Chapter Text
Sypha is the one to kill the last vampire in Braila.
It isn’t her most elegant spell. She simply lights him on fire. When it is over, she sinks to her knees where she stands, in the middle of the dark alley. This hadn’t been a fight on the scale of defeating Dracula’s generals, but her exhaustion is cumulative. That had been one explosive fight. This has been close to a week of combat night after night, flushing out every last vampire in the town.
Trevor comes to her side. He eases her to her feet, supporting her with one hand on her back, and the other on her arm. His hands are gentle and warm. She leans against him, weary to the bone. Maybe it’s just her exhaustion getting the better of her, but she wishes he would never let go. “Hey,” he says. “Are you all right?”
Sypha closes her eyes. “I’m tired,” she says, and she means it, from the bottom of her heart. Not just from the past several nights in Braila, but from the three months before this, of ceaseless travel and combat and tension. “I need to rest.”
“We’re done here,” Trevor replies, eyeing the piles of ash in the alley. “We’ll get you to bed. It’s going to be okay. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Thanks,” she says.
“Actually,” Trevor adds, as they slowly make their way out of the alley. He’s limping a little, and she resolves to check on the injury later. “You are going to feel better in the morning. You know why?”
Sypha winces, placing a hand to her side. One of the vampires had thrown her hard against a the side of a building, and she’s worried that the rib might be fractured. She’s too worn out to banter with him as they usually do. “Why?”
“Because we are going on a vacation.”
Sypha brightens. “We’re going to see Alucard?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of those hot springs in Craiova, or that beer festival in Iasi we heard about when we were traveling through last month…” Trevor looks down at her and smiles. “But sure, we can go and see Alucard.”
She squeezes his arm. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”
They’re moving slowly, nursing their various injuries, and it takes them more than forty painful minutes to reach their inn, on the outskirts of Braila. They’re both similar degrees of filthy, dusty, and bloody, but they collapse into the narrow bed fully clothed, shoes still on, curled toward each other, and fall asleep within moments.
It takes a week of travel from sunrise to sunset to make their way back to the Belmont Hold and Dracula’s castle. For the first time since setting out on their journey after Dracula’s defeat, they travel at a leisurely pace and don’t go seeking trouble. No demons or monsters to vanquish from towns and cities, just the open road.
It is the break Sypha needed. It is nice to have a brief spell of peace and quiet, a respite from bloodshed and injury. Besides, as naturally as magic comes to her, it does drain her energy and physical reserves. This is the first opportunity she has had to recover fully in a long time.
There is just one reason she misses the thrill of the fight. For months - ever since they met, actually - combat against the monstrous night hordes have been a distraction from her travel companion.
Not that Trevor is so insufferable and obnoxious that she needs to be distracted from him. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Sypha has never been prone to crushes. Ever since she was a teenager, she could acknowledge a handsome man with one look, and a brief, clinical observation in her mind that yes, he was attractive. And then she would move on, her mind already occupied with more pressing matters, like a new spell she was studying or creating, or how to modify an old one she had mastered, or her Speaker duties.
She’d only had one real, significant experience with attraction, before. He was a physician in the town of Szolnok. Soft-spoken, kind, passionate about helping the townspeople, and so very intelligent. She had hung onto every word out of his mouth. But she was sixteen, and he was twice her age. When she found out he was engaged to be married, she had cried for the rest of the night and avoided him until the Speakers moved on to their next town. For two months after leaving Szolnok, she had thrown herself into her studies with zealous passion, redirecting every bit of longing she had felt for him into the study of magic.
For four years, Sypha lived in peace, until Trevor Belmont rescued her from a cyclops under the city of Gresit.
It was all downhill from there. She had developed feelings for him, completely by accident, and they had hit her with astonishing force and suddenness. By the time they had spent their first night in the Belmont library, she was already too far gone.
