he just might laugh. "We will hear nothing from your wicked tongue, heretic. You conspire with witches and demons, like the rest of your family." As his smile grew, Trevor's slid off. "It is only right your share their punishment."

Trevor would likely have continued the arguments and taunts, but the flames had grown high enough to begin licking at his feet. He sucked in a breath and held it until the flame went down again. He looked down to see his reddened toes. Most of his clothes and equipment had been taken, which left him with only his trousers and tunic, Belmont family crest emblazoned proudly on both sides. Trevor imagined they wanted him to die as an obvious Belmont.

He figured he must have been right when the bishop gestured to someone off to the side. "Throw in the heretic's weapon."

Trevor's heart gave a particularly hard thump as he watched Vampire Killer get thrown onto the wood in front of him. It laid in spools of leather, bathed in orange, but clearly not catching. Discontented mutters started in the crowd, and even the bishop had displeased creases around his eyes.

"It's blessed," Trevor said, tone implying you idiots. "You think a little fire is going to burn it? How would we have killed demons otherwise?"

"Blessed," the bishop scoffed, "Made with black magic and alchemy, more likely."

Yet no one moved to take it out, the fire hot enough to discourage them.

It didn't take long for the flames to come back to Trevor. Up and down they went, teasingly licking at his feet and calves, giving him small burns and singeing his hairs. The smoke was the worst though. It floated up in thick clouds, filling his lungs and preventing any deep breaths. It definitely put a damper on his coping mechanism for pain, as every gulp of air would come out in rattled coughs, each time sounding closer and closer to a sob.

As the flames climbed in earnest, reaching higher on his legs and peeling the skin away from the soles of his feet, Trevor finally let out a scream. He tried to lock each one behind his teeth, but the pain rolled through him in waves, burning his trousers and ripping yells from him with each touch of fire on his nerves.

Yells not his own joined him as he remembered his family. His heart broke in his chest as he finally realized what his poor sisters had gone through, what his parents had to suffer as they tried desperately to escape their own house.

As the pain grew in intensity, Trevor wondered if he would ever black out. His screams were only ever interrupted by coughs which wracked his chest, thick and dry.

It was right after one of his fits, right as he had enough breath to scream again, when the fire suddenly shifted, swirling around him and exploding outward. His breath left him in a surprised yelp instead, leaving him light-headed.

Flames parted around him in a circle, and though he was having a hard time seeing straight, the part of the fire wall right in front of him looked to have formed a skull. Or maybe a face? Then it spoke, and Trevor jolted.

"What have you done?" boomed the fire voice.

Trevor heard dismayed cries of "The Devil!" going up around the square. The bishop himself seemed to be speaking as well, a prayer from what Trevor could make out.

"My name is Vlad Dracula Țepeș, and you will tell me why you burn my wife's protector."

Trevor choked again, but not from smoke. No, in fact he had realized he was no longer being harmed in any way. Dracula--fucking Dracula--protected him from his pyre and chastised his torturers. Dracula was Lisa's husband. The dhampir was Dracula's son. He had saved Dracula's family. Of course, Țepeș, he had said so before in Trevor's cell.

Small, broken chuckles poured from his mouth, hitching around burned lungs. He leaned his head forward, not listening to the conversation the bishop was having with the prince of the night. God, his life was fucked up.

Only as he kept leaning forward did he realize he was cut loose. A strong, but slender arm wrapped around his torso, and the coolness of it shocked him. Trevor looked up as he was shifted around, recognizing the dhampir with arms under his back and thighs. Adrian Țepeș.

"Belmont," he said. The look in his eyes was not something Trevor wanted to analyze--it looked too much like worry.

"P-put me down." Trevor coughed, turning his face away. The dhampir merely held him tighter in response.

"Absolutely not. You are in no condition to be walking, much less running through the streets of Târgoviște."

Trevor grunted as the cold hand under his legs brushed fire-blistered skin. It loosened and he heard a murmured, "Forgive me." Black dots danced in Trevor's vision, and his head rolled until he hit something solid. It must have been the dhampir's shoulder, as those bright golden eyes--dancing in the light of the fire--stared right at him.

"I'm sorry we were so late, Trevor." He shivered at the use of his personal name. It took a few tries, but he finally managed to get words out.

"Does daddy dearest know you're saving a Belmont?"

"He does." The simplicity of the answer stunned Trevor into silence, his thoughts too muddled to make sense of. "Does that surprise you?"

Trevor didn't answer. He hadn't realized how tired he was until then. It felt like he was floating, and even his burns numbed to his exhaustion. The dhampir, son of Dracula and Lisa, Adrian Țepeș, carried him to the edge of the fire wall, gentleness in every movement.

"You came back," Trevor muttered. He wasn't really sure what he was saying, but continued. "Could just... leave me. Deserve it. Didn't even know..."

He couldn't finish his thought, a heaviness settling in his bones and on his eyes. He hadn't known who Lisa was when he saved her. Hadn't know about Adrian. About Dracula. Yellow, red, and gold flickered behind Trevor's eyelids.

He got no response, but he thought he felt the fingers on his back rubbing small circles. Trevor cringed as a loud boom echoed behind him, followed by a wash of heat. No pain accompanied it though, and Trevor felt Adrian leap forward. Shouts followed behind them, angry and scared and surprised. But as cool wind blew across Trevor's heated skin, he thought he might not mind being rescued, just the once.

Chapter Text

Soft shifting reached Trevor's ears, slowly bringing his mind into focus from where it floated in sleep. Trevor felt a mattress beneath him. Not a straw one either, one filled with feathers and covered in silken sheets. He hadn't slept on anything like it since... since his home burned.

Fire, that's right! Trevor's eyes snapped open, blurry but determined to figure out his situation. He had been burning, but the fire had turned into Dracula? Maybe he drank too much and he was still hallucinating. A quiet huff of air drew Trevor's attention.

Adrian. He knelt at the side of the bed, face and arms on the mattress next to Trevor's covered legs. Golden hair spilled over his shoulders, a loose black ribbon no longer holding the strands in place. With his cloak and coat gone, Trevor could see he wore a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows like he had been working. So then, he really had been rescued. The dhampir kept his promise.

Trevor looked around the room rather than dwelling on the stir of emotions in his chest. Walls and floor were built of stone, with thick curtains over the sole window, and only a couple of candles lighting the space. Other than the--rather large--bed he lay in, there was a finely carved wardrobe, writing desk, nightstand, and several chairs.

