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It was uncanny really, almost surreal. Alucard’s limbs swelled, stretched, reached into his divine form to create a gorgeous picture of becoming. The vampire was perfection in all his forms but to watch the beast emerge from Alucard as he manifested elegant death; this staggered Dracula.
There was something hallowed in seeing his son take this form. It was like witnessing an ascension, an enthronement, or a second coming. There was an ease to it; a sensual grace that entranced and fascinated.
Some might say it was abhorrent, or that there was something unnatural and evil about it. To Dracula, there could be nothing more natural than this evolution, the fulfillment of all potential into a form of power, grace and beauty.
It was in the vampire lord’s nature to want to possess all things exquisite; to touch, to hold, to conquer. There was beauty in the night, and the creatures of the dark. Alucard was of the night, but also of the light. His son was different.
Here was flesh that came from the dazzling bright; came from a time when there was sunshine in his life from human love. True, the shadow from the Prince of Darkness was present upon the body of his son and always would be, but who would have known how perfectly the two halves would partner? Even the darkness inside Alucard was an indicator of love and the power of such an emotion.
Dracula has created things from his darkness that have pleased him, things that have pleasured, seduced, and delighted him. But there is nothing else like this in his life, nothing and no one he has loved as he loves Alucard.
Watching his son was like watching Dracula’s own heart dance with a melody that twirled in time with everything meaningful in his life. Alucard was the presence that stitched all moments of value together and pulled Dracula toward a deep ocean of contentment and joy.
The huge white wolf stretched slowly under the moonlight, and shook his head gently. The faint glow of magic clung to his fur and shimmered with the rippling muscles. It would fade, but for now it was an aura of supremacy hovering over the serenely powerful frame. One ear cocked forward enquiringly towards Dracula, as if to ask what he was looking at, and the vampire lord remembered to breathe.
“There are no words, Alucard, for how gorgeous you look when you transform. How astoundingly perfect you are. You are beauty and power incarnate.” Dracula put out a hand to his son and the White Wolf ducked his head to nudge the offered hand with his wet, cool nose. Dracula scratched the bridge of the snout gently and then up between the eyes, settling at the base of one thick, soft ear.
His fur is like duckling down, Dracula thought, sighing with pleasure and inhaling the frosty citrus scent of his son. In this form there was a faint suggestion of pine too, as though the wolf had rolled on the forest floor.
Alucard huffed gently, nosing toward his father. The canine was gentle when he pressed his nose into the dark hair that smelled faintly of embers and woodsmoke.
Dracula smiled and opened his eyes when he felt the little lick by his ear and cheek. Golden orbs like a harvest moon peered back at him, gentle and pleading. The White Wolf danced to the side, whimpering and nosing toward the dark, waiting forest. The golden eyes looked back at Dracula, inviting and expectant.
Dracula grinned. “Yes, I am coming,” he murmured, his body melting into a swirling, writhing mass of blood tentacles. He felt his form shift, pull, merge, and ache as he found his own wolf shape.
When the crimson mist settled there was a tall, dark wolf where Dracula had stood. It wasn’t as elegant or lean as Alucard’s; rather it was barrel chested and low to the ground. The shaggy black pelt dripped little embers onto the ground that sizzled and smoked, creating a haze around the creature that looked like it was emerging from a fog. His brilliant vermilion eyes glowed, and when he grinned at Alucard a serpent’s tongue forked out to lick his chops.
The White Wolf lifted his head to the full moon and howled; a cry of joy, unity and power. Dracula joined him, the howl of a wolf merging with the roar of a dragon, the wail of a grieving mother and the call of a bird of prey.
It was the King’s acknowledgement that the dark was his. It was the cry of the Heir that this kingdom would never fall. Side by side they raced, as light and shadow found a balance in the endless night.
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Music for this one was, "Adventure," by LIOHN