Monsters, demons, and vampires distract her from Trevor’s presence. They distract her from her frustrating, involuntary, ridiculous intrusive thoughts about how he’s feeling today, his voice, his face, his hands, when he smiles, how incredibly brave and determined he is, how smart he can be when he actually makes an effort, how stupidly happy she is just to talk with him and have his company as they travel. Whether they’re trading insults at one another or at the Church, or speculating about what they will encounter in the next village they happen upon and how they can help the people there, or sharing memories and stories of their pasts, or discussing something deeper.
Without the monsters, demons, and vampires, it is just the two of them. Trevor seems relaxed and unbothered. He sleeps more soundly at night than she has ever seen him sleep before, one arm thrown over his face, snoring lightly. Sypha lies awake beside him for a good portion of each night and wonders at the perversity of it all, at how she can be so happy and so filled with hopeless, melancholy longing at the same time.
They arrive at Dracula’s castle - Alucard’s castle, now - late on the eighth afternoon of their journey. Trevor and Sypha make their way up the steps of the castle, and Sypha raises her hand to knock politely. Trevor just pulls a knife from a pocket of his cloak and bangs on the door with the handle until Alucard pulls it open.
“I see that Sypha still hasn’t taught you manners,” he says dryly, but the effect is somewhat spoiled by the fact that he is smiling like Sypha has never seen him smile before.
She leaps forward and gives Alucard a hug, and even Trevor manages a companionable pat on his shoulder.
The three of them start talking almost at once and they continue for hours, lingering over a dinner of an enormous roasted chicken, sliced strawberries covered in sugared almonds for dessert, and then drinks. One glass of warm mulled wine for Sypha, a couple of tankards of ale for Alucard, and more than a couple of tankards of beer for Trevor.
She has countless fond memories of nights around the fire with her Speaker caravan. Dinners with Trevor, either huddled around a campfire or shared at some disreputable tavern or another, are more of a treasured part of her daily routine than she would ever admit. But this is comfortable, truly, classically comfortable, in a way that those nights haven’t been. Each of them has a velvet armchair to settle in, not a spot on the ground or a narrow, splintering bench. (Alucard sits upright, like a perfect noble gentleman. Sypha curls her knees to her chest and settles against the back of the chair. Trevor sprawls and slouches in a way that can’t be comfortable, although he looks as content as a cat who has gotten into the cream.) A large fire roars in the hearth, warming her cheeks and hands, and there is no need to retreat into a cloak or blanket for shelter.
“I can’t believe it,” Alucard says, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t believe it if Sypha hadn’t corroborated your story.”
“Your distrust wounds me,” Trevor deadpans, taking a long draft of his beer. “I’m a reliable source all on my own. When have you ever known me to falsify or exaggerate a tale?”
Sypha deliberately looks at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “Oh, about fifteen minutes ago. Our prison guards were little more than pimply teenagers. Hardly as menacing as you painted them.”
Alucard laughs, and Trevor halfheartedly tosses a throw pillow at her. “Quiet, you. One of them certainly looked like he had some troll blood in him.”
“Seriously, though,” Alucard says. “I’m surprised that a human acted with such depravity. Dismembering ten townspeople and scattering their limbs about the village. I would have believed it was a werewolf or a demon from the night hordes, as everyone suspected.”
“We thought so at first too. That it would be a simple matter of finding and destroying the creature. It was only after Trevor and I were framed and arrested that we realized that of course a demon or any of the creatures from the night hordes wouldn’t have the ability to do such a thing.” Sypha shrugs. “And then he slipped up. He made a kill outside of the full moon. It was clear we were looking at a human suspect then.”
Trevor does a mock bow. “Another mystery solved by Belmont and Belnades.”
“Belnades and Belmont,” Sypha corrects, and then plunges ahead before Trevor can whine about it. “Tell me everything that you know about werewolves, Alucard. Trevor didn’t remember anything about them being written in the Belmont library. It wasn’t a werewolf this time, but if we ever encounter another situation where we suspect werewolf involvement, we need to know what to do.”