The desk was covered in herbs and tools Trevor only recognized from his father. While Sonia Belmont had been an accomplished hunter, her husband had excelled at research, both into the human body and those of monsters. He had written many entries in the Belmont bestiary and nursed Trevor back to health too many times to count. Yet his knowledge had eventually repulsed and scared the townsfolk. Lisa had likely been accused of witchcraft for similar reasons.

While Trevor had inspected the room, the dhampir hadn't stirred; small gusts of air fluttered the strands of hair which fell down his face. So, dhampirs breathed. Trevor brought his hands to his face and sighed, or tried to. Even that movement took effort, and one hand didn't move at all.

His left hand was caught up with a more slender one, fingers twined together. Trevor stared, but the image didn't change. He tugged. Nothing. Even while sleeping, the dhampir had a firm grip on Trevor's hand. Dammit.

He probably wasn't going to be leaving... wherever he was anytime soon. Where was he? The door to his left opened, nary a squeak to it, but the figure who stepped in made Trevor tense.

Tall, dark hair, pale skin, and movements which screamed of both inhuman grace and practiced nobility. Trevor had never seen Dracula, had never hoped to, but there he stood in the doorway, sharp eyes sweeping the room.

They locked eyes, neither moving to speak. Trevor was inordinately proud he didn't shake under the gaze. Dracula looked away first, glancing at the hands clasped together on the bed.

"I see my son has finally managed to calm you," said Dracula.

Something in his tone had Trevor blushing from his ears to his shoulders. His automatic tug got his hand nowhere, so he steeled himself and worked a grin that was all teeth onto his face.

"I guess he's a leech in more than one way." Trevor felt his first tremor of fear at the anger which burned behind Dracula's eyes. Shit, I messed up, he thought.

"You will show respect for my son," Dracula said, his low volume menacing nonetheless. But Trevor never backed down because of fear.

"Or what? I almost died today," he said, "You going to throw me back to the church?"

Dracula stalked closer to the bed, looming over Trevor. All his muscles locked up and a shiver crawled up his spine.

"It is because of Adrian you live. He carried you here, he assisted my wife in treating your wounds, and it is thanks to his diligence and undue kindness that you stopped crying out in the night and slept." Every word Dracula uttered grew more heated, but instead of fear, Trevor could feel something like mortification settling in his stomach. "You owe him much, least of which is your respect. Or have the Belmonts forgotten simple charities?"

"Shut up," Trevor hissed, "Don't speak about my family. You know nothing of them."

Dracula narrowed his eyes. "I know much of the house that has declared an eternal hunt for me. And I know how they died."

Trevor saw red. If his muscles hadn't screamed in protest, Trevor might have gotten up from the bed. As it was, all he managed to do was raise himself to a sitting position, stutter a "Fuck you," and fall back down. The movement was enough to rouse the dhampir next to him, as Adrian huffed and opened his eyes, blinking.

"Eloquent, Belmont." Dracula paused then, and looked at his son. "But I am not ignorant of the good you have done. You have spared my wife from the fate your family held, and so I am grateful. Rest, Belmont."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Trevor spat, trying and failing to get up again.

"Trevor?" Adrian looked at him now, frowning. A sigh brought his attention back to the bigger threat.

"Rest," Dracula commanded.

Trevor did not get time for another retort, as the vampire's eyes glowed red and his body suddenly felt much heavier, like gravity was dragging his soul down. He watched, detached, as a woman who had to be Lisa walked in, then his eyes slipped closed and he fell into the dark abyss of sleep.

The last thing he heard was an admonishing, "Vlad! Did you just enthrall our guest?"

Chapter Text

Rhythmic breathing filled the room, the only other sounds a clink of glass and clack of wood as Adrian set down a drinking vessel and tonic for later use. The man in the bed had a more relaxed visage when he slept, though it had taken magic to get him there. Adrian's brows creased as he thought on what his father had done. He was certain Trevor wouldn't appreciate it--his mother certainly hadn't--but if it helped him to rest properly, Adrian saw little harm in it.

The way Trevor had cried out before, wrestling with nightmares of himself and his family burning... Adrian clenched his hands. He hadn't even been sure when the man woke or slept, as he had tossed and screamed no matter whether his eyes opened or not. Adrian had been forced to hold him still while his mother treated the burn wounds.

Finally, after too long, hours even, Adrian had discovered close, reassuring contact with Trevor kept him calm; though he reacted most favorably to the cooler temperature of Adrian's hand.

He had gladly stayed behind while his mother went to get some much needed rest, clutching the Belmont's hands and soothing him with his touch. Waking up just in time to see an angry Trevor get sent to sleep like a child was disorienting, but not unexpected.

Pulling a chair next to the bed, Adrian sat and watched the man. His face had some wrinkles, pulling together at the forehead as if he was thinking. Either it was another nightmare, or Trevor would wake. Adrian took a hand in his, just to be safe.

The movement made Trevor's breath hitch, and he moved his head back and forth, groaning, before he opened his eyes. Bright blue bounced distractedly around the room before narrowing in on Adrian. Trevor pulled at his occupied hand, so Adrian let it slip away.

"Good evening, Trevor." He got a snort in return.

"Is it? What, daddy Dracula himself couldn't be here to keep me in line?"

Adrian sighed through his nose. "You were getting worked up. I heard you attempted to get out of bed?"

"Hell yes I tried to get up. Being Dracula's 'guest' in whatever mansion this is- Where am I anyway?"

"Castlevania."

Adrian had to practically leap out of his chair to hold Trevor down.

"What? Castle- Let me up you bastard!" Trevor's eyes were wild, moving about as rapidly as his hands in a panicked attempt to escape the bed. Adrian's soothing noises did nothing.

"Our house burned down, Trevor-"

"Don't call me that!"

"...Belmont. The mob burned our house down, and even if they hadn't, this is the safest place now."

The laughter which followed sounded unhinged. Trevor had stopped trying to get up, but now squeezed his hands around Adrian's wrists, body shaking.

"Safe? My ancestors have died here." He bared his teeth, tried for bravado the way he had in the prison cell, but he was still tired, and rattled, too. "Are you waiting for something? I've already said I'm not interested in whatever you want from me. Might as well just get it over with."

Adrian stared at the man. "Truly Tr- Belmont, how paranoid. We do wish to keep you safe. We would not bring you into our very last escape otherwise."

"Yeah, that's why I feel like shit," Trevor scoffed.

"You were nearly burned alive," Adrian said, voice deadpan, "You are quite lucky Mother and Father are so skilled in the sciences."

"Yes, I'm so lucky. Trapped in a vampire's stronghold, God must truly love me."

Adrian looked closely at Trevor, even as the hunter turned his face away. He sounded like he didn't care in the least, with his voice evening out, but his body language was the exact opposite. Tremors--so subtle only his vampiric senses detected them--ran across Trevor's arms, and his heart beat hard in his ribs.

As calm as he could, so as not to alarm the Belmont, Adrian pulled his hands away. When the injured man made no move to get up again, he grabbed the items from the nightstand and set about pouring some tonic into a cup.

"How long are you going to keep me here, assuming you don't kill me." Exasperated heat flooded Adrian's chest and he glared, though Trevor was still looking away.

"We are not going to kill you, Belmont. My mother and I are watching your recovery for complications." He moved to Trevor's side and touched his shoulder. The jump he got was satisfying, as was the speed in his heart rate, though for different reasons Adrian refused to admit. "I am going to help you sit up. Carefully."

"Not like you'll give me a choice," Trevor grumbled. He allowed Adrian to wrap his hands and arms in the right places to lever Trevor up, but made no move to assist.

"Quite right," Adrian huffed. He fluffed up the pillows and carefully leaned Trevor back against them. "Here."

He grabbed the cup and held it out to Trevor, who wrinkled his nose.

"What is that? Smells like the backside of a tavern. Trying to sneak blood into my system?"

"I swear Belmont, you are like a child. This is why my father put you to sleep." Trevor tensed, angry lines crossing his neck, so Adrian backtracked in a softer voice. "It is a tonic my mother made. It will assist your healing, and make sure your body is strong enough to fight off potential infection."

Trevor made no move to take the cup. "Yeah, and what's in it?"

Adrian listed off several herbs and other plants in the mixture, surprised when Trevor interrupted with, "Honey?" Adrian smiled.

"For children who won't take their medicine." His smile slipped some as Trevor only stared at him. "Ah, well that's what my mother always said."

"What, when you were a kid?" Trevor finally reached out and wrapped his fingers around the cup. Adrian relaxed, even though the hunter only stared at the liquid and swirled it around.

"Yes. When I was sick she..." Adrian hesitated; it was personal. He relented when Trevor looked up at him.

His gaze held no malice, none of the anger or fear of before, just curiosity. It was a step forward, and Adrian wanted to encourage it. He swallowed past the clenching in his throat.

"When I was sick, I refused to take any medicine unless it tasted pleasing. Mother had to get creative with her mixtures, and ended up incorporating honey into a number of them."

Trevor made a terse sound which might have been a laugh. "What a brat." His cheeky smile disappeared behind the rim of the cup as he took his first sip.

Adrian nearly wilted with relief when he didn't spit it out. "I'm told I was a difficult child when I was ill."

"I imagine a dhampir was always a difficult child."

Adrian simply hummed at the side look Trevor threw him. Certain aspects would have been difficult for his mother, had she been on her own. But for everything she had trouble with, his father would be there. They each made up for each other's weaknesses, human and vampire, and Adrian was proud of that.

Settling down in the chair nearby, Adrian watched Trevor drink the whole cup. To his credit, Trevor no longer flinched from his gaze, and his heart had calmed to a strong, steady rhythm. Adrian took the cup from Trevor when he was done, then hesitated a moment more before speaking.

"I never thanked you for helping my mother. Not properly."

Trevor blinked and scratched at his head. "Wasn't that... the reason you came for me?"

Adrian hummed. "In a sense. But that was also my mother's request. She did not wish for you to die. Because of that, I do not believe it can function as my thanks."

"Whatever." Trevor waved his hand back and forth. His jaw muscles worked as he held back a yawn. "Think what you want."

Adrian made a knowing sound and set the cup aside, standing to help Trevor lay down again. Ignoring the strands of his hair which had escaped his ribbon--again--Adrian leaned down with Trevor and whispered in his ear.

"Rest assured Belmont, I shall pay you back for what you have done for me."

Trevor shivered as Adrian stood back up. "I don't need your thanks, fangs."

"...Perhaps not," Adrian conceded. He felt the frown tilt his mouth. "But you deserve my apologies."

"For what?" Trevor looked surprised again. "If it's for kidnapping me, I know how you can fix that."

"It is not for your rescue," said Adrian, coming close to rolling his eyes. "It... it is for coming nearly too late. After I promised..."

His hand ached for contact, twitching towards the warm, calloused one on the bed, though he held himself back. Trevor let out an over exaggerated sigh.

"So, what, you wanna thank me and apologize? Why don't we just cancel those out and call it even."

"That isn't how-"

"Alright, great," Trevor interrupted, "So we'll start over."

Adrian huffed, but the hand held out to him kept him quiet.

"I'm Trevor Belmont. Thanks for keeping me at your creepy castle while I'm injured, you can let me leave now."

A bubbling feeling started in Adrian's stomach, bursting out as genuine laughter which surprised both men. He slipped his cooler hand into the Belmont's, grasping lightly.

"Adrian Țepeș. Go to sleep, Trevor."

The hunter scoffed, flushing, and turned his head away. "Fine, whatever."

Adrian sat down, determined to keep an eye on his guest--for his own safety, of course. He felt the stupid smile stay on his face for a long while, and not even a whispered, "It was worth a try, anyway," could wipe it off.

Chapter Text

Up and down. Air entered the chest and it rose, left and it fell. Such a small thing, but without it, humans would die. This was what Vlad pondered as he stood in the room where Trevor Belmont rested.

When they had reached the castle, and a few times before, the human had coughed, unable to breathe properly with all the damage from smoke inhalation. Though Vlad had little use for such magic, he had purified the air around the Belmont each time, easing his breathing. As he watched the same chest rise with no issues, he admitted, if only to himself, that saving one of Leon's own left him with a warm feeling. Deep, deep down, where Mathias was buried.

The breathing pattern changed, alerting Vlad to his guest's wakefulness before he opened his eyes. A few blinks and a murmur like "Adrian" was uttered before the hunter noticed who was actually in the room.

Vlad felt a corner of his mouth curl in amusement as the boy froze, then scowled in a futile attempt to cover his fear.

"My son needs rest as well, Belmont," Vlad explained.

"What would I need him for?" The boy responded with ample vinegar in his tone, enough so it almost kept his heart from stuttering. "Or are you here to tend to my wounds, hm? Prescribe a bloodletting?"

Vlad hoped his look was severe enough to impart his sincerity with his words. "I have never bitten a Belmont. Your clan made quite clear their opinion on the matter with the first to declare the hunt. No Belmont shall turn under my fangs."

"Really." Though his eyes stared with a flat look, and his voice was skeptical, the Belmont seemed to believe him after some time. Or he dropped the subject, anyway. "Then what are you here for, vampire."

"To keep watch."