“Trevor doesn’t remember anything about werewolves in the Belmont library due to memory loss from years of gratuitous alcohol abuse,” Alucard replies, straight-faced. “There are three whole volumes on werewolves in the Sara Wing. Bound in werewolf hide, no less. It’s pretty disgusting. At least your ancestors managed to get the wet dog smell out, Belmont.”
“I have had it with the verbal abuse,” Trevor declares, before draining his tankard to the last drop and standing a bit unsteadily. “And the last thing I want to do is talk werewolves before bed. It may give me nightmares. Should we save this for breakfast?”
Sypha is starting to grow tired, after the long day and the heavy meal. It’s been so nice to catch up with Alucard, though, and she isn’t ready to end the night yet. “I’ll stay down here for a while,” she says, looking up at Trevor. “Good night.”
“Night,” he says, turning away and lifting a hand. “Also, fuck you.”
This last is directed to Alucard. Sypha sighs, and Alucard cheerfully gives Trevor’s back the finger. “Don’t get lost,” he calls.
They hear his slow movement out of the sitting room and up the stairs, and then his footsteps fade from earshot. Alucard glances at her. “Does he really get nightmares?” he asks, lowering his voice. “I couldn’t tell whether he was just being Trevor, or being serious.”
“Yes,” Sypha admits, after a moment. “I think we all do. But I think that Trevor’s pre-date ours.”
Alucard’s face settles into the familiar lines of sadness. “Yes,” he says softly. “That makes sense.”
Sypha reaches over and takes his hand. “How have you been?” she asks. “I’ve thought of you every day. Both of us have, really. Neither of us wanted to leave you alone here. I can’t imagine how hard it must be.”
Alucard looks away, but he doesn’t pull back. “It’s been difficult,” he says, after a long while. The light from the fire casts flickering shadows on his face. “I would like to tell you it’s easier every day, but it’s not quite. Some days, some weeks, it is easier every day. Then the next day, I’ll wake up and I’ll see something that triggers a memory of before, and it’ll be four steps back.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sypha whispers, squeezing his hand. She hates feeling so useless, so powerless to help. If there was only a spell she could cast; but this is something even beyond the powers of magic. “Is there anything I can do to help you? If you want to talk, about anything, I will listen.”
Alucard looks back at her, and with effort, he gives her a small smile. “That’s a kind offer,” he says sincerely. But…” he sighs. “I spend enough time with my own thoughts, in my own head. I don’t want to dwell on any of that while I’m in your company…and Trevor’s. I’d rather hear about what’s going on with you.”
He fixes her with a rather perceptive look, then, and Sypha fidgets. “You’ve heard the good stories,” she says. “Although, now that you mention it, I forgot to tell you about this time that Trevor had to pose as a baker in Sebes.”
Alucard raises an eyebrow. “As intriguing as this sounds, that’s not what I was getting at, and you know it.”
Sypha unwittingly channels Trevor and slouches in the armchair guiltily. “I don’t,” she says unconvincingly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Ah, you’re going to make me get embarrassingly specific. What’s going on with you and Belmont?” Alucard asks. “Are you f--”
“No!” Sypha snaps, feeling her face growing hot. “Absolutely not!”
“Okay,” Alucard replies, unfazed. “But you want to be.”
“No!” she protests, and it takes an effort to keep her voice low. The last thing she needs is for Trevor to overhear this conversation. “Not at all! It isn’t like that!”
Alucard rolls his eyes. “Please, Sypha. Don’t insult me by denying it. I’m not blind, or deaf. I see how you two are together. I saw it back when we first found the Belmont library, and you two have been off by yourselves for months now.”
She grabs the pillow that Trevor had tossed at her earlier and squeezes it hard. “Ugh! You’re just as bad as he is!”