"Just that." Vlad raised a brow but said nothing. Trevor snorted. "Right, and I'm the pope."

Vlad let out a huff of air. "As amusing as that would inevitably be," he said, moving closer, "I am also to prevent you from 'doing anything foolish.'"

"Like getting out of bed and escaping?" The Belmont sat up and tried to hide a wince as he shifted his legs. "Belmonts are never fools."

Vlad raised a brow so high, he wondered if it might touch his hairline. "Certainly."

"See where he gets it from," the boy muttered.

Vlad said nothing as the Belmont moved one leg, then another, using his hands to maneuver them when his legs wavered. Only when both bandaged limbs hung from the bed did the older man speak up.

"You are not well enough to stand. With the damage your feet have sustained, it is a wonder you have feeling in them."

"Watch me." Belmont glared, fear gone, only determination burning in his blue eyes. Vlad suddenly understood his son's fascination; if he'd had any doubt before the boy was Leon's progeny, it was gone.

That did not exempt Belmont from stupidity.

As soon as his feet touched the floor, the pain overwhelmed him. His eyes blew wide and he hissed through his teeth as he wobbled, his body overcompensating as it attempted to get away from the pain of standing.

Vlad was there in a blur of movement, catching the boy around the back and thighs, lifting him from the floor. He tsked, even as the boy struggled against his grip.

"I did warn you," he said mildly.

"Let go," Belmont growled, shoving and punching Vlad's chest. "What is it with you vampires picking me up?"

"Does this happen often, Belmont?" Vlad maneuvered the boy back onto the bed, holding his chest down as he pulled the covers back over his legs. "How many times have you been under the tender care of your enemies?"

"Enemies, huh? Good to see watching me hasn't changed anything."

Vlad easily caught the blow aimed at his head, forcing the Belmont's arms to his sides while firmly tucking the sheets in around and under him. Struggling did not change his position, and blood flowed to his face with each wiggle. He spat colorful words under his breath, but Vlad could see he was tiring quickly. Attempting to stand had done him no favors.

"If I had my weapons," hissed the Belmont, "You'd be dead."

One eyebrow rose on Vlad's face, but he didn't respond. Instead, he walked over to the wardrobe, feeling the boy's eyes follow him. With one dramatic sweep, he opened the nearest door, revealing the Belmont holy whip hanging on an inside hook, right next to a stitched up tunic with the family's crest. The wide-eyed stare and gaping mouth were immensely satisfying to see on the Belmont.

"Whatever other weapons you had are still in custody of the church. I would suggest you consider them lost," Vlad said.

"Damn it." Judging by the Belmonts' usual stock, he had likely lost multiple blades and bottles of holy water, at least. His gaze remained on the whip for a time, migrating to the tunic and back, as though he couldn't believe his own eyes. When he finally looked back at Vlad, he assumed a skeptical expression.

"How do I know that's Vampire Killer?"

With a blank expression, Vlad held out a hand and grabbed the whip. Sizzling instantly filled the air, and red blisters popped up on his hand around the blessed material. With a casual motion, he set the whip back on the peg, murmuring an apology too low for the Belmont to hear.

"Satisfied, Belmont?"

The Belmont stared for a moment more, moving his mouth to say, "You had better not have gotten any blood on my whip."

Vlad turned his hand to show the extent of the burn, even as it began the healing process. No blood.

"...Why, did you bring it? How?"

"It should be quite apparent after that demonstration that I am capable of picking it up. I needed only to carry it a short distance before my wife could take it for me."

"Yes, but why?" the boy said, voice soaked in impatience.

Vlad looked him directly in the eyes. "Because you saved the love of my life."

"I-I-" Trevor snorted, but his eyes were wide and he still stumbled over his words.

Vlad used the time to close the wardrobe door, shutting out the incessant whisperings of the whip's soul.

"That shouldn't mean anything," the boy finally managed. "I didn't do it for you. The church burns enough innocents, calling them heretics. How should I have known Lisa was married to you? If I had-"

"Then what?" the prince of darkness interrupted. He walked to the side of the bed again, looking down at the last Belmont. "What would you have done differently? It was not for me, as you said, so you rescued Lisa for some other reason. Perhaps..."

"Perhaps what?" Belmont was bristling again, and Vlad could see fires of the past in his eyes. "No matter why I did it, my family has hunted you for generations. This changes nothing." He enunciated each word with venom.

Looking at the Belmont boy wrapped in sheets, cocoa brown hair disheveled and cheeks flushed almost to pouting, Vlad pushed down the fledgeling desire to smile at his fervored posturing and sing him to sleep. This was not his son. This young man was one of his eternal enemies. The only one left of the generation. A small spark lit in Vlad, an idea slowly taking root in him.

"And what of my wife, Belmont?"

"What about her?"

Vlad allowed his voice to dip deeper. "Do you bring her into our feud?"

"What? No-" Belmont paused, started up softer but no less serious, "No. Belmonts don't involve humans for no reason."

Vlad hummed. Being married to their generations long enemy was not enough to draw the ire of this hunter? How noble.

"And you?" The Belmont drew his attention back with the pointed question. "How many people did you kill with your little fire stunt?"

"...None." Trevor made a sound of disbelief. "It is Lisa's wish that we do not kill unnecessarily."

"So. You show up in flames. Taunt the bishop. Leave with the Belmont burning at the stake." His voice rose with each item, each accusation. "And you don't think they'll institute more witch hunts?"

"I highly doubt the bishop will forget what I've... done to him so soon." He would not ignore Lisa's request not to kill, but the bishop who accused his wife and condemned those who would protect her deserved to feel what it was to burn.

"That's worse," groaned the Belmont. He sighed and finally looked away, wilting into the bed. "Not like he didn't deserve whatever you did, but."

An interesting opinion, but one Vlad would have to explore at a later time. The Belmont's defeated posture had given him a further idea, so he sat down at the edge of the bed and pulled back the covers over the boy's legs. Belmont tensed, heart once again racing. Vlad didn't pay attention to what he stuttered or demanded, simply held his legs still as he unwound some of the bandages.

Deep red blotches and glistening white tissue peeked out, getting progressively lighter further up the legs. Many of the blisters were gone, and Vlad knew his wife would be taking care of the after effects. Instead, he focused on the worst areas: the feet. Drawing his magic to him, soft light emanated from his fingers and sank into the burned skin beneath.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Such crassness, Belmont. I am assuring a complete recovery. One does not walk away from their own pyre unscathed, as I'm sure your little antic attempting to stand reminded you." The redness of the burns grew fainter as Vlad used his magic to encourage the skin to heal and grow.

"W-whatever you're doing..." The boy valiantly held a yawn behind his teeth. "Stop."

"Very well." His skin looked better, even with such a short spell, so Vlad wrapped up clean pressure bandages from the desk and tucked the Belmont back in. The boy himself was blinking rapidly, trying to stave off his own exhaustion. "Sleep, Belmont."

"Don't you put me to sleep again," he warned.

"It appears I do not need to," Vlad said, watching the boy's head loll to the side. "Your body requires repose to properly recover. The healing takes energy from your own stores, as well. Rest, and you will eat when you wake."

Though he fought off sleep for a few more moments, mumbling the whole time, Belmont eventually closed his eyes. When his breathing slowed, Vlad took a seat in a nearby chair. Any other questions would have to wait, but he was not displeased with the answers thus far.

Despite his desperate attempts to hide it behind insults and veneers of enmity, the Belmont had an even bigger heart than Leon.

Chapter Text

"Just here." Lisa gestured to the large bathing tub. "Place him in gently."

Adrian stepped up, Trevor in his arms, and carefully lowered the sleeping man into the sloped tub so his legs and head were propped up. He shifted at the feeling of warm water on his back and groaned as he attempted to wake.

"Thank you, my son."

Adrian pulled closer to give her a brief embrace. "Call for my assistance when you're done." Then he left the room.

After checking for necessary supplies, Lisa turned her attention to her patient. His eyes were open now, looking blearily around the room. She reached forward, brushing her fingers over Trevor's shoulder to get his attention.

"Trevor? We've moved to another room now. How are you feeling?"

Trevor grumbled. "Fine? Floaty."

Lisa smiled indulgently. "Yes, that would be the pain medicine. We had to increase the dose a little for this. Your burns need a full debridement." When Trevor furrowed his brows and made a confused noise she clarified, "I have to clean your burns, more thoroughly than before. It may hurt when I remove the dead skin, though I will be as gentle as I can."

"I can handle pain."

"Of course. I know how brave you are." Something in her tone made Trevor turn away, a shy tilt to his shoulders. "But as a doctor..." Lisa paused. That wasn't quite right. She looked at the shoulder she held. Small scars crossed under her fingers, over the skin of his arms and chest, and one over his left eye looked particularly deep. "You don't deserve any more pain, Trevor."

He didn't respond, but Lisa didn't push him. Instead, she began removing the bandages on Trevor's legs, unwinding them slowly and watching as some dead skin came with them.

"Your wounds are already looking better," she said, making conversation simply to fill the air. Sometimes her patients were more comfortable when she would make simple comments. "I'm moving down towards your calves, and those have deeper burns, so there may be more pain, okay?"

Trevor grunted. Lisa continued until she got to his feet; only then did he hiss and move like he was trying to get away. The burns were worse there, dark red and still blistered. Lisa clicked her tongue against her teeth as she set the soiled bandages in a basket.

"You've put pressure on your feet. Though it doesn't look as bad as it should..."

"Y'know..." Trevor said, head flopped over to face Lisa, "Dracula healed me." A few unsteady giggles followed the statement.

"Good," Lisa said, patting at the burns with a wet cloth. A feeling like warm tea filled her as she thought of Vlad. "He is trying. The fact that he's using his magic for you means a lot."

"M'... My family had magic. Long time 'go."

"Is that so?" Trevor hummed. The Belmont family was only known as a group of heretics in recent times, killed for reasons the church made more severe each time they were questioned. Lisa wasn't too surprised to hear they had wielded magic; The knowledge would have made them easier targets.

"But you don't have magic."

"No, I do not," she confirmed. "But I can treat your burns with what I've learned of medical science."

Trevor flinched as she rubbed over a sensitive part of his leg, but when he recovered, his gaze went through her, as if he stared into the past.

"Remind me of my father," he muttered.

Lisa gently lifted a leg, reaching for the muscled area of the calf and behind the knee. "He was a man of science then?"

"Knew a lot," Trevor agreed, wiggling but not moving from Lisa's hold. "Studied 'n took care of us while... while Mother hunted."

"He sounds wonderful. I'm going to move to your ankles, alright?"

Trevor was silent for several minutes, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as his legs and feet were cleaned. Lisa hoped they were kinder memories from his past. Rubbing at the dead skin removed everything the bandages had not, and Vlad's small healing session had sped up the recovery of the new skin beneath.

When Lisa looked up, Trevor's eyes were closed. With a fond smile on her face, she pulled out a clean cloth, then rubbed it across some of her Marseille soap. She washed the rest of his body, noting how he relaxed when she scrubbed her fingers through his hair.

Seeing Trevor finally tranquil eased her heart. The young man was kind, though he hid it under protective layers. Something of his demeanor reminded her of her son. If she had died the way the Belmonts had, would Adrian...? She pushed the thoughts from her mind. Using a small bucket she filled with fresh water, she rinsed Trevor of the soap. The feeling finally stirred him, and he blinked his eyes open.

"You're all cleaned," Lisa said. "Just a little more and we'll be done here."

She set the small cloth to the side and pulled out the plug holding the water in the tub. As the water drained, Lisa carefully dried Trevor's legs with a clean towel, dabbing the moisture away. Brows furrowed, he looked down, hands flopping in the lowering water.

"It's gone," he said.

Lisa agreed, tone staying amicable as Trevor stared with the purpose of a man solving a puzzle. She had finished drying his legs completely and prepared the burn salve before Trevor reacted, everything on his face flaring wider as his skin took on a redder hue.

"I-I'm naked!" he declared.

Lisa pinched her lips together, but a smile still pulled them apart. For a few moments, she struggled to pull a serious face on but managed when it looked like he might panic. "Yes, Trevor. I told you, I'm treating your burns. That means keeping them clean, too, so I decided to clean your whole body while you're in the bathing tub."

"I shouldn't..." Trevor placed his hands over the sensitive parts between his legs. "You're a lady," he said, uncertain.

"Trevor Belmont. I am a studied doctor, and the medical peculiarities of the male body do not surprise me." Her tone turned more wry than clipped as she continued, saying, "I am also a married woman, and mother to a young man. I am perfectly aware of what a penis looks like."

Trevor sputtered, something like awe and horror crossing his face. "But... but it's my, uh..."

Lisa softened. "Trevor. If this makes you uncomfortable, I can switch with someone else. I simply thought, well, that you would be more comfortable with someone... with me here." With a human, she thought to herself.

She was perfectly aware of Trevor's status as a hunter; Though she had heard from her son that Trevor was less hostile, her husband and son walked thin ice when they spent time with him. Having any of the other residents with him was absolutely out of the question. She simply did not trust them with the young hunter the way she trusted her family.