Alucard laughs. Sypha groans, burying her face in the pillow and wondering if she could smother herself with it. “Don’t laugh,” she says, muffled by the pillow. “This is embarrassing enough without you rubbing it in.”
“It’s Trevor Belmont you’ve got your eye on. You should be embarrassed.”
Sypha slumps deeper into the pillow. Alucard laughs again, before reaching over and patting her on the shoulder. “I’m just teasing you.”
“I know,” Sypha mumbles, sitting up. She still feels flushed. “There really is nothing going on between us, though. Trevor and I are just friends. As you and I are.”
Alucard looks unconvinced, but he humors her. “You could change that, you know.”
“I think I’ve made my feelings quite clear!” Sypha crosses her arms. “I haven’t been shy or coy about how I feel for him. I haven’t danced around it. I suggested that we travel together, months ago. We walk arm-in-arm, we rest against each other while traveling, we sleep together, literally. And yet--” She bites her lip, fighting a sudden ache in her chest. “Nothing more than that.”
“That’s because Belmont is an idiot. A stone-cold moron. I know you say you haven’t been shy or coy about your feelings, and most normal men would have taken the hint months ago, but again. Belmont is an idiot. You’d probably have to kiss him before he got it.” Alucard rolls his eyes again.”It’s good that that wouldn’t be a problem for a woman as brave as you.”
“I don’t know,” Sypha says quietly, looking into the fire. “I’d be lying to you if I said I hadn’t thought of it. Or been tempted. But - I don’t know.”
Alucard looks at her curiously. “Are you nervous?”
She hears the rest of his sentence, the You’ve fought and defeated the generals of Dracula’s army, and curls into herself defensively. “This - the way I feel for Trevor, the things I feel - it is all very new to me,” she says, making a terse gesture with her hands. “I know that many women my age are mothers. But I have always been more occupied with my studies and with my duties as a Speaker than with boys. Or men.”
Alucard takes it in. “Ah,” he says, finally understanding. He reaches over and takes her hand in his cool one, and Sypha reluctantly meets his gaze. “You have nothing to be nervous about,” he says simply. “You remind me of my mother, you know. You’re smart, fearless, determined, passionate, kind, and gifted. And beautiful. That’s clear to anybody who’s spent any time with you, let alone anyone who knows you as Trevor and I do. And Trevor - he’s an idiot, yes. But he knows you, and to know you is to love you. I wouldn’t worry.”
Sypha just looks at him, stunned. Before he can move back, she throws her arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Alucard,” she whispers.
Alucard pats her on the back. “You can repay me by naming your firstborn after me, no matter how he protests.”
She pulls back, and can’t help but giggle. “We will see.”
Alucard glances at the clock in the corner of the room and winces. “I’ve kept you up way too late,” he says. “I forget that humans need to sleep more than I do. I’m sorry. It’s almost one. Do you want me to walk you back to your room, or do you remember where it is?”
“I remember.” Sypha stands, gathering her blue Speaker cloak from the armchair. She reaches down, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Good night.”
“See you in the morning.”
Sypha makes her way up the grand staircase, shaking out her cloak and wrapping it around her. There’s a chill in the air away from the fire, and her heart aches to think of Alucard wandering this great castle all alone. If she could just find a spell to conceal this place from others’ eyes, and lock the studies and the laboratories and the libraries away from plunderers, then he could travel with her and Trevor. It will be much better for him to have their company all the time, instead of once every few months. Besides, It had been nice to confide in Alucard, to speak her mind openly.
She had loved her Speakers as members of her family, but that being said, there had been no one her age that she had been able to bond with like she had with Trevor and Alucard. It’s a strange thing, to love people but still not quite be able to call them friends, she reflects. Before Trevor and Alucard, the only person she had ever truly confided in, sharing her feelings honestly, was her grandfather.
There’s a light on in the small library in the guest suite, down the hall from her room and Trevor’s. Sypha glances in as she passes, expecting that Alucard must have left it on earlier in the day. She stops dead when she sees Trevor, slouched in an armchair near the lamp, absorbed in a book.