"Someone else...?" Trevor muttered. Drugged confusion clouded his expression, so Lisa elaborated.

"Yes, but someone you've already met, and are comfortable with. My son is learned in medical sciences as well, and all that's left is to apply the salve a-"

"No!" The startled shout stopped Lisa short. She examined his expression, afraid he was reacting volatile because her son was part vampire--and honestly she'd hoped for better--but the tense to his shoulders and the way he tried to tuck down into a nonexistent cloak dissipated her thought.

"No," he repeated, "Just, not like this."

Giggles tried to break out of her, but she held them back. Poor Trevor was embarrassed enough. "Very well," she said, "Then if you prefer, I will stay and finish my work."

His hesitant nod was enough for her, though he didn't move his hands. She scooped some burn salve and applied it to his legs with gentle touches, spreading evenly.

"By the way, I never did thank you." She coated her fingers again as she worked on his calves.

"Thank me?" His head bobbed a bit. "Oh, that. Why?"

"What do you mean? You saved my life, of course I would thank you."

Trevor went to go wave off her thanks, but immediately remembered himself and placed his hand back in its protective position.

"I suppose, it isn't just that, though," Lisa allowed. "You... you had to have heard the accusations against me before you decided to help. Witchcraft is not a light sentence. Deciding to defend me at risk to yourself, even with your own position, well."

Slowing her hands, she brushed her fingers gently over burned toes. They were still a vicious red, a reminder of what Trevor went through for her. "You have a good heart, Trevor."

"Good hearts get people killed," he responded, with a surprising amount of sobriety.

"Sometimes. Trying to do good might have done so for me," Lisa agreed. "But I would not have done anything different. People may not always appreciate it, but someday, efforts like ours will make the world better."

"Our- no. Not me."

"Yes. Yes you, Trevor Belmont," she said, and looked into clouded blue eyes. "Anyone could have stood up and said no. But they didn't. You did. And I will not forget what you did for me, for my family."

As Lisa wiped her hands off, she felt tenderness in her expression. "I can never repay you, but if you'll allow it, we will care for you."

Trevor shifted. Voice muted, he asked, "'Til I'm healed?"

"For as long as you'd like."

And if she had to wipe moisture from Trevor's eyes before wrapping new bandages, she said nothing about it.

Chapter Text

Geometric star patterns swirled across the ceiling, reminding Trevor more of a cathedral than a private room in a cursed castle. He snorted. As though any amount of finery would make him forget where he was.

Yet he couldn't take his eyes off the ornamentation as he lay in the soft bed, dressed in clean night clothes with wounds tended and bandaged. A small part of his mind still warned him of danger, but he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't feel... safe. Cared for. Maybe even...

He scoffed and jerked his gaze over to the window. Thick curtains parted around the last of the purple-red sunset. He had been in Castlevania for about a week, though with amount of time he had slept, he couldn't be certain. During that time, the members of the Țepeș family had watched over him and conversed when he felt well enough.

Thinking back on some of the more memorable conversations stirred up multiple emotions. Confusion, fear, admiration, understanding, anger, embarrassment...

They made him feel. How long had it been since he had cared, or even tried giving a shit? The jobs he'd taken had been for drinking money and, if he was being brutally honest with himself, to test and see if anyone would come searching for the Belmont still hunting monsters.

These people, the Țepeș family... they made him act human. More human than he'd been in months.

A creak alerted him to the door opening, and Adrian walked in. He was more dressed up than usual, his white shirt fastened under a fine black vest and coat, feet covered in rich leather, but his expression was the same.

Trevor still couldn't figure it out.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, noticing the way golden waves moved as the dhampir tilted his head.

"To dinner."

Heart plummeting, Trevor pulled his guard back up. "Need to look nice for your prey, huh? Going to head into town for-"

"Trevor," Adrian interrupted with a sharp tone, "I am not going into town. I came to pick you up."

No. No, how could he be so stupid? Had he really let his lifetime fighting monsters get trumped by a few kind words and days of healing? What naive sentiment. Getting tricked by bloodsuckers into thinking maybe-

Muscles tensed as the dhampir drew closer, Trevor ready to throw himself from the bed and damn the pain. He stopped. A torn look flashed through golden eyes, but Trevor wouldn't be fooled; The elegant hand which hovered in the air could easily pin him.

Adrian lowered his hand and sat in the nearby chair.

"We are not going to eat you." He sighed, a low, tired thing. "Do you believe that we would spend so much time and energy rescuing you and bringing you back to health only to harm you later?"

"Why not?" Trevor fired back. "I'm the last Belmont alive. Makes a nice trophy for the lord of the night, doesn't it? The feared family of hunters at his mercy. With the healing you can do, you could keep me alive for some time."

Complete surprise widened the dhampir's eyes. He looked honestly shocked. Like he hadn't even considered it, Trevor thought.

Adrian brought one hand up to run through his tresses. "You have regained enough strength that Mother and Father consider you well enough to join us for a meal. Mother expected you might have tired of eating in this room."

He sounded exasperated, and maybe... maybe a little sad. Or disappointed. His eyes were drooping past their usual half-lidded state, and Trevor found he wanted to believe him. Fighting had been part of Belmont life, it always would, but having a moment of peace? He craved it. A deep gust of air left him then, as his subconscious made him relax.

"'S not like dying now or later makes a difference, I guess." Adrian didn't seem satisfied, but Trevor couldn't arrange the proper words in his mind, wouldn't speak them even if he could. Instead, he pulled the covers off and moved his legs to the side of the bed. Adrian stood.

"Very well, then," he said in a cool voice. "But at least put on some proper clothing before we go." He opened the wardrobe and rifled through.

"What, don't think I'm dressed the part?" Trevor looked down over his borrowed night shirt; it didn't even reach his knees.

Adrian didn't react. No sigh from a tilted mouth, no ironically looking heavenward for patience, no backhanded yet ultimately jesting comment. Trevor hadn't thought he would miss the rejoinders, but the silence grated at him.

When his toes touched the floor, he stopped, flinching. Should he stand? The last time had been incredibly painful and, admittedly, a foolish decision fueled by fear and defiance. He watched Adrian turn back with clothes in his arms and decided against it for the time being.

The clothes were set in a neat pile on the bed before Adrian turned away. "I will wait for you to dress. Though you might be able to walk on your own, Mother has requested I accompany you."

Other than a firm set to his shoulders, his back gave nothing away. But that was fine. Trevor didn't need help. It was fine. He shucked the night shirt and replaced it with the new one, the repaired Belmont clan crest shining in the waning orange light. He lay his hand on the symbol over his breast, wondering.

"Do you really want me to wear this?" He bit his lips as he realized he'd said it aloud. Adrian didn't look, but seemed to know what he meant.

"You are a Belmont."

"Funny, I wasn't aware." Even that got no sigh.

"You need only be yourself, here." Trevor blinked. Looked at his tunic, then back at Adrian. Long hair shifted across Adrian's back as he canted his head. "...Though I would ask you not attack any inhabitants. Especially in your condition."

"No promises," Trevor muttered, but with no real conviction.

Openly wearing his crest. Declaring himself a Belmont. The son of Dracula wanted him to- to be proud of his family? The idea sent his mind spinning, so he just reached for his new trousers.

Thanks to the care he'd received, brushing against the bandages on his legs no longer pained him. Slipping one leg through, then the other, was simple. He pulled them up to his knees, and stopped. This was not fine.

How was he going to pull them past his thighs and underclothes? He couldn't stand, or at least he didn't trust himself not to immediately fall over. Contrary to popular belief, he could learn from his mistakes; he was also acutely aware of his poor luck. Should he stand to finish pulling on the trousers, no doubt he'd fall flat on his face, probably bust his nose, and his spilled blood would mean the end of him in a castle full of monsters. He groaned, realizing what he needed.

"Hey." No response. "...Adrian."

"Belmont." Ah fuck. He was Belmont again. "Are you finished?"

"No."

"Do try. We do not have all night."

Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "I... I need your help," he said, words barely coming out in his hesitance. He heard nothing for a few moments, then clothes rustled and he sensed a presence at his side.

"Very well. Hold onto me, and I shall assist you."

Trevor opened his eyes to see Adrian holding an arm out. He didn't hesitate to take it, placing one hand in Adrian's and the other on his forearm to lift himself up. Slight pain sparked when he put weight on his feet, but it quickly died down to a small throb. Incredible, considering the damage he took; He should not have healed so fast. Had it not been for the man who held him up, his mother, and--loathe though he was to admit it--Dracula, Trevor would not be standing.

"Thanks," Trevor muttered.

However, with both arms keeping himself balanced, Trevor ran across a conundrum. He couldn't pull his pants up.

Looking around revealed nothing he could do. His legs supported him without pain, but perhaps due to the energy needed to heal so quick, they shook with exhaustion. Neither arm could move without sending him toppling. But... he had to try, right? Just standing, arms on Adrian's, with his pants around his knees wouldn't get him anywhere.

Trevor felt heat crawling up his shoulders and neck but met Adrian's eyes.

"Well?" the dhampir questioned. And dammit, there was the first hint of amusement in his voice. Trevor should have known it would only come at his expense. "Do you require further assistance?"

"You know I do, you bastard." Trevor blushed further as their bodies pressed together.

"Keep still, then."

Trevor swallowed his words as he felt a hand on his back, then Adrian leaned down. His occupied arm stayed steady, but Trevor still stiffened, swaying, when a hand hooked around the back of his trousers and pulled. Adrian straightened up, pulling around the waist band to settle the pants on Trevor's hips.

"Is it so hard for you to follow simple instructions?" Adrian said from behind, supporting Trevor against him as he tugged at the front of the trousers.

"Maybe when I'm being manhandled by- Hey-! I can tie that myself," Trevor protested, and batted the fingers away from the trouser cords.

A hum resounded through the chest Trevor was braced against, but no more protest came when he moved his own hands to finish dressing. Adrian held him upright, grip firm but pliable when Trevor needed to twist back and grab the next parts of the outfit.

The belt reminded him of what he used to have: a sturdy dark leather which held a wine red cloth in place. The cut was different, and there weren't any pouches, but... How much had his clothes been studied by the dhampir to replicate this?

"Allow me." The same dhampir broke into his thoughts and took the belt to begin coaxing it around Trevor. "I wouldn't wish you to fall." Adrian's breath slid across Trevor's neck with each word. Damn bloodsucker had to be doing it on purpose.

Trevor's breath hitched as cool hands wrapped around him, tugging at the buckle.

"That's enough," Trevor said, voice stretched tight. He brusquely grabbed the belt and clasped it himself. "I'm injured, not an invalid."

"Very well," Adrian said. He sounded perfectly amicable as he kept his arms braced around Trevor's torso, but with a lightness which belied his amusement. "When you finish, we shall make for the dining hall."

Trevor shifted as he straightened his new outfit, then looked down at his bandaged feet. "I don't suppose you have any boots?"

"They would put too much pressure on your feet," Adrian explained. He easily slipped to the side and under an arm to prop Trevor up. "The walking is enough for today."

Trevor grunted.

"There won't be anything to harm your feet in here."

"No spike traps? No bones? I thought you were giving me the full treatment."

"I apologize for our lack of foresight. Perhaps another time, Trevor." A teasing smile flit across Adrian's face, and Trevor almost sighed in relief.

The walk to the dining hall was as normal as promised, though Trevor did catch sight of a couple skeletons in distant hallways. They ran around like mansion staff, clacking beneath simple uniforms.

"What the hell...?"

Adrian moved with him as he took in the castle they walked through, sometimes answering his questions, and other times explaining things Trevor couldn't give voice to. Even with the odd servants, the castle didn't feel forboding the way the hunter expected. With rich tapestries, intricate lights, and a plush carpet down each hall Adrian chose, the atmosphere felt welcoming.

At least until they reached the dining hall.

Despite what Trevor had known in the back of his mind, his spine still straightened as he entered the room and found Dracula there. He and his wife were wrapped around each other, lips engaged in a passionate kiss.

Though Trevor felt the need to look away, he couldn't. Here was Dracula, prince of darkness, nuzzling into the hand of the human woman who cupped his cheek. Adrian cleared his throat.

"Good evening Mother, Father."

Lisa broke away, her face lighting up as she noticed the two others in the room. "You've made it. Good evening my son." She planted a peck on her husband before walking over. "Trevor, how are you feeling? You look well."

"Er..." Trevor scratched at the back of his head as he brought his thoughts together. At least he could be positive he wasn't getting drained for dinner. "Fine, I guess."

"You were able to walk here with no problems?"

"Yeah." Adrian sighed in a put upon manner and explained.

"He did not seem in pain while we walked, though I believe his legs are still recovering. A lack of activity, perhaps?"

Lisa hummed and looked down. "This walking will be good for you then. We would be glad to have you join us for more meals, wouldn't we my love?"

A bright smile was turned towards her husband, who Trevor only just noticed had come up behind her. Though it fit his unholy grace, it was utterly unfair the large man could move with so much nonchalant stealth.