He must have noticed her, because he stops reading and looks over at the entrance. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey yourself,” Sypha replies nonchalantly, masking a moment of inward panic. There is no way that he could have heard her conversation with Alucard, right? They had kept their voices down. “I thought you were tired?”
“I was. Am.” He carefully marks his page with the black satin bookmark. “Bedroom’s weird, though. I couldn’t get comfortable. I checked out yours, too, to see if I’d have better luck there. Same thing.”
Sypha frowns. That seems hard to believe. “I’ve seen you sleep like a baby while sharing a stall with livestock in barns,” she says. “What’s wrong with the rooms?”
“See for yourself,” Trevor says. He stands and yawns, before tucking the book under his arm and proceeding out of the library.
Sypha follows, after extinguishing the lamp. “For the record, I resent that you thought of stealing my room.”
“Turnabout is fair play, and all that.” He looks back at her and smirks. “I don’t complain when you steal the blankets at night.”
“I do no such thing!”
Trevor had left the door to his guest room ajar, and he pushes it open, leading her in. The only illumination comes from the fire in the hearth, but that is enough. He gestures expansively at their surroundings. “Yours is the same.”
Sypha takes it in, wide-eyed. It’s a little surreal. The bed is simply massive, covered with not one or two blankets but three, in varying shades of dark blue and gray, and to call them simply blankets would be a disservice. Blankets as she knows them are rough, plain, homespun. She slips her boots off and pads across the room, her feet sinking into the impossibly thick, plush rug that covers the stone floor. She reaches out and brushes her palm across the top blanket. It is incredibly soft and sleek, but heavy at the same time. Just one of them would be more than enough to warm her, and she can’t help but think back to all the nights outside where she’s shivered under three thin blankets.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she says wonderingly. This is even softer than rabbit’s fur. “I’ve heard of it, though. Is this velvet?”
“Yeah, it is.” Trevor comes to stand beside her. He’s very close, and he leans down and presses his palm into the blanket, next to hers. His hand dwarfs hers. “Sit down. Or lie down.”
Sypha settles onto the bed, feeling rather conscious of his presence, but even that can’t distract her from the next shock. “Oh!” she exclaims, startled. It’s like she’s sinking. “It’s like what I thought a cloud would feel like, when I was little.”
Trevor sits beside her. “That’s a good way to put it.”
Sypha stretches her arms out, still feeling a little bemused by the way the bed seems to contour to her body. It’s so soft, so pliant. “What don’t you like about this?” she asks. “It’s very comfortable. It’s more than comfortable, really. This is the definition of luxury.”
“It’s too comfortable.” He grimaces. “It’s too much.”
She sits up. “Explain?”
Trevor shrugs one shoulder. “I’m not used to this,” he says shortly. “I’m used to the ground, sleeping underneath my cloak. Or on a hard bed in some inn. That’s been my life for the past ten years.” He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “Remember how on edge you were, the first time we slept in an inn? You said you missed looking up to see the moon and the stars. You felt trapped.”
Sypha nods. “I remember.”
He opens his mouth as if to say something, and then falls into a brooding silence. Sypha nudges him. “Hey,” she says. “Is there something else that’s bothering you?”
Trevor sighs, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. “The last time I slept in a room like this was the night before the mob came for my family,” he says, finally, and she notices the pronounced dark circles under his eyes. “My room, when I was a kid - it looked kind of like this. It felt like this. With the blue velvet blankets and everything. I lay down tonight and I tried to sleep and I just…I couldn’t.”
She embraces him without hesitation. “I’m so sorry, Trevor.”
He rests his chin on the top of her head, and places a hand on her back. “That last night, I think I fell asleep excited about some hunting trip my dad was going to take me on the next day,” he says. He sounds so far away. “I had no idea. No fucking idea.”
Sypha pulls back and looks at him, before resting a gentle hand against his cheek. “There’s nothing worse than thinking about the moment before everything changed,” she says. “ And remembering the person who you were before that moment. In that last night when everything was still normal.”
“Isn’t that the fucking truth,” Trevor replies bitterly. To her surprise, he takes her hand, resting it between both of his own. “What was that moment for you? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Sypha swallows over the lump in her throat. “It’s all right,” she says. “I remember the last real conversation I had with my parents, before they sickened with the plague. We argued because they felt I was studying magics that were too advanced for me. They were dead within the week.”
He puts an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. “Fuck God,” he says, with his usual succinctness. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”
Sypha wipes at the corner of her eyes discreetly. “I agree. Though…”
“What is it?”
“You know that I am not religious,” she says, looking up at him. “But one could argue that the God who so cruelly orphaned you and I, and Alucard, is the same one who led the three of us to find one another.”
“You’re such an optimist,” Trevor grumbles. “Such a ray of sunshine. It’s a little obnoxious.”
She can’t help but smile at hearing him sound more like his usual self. She rises, grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed. “Yes, well, now that I think of it, I have a solution for your little bedroom problem.”
Trevor coughs. “Can you not call it that?”
“If the shoe fits…” Sypha tugs at the top blanket until he moves, and pulls it off the bed. It’s incredibly heavy in her arms, and trails against the ground. “Don’t just stand there and stare. Make yourself useful and take the other pillow.”
“I’m not even going to ask.” Trevor does as she says, and follows her as she makes her way out of the room.
She leads him back to the library, and unceremoniously deposits the pillow and blanket on the large rug in front of the bookshelf. She kneels, straightening the arrangement. “Give me the other pillow.”
He hands it to her, and Sypha looks at her handiwork, pleased. “There you go,” she says. “Now you have a hard floor to sleep on. I brought the blanket because there’s no fireplace in here, but I figured that you can use your cloak as your primary blanket so it feels more familiar.”
Trevor looks at her with an unreadable expression, which is a little unusual. Normally he’s clearly either disgruntled, determined, content, hungry, or troubled, with the occasional contemplative or thoughtful look sprinkled in. “Thank you,” he says.
Sypha wills herself to keep from blushing. “I just wanted you to sleep well. You snipe at poor Alucard so much more when you’re tired.”
Trevor snorts. “Poor Alucard, my ass.” He settles down on the floor, stretching out with a sigh and looking much more comfortable. He closes his eyes, and then cracks one open to look at her. “Well, are you coming to sleep or not? You snipe at poor me so much more when you’re tired.”
“Oh, I--” Sypha starts, flustered. They sleep together outside to stay warm, and they share a bed when they stay at inns because they can only ever afford one room and neither of them is going to sleep on the floor. But she has a perfectly serviceable room here. Now that she thinks about it, though, maybe it would feel strange to sleep away from Trevor after months of sleeping beside him. She’s surprised he even asked, and he’s looking at her expectantly.
“I thought you didn’t like how I supposedly steal blankets,” she manages to recover, settling down beside him as casually as she can. Trevor offers her a portion of his cloak, and she pulls the velvet blanket over both of them.
“I don’t. But the way you talk in your sleep kind of helps me fall asleep. Distracts me from the internal monologue of the grim business of saving Wallachia from the forces of evil, and all that.”
“Happy to be of service.”
They rest in companionable silence for a while. Trevor’s presence is as warm, solid, and reassuring at her side as it always is, and Sypha is on the verge of falling asleep when he speaks. “You always are,” he says. “I don’t tell you this enough, Sypha, but you’re a great friend. The best I’ve ever had.”
Maybe not quite the words she dreams of hearing, but they warm her heart nevertheless. She turns her head to the side, resting it against his shoulder. “So are you, Trevor.”
Trevor places his hand on hers, another surprise, and she drifts off to sleep with a small smile on her face.