"You are welcome at our table, Belmont. Provided you behave yourself."

Trevor scoffed and stood as tall as he could, then said, "I haven't acted like a proper noble in a year, why would I start now?"

"I would not expect it from you, Belmont. I doubt your clan has acted as such for generations." He ignored the way Trevor bristled. "I simply meant that you should not cause trouble."

"And what would trouble be for you, vampire?" Trevor was really starting to enjoy the way Adrian sighed; his smirk only grew.

"Little boys who don't know how to care for themselves." A small spark of amusement, one Trevor had seen before, lit Dracula's eyes.

"Oh, I'll show you just how well I can- hey!" He protested as Adrian began dragging him off towards the table.

"You two." Lisa sighed. Trevor glanced back to see a fondness on her face as she looped her arm around her husband's. "Come on. You two can fight after we eat."

"My love," Vlad said, sounding almost plaintive, "We are not fighting."

Trevor twisted as far back as he could, even with his guide dragging him onward. "You haven't seen me fight yet."

"I most certainly have, Trevor Belmont," Lisa reprimanded. "You were very skilled, but I will not have us up in arms when we're all finally able to sit down together."

Her smile was sincere, but the steady iron in her gaze made Trevor swallow. "Er, yeah, got it." He elbowed the snickering dhampir next to him.

"Don't think too hard on it," Adrian said in a low voice, guiding Trevor to prop against the table. "Mother has her own force of will."

"Obviously. Considering her husband." Trevor eyed Dracula before turning a shit-eating grin on Adrian. "And her son."

Adrian sniffed, and Trevor would swear he turned his nose up, too. "I don't know what you are referring to. I am a perfect gentleman." As if to prove his point, he pulled out the chair for Trevor, mirroring his father as he tended Lisa.

"I'm not some maid to be courted," Trevor grumbled, sitting down quickly as his legs gave out.

"Oh?" Adrian settled into his own chair, left of Trevor and at Dracula's right hand, looking perfectly assured with one leg crossed over the other. "You are our guest, and injured at that."

"Not that you need a reason to cling to me."

Adrian paused, so brief Trevor almost didn't catch it, before leaning right into his space. Trevor leaned back.

"Have I, Trevor Belmont? Is that what occupies your thoughts? My presence?"

Trevor felt his ears heat. When his mouth wouldn't respond fast enough, he reached out, unthinkingly, and kicked Adrian's shin. A flare of pain engulfed his foot, and he cursed.

A deep chuckling came from the dhampir--fuck him--even as he reached out to hold the offending foot. "Are you alright?" A smile sat on his face, but bright eyes, open with emotion, stared right into Trevor.

"I'm sturdier than you'd think. Don't even feel it anymore." And he wasn't lying.

"If you're quite done attempting to undo all of our efforts healing you?" Vlad said.

His voice effectively broke through the little bubble Trevor hadn't even been aware of entering. Something about Adrian constantly captured his attention. As said man ran a thumb over his foot before smirking and pulling away, Trevor concluded it was because he was an annoying bastard.

Clapping her hands together, Lisa looked around the table. "Well! It's nice to see you two getting along."

"I'm not sure 'getting along' is the way I'd put it," Trevor said.

"Indeed." Trevor whipped his head around to stare at the vampire who'd just agreed with him. Dracula continued with, "It's more like the two of you are falling all over each other."

"Father!" Adrian said, sounding flustered. His mother giggled, and even Dracula looked amused.

"We haven't had much chance to all spend time together," Lisa said, reaching out to grab her husband's hand. The way Dracula's face relaxed as they looked at each other, hands entangled, made him seem softhearted. Loving. Almost human, whispered Trevor's mind, They look like Mother and Father.

He looked at the dark wood of the table beneath him, feeling something hot bubbling up from his gut.

"Trevor?" He didn't look up. His mind whirled, even as Lisa addressed him again. "We're happy to have you, dear. I hope we aren't making you uncomfortable."

He still couldn't look at them directly, so he just shrugged and ran a finger over his facial scar. "Do what you want. I'm a guest here."

"Which is exactly why we want you to be at ease," she insisted.

Trevor's eyes roamed until a hand settled on his shoulder. Adrian had furrowed brows.

"If this not something you want, I can take you back to the bedroom." When Trevor's eyebrows shot up, Adrian seemed to realize the other implications of what he'd said, and pulled back. "Wait, I didn't-"

Muffled giggling came from Lisa before she managed to say, "Really now, Adrian."

Adrian managed to get out a pitiful, "Mother-" Then his father spoke, lips curling up.

"What you do in your time is between the two of you, but it's hardly appropriate conversation for the dinner table." This prompted a few sputtered denials from Adrian, and a few furtive glances at Trevor.

Seeing the supposedly unflappable dhampir get teased by his parents was glorious. It spurred Trevor to casually spread his hands and grin.

"Sorry. I know you're eager and all, but I guess you'll just have to wait. I promise I'm worth it." An amused and skeptical huff came from Dracula.

One elegant hand came to rest over Adrian's eyes. And then the unthinkable happened. Adrian groaned. An honest-to-God, vexed rumbling which sounded so out of place for a noble, and Dracula's son at that, Trevor bit his lip to hold back his amusement. Said dhampir lowered the hand from his face and turned to him.

Adrian made quite the sight: cheeks slightly puffed, a rose pink at the tops, mouth downturned and sullen eyes pleading with him. He really is just like a spoiled teenager, Trevor thought.

He put one hand over his mouth and snorted. When Adrian only widened his eyes in disbelief, Trevor couldn't hold back, the shaking in his chest breaking out into full-bodied laughter.

As mirth flowed through him, it brought with it a tide of other emotions. Like a rock into a river, feelings surrounded and engulfed him, until he was no longer sure if he shook and cried from joy, rage, or grief.

Small arms wrapped around his shoulders, while cool, long fingered hands intertwined with his. His laughter--sobbing?--only hitched when fingers with claw-like nails grasped a shoulder. Through his tears, Trevor discovered the fingers belonged to Dracula. His eyes were unreadable, considering the moisture blurring Trevor's vision, but his voice was steady and calming.

"You are welcome here, Belmont."

Shame ran through him, but along with it was a profound sense of relief. There was somewhere he was allowed to stay, somewhere he was wanted, even. Trevor covered his face with both hands, breathing through his hiccups. The comforting touches didn't leave him, and he felt buoyed by their presence.

His family was gone, murdered. People were blindly devoted to a church gone mad with power. He should have given up on Wallachia, and yet...

Trevor thought maybe there were still people worth fighting for after all, even if they weren't who he'd expected.