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The world was crumbling.
And then it wasn’t.
Alucard groaned as he blinked awake, every bone in his body heavy with ache. There were birds outside, which meant Death hadn’t succeeded in destroying the world. Either that or the afterlife had birds.
“Trevor…? Sypha…?” he called out hoarsely, wincing in pain and letting out a slight hiss as he sat up.
“I’m here,” came the Speaker’s voice, grunting as she used a piece of rubble to pull herself to her feet.
“ Trevor, ” she suddenly gasps frantically, “Trevor, where’s Trevor?”
“He’s…” he looked around. He could be anywhere, crushed under rubble or bleeding atop the crumbling floors above them. The dhampir immediately begins the search, picking up stones ten times his size and large beams taller than he is with little effort as he searches through.
Though Sypha lacks his supernatural strength, she searches through the ruins with an equal franticness, calling out at the top of her lungs “Trevor!? Trevor, where are you!? Answer me right now, Belmont!”
For once in his life Alucard actually wants to hear Belmont's sarcastic reply, something like ‘What are you, blind as a bat? I’m over here!’ or another quip as dumb as that, even just a cough or a grunt or anything that let’s him know he’s here, scathed but intact.
“ ALUCARD! ” he suddenly heard Sypha urgently shout. He flickers in a red blur, reappearing behind her and prepared for a badly injured Belmont. What he does not expect is Sypha on her knees, staring down at a familiar whip.
It’s the Morningstar, alone without its master. It’s proof of nothing, circumstantial at best. Trevor could have simply dropped it in the fight or put it down as he too searched out his friends.
But deep down, it’s all the proof Adrian needs to know the truth, and it’s all that Sypha needs too.
Trevor stopped Death, but only with his own.
“No…” she whimpers, voice barely above a whisper as she gathers the chain in her hands, “ No… please God no… ”
“He did it…” he remarks solemnly, “The damn Belmont actually did it… that idiotic, bull-headed, self-sacrificing piece of…”
Words fail him. His body fails him, collapsing to his knees as he’s wracked with choked sobs that feel like his grief is taking the air from his lungs.
Sypha fares no better, holding the whip to her chest as she doubles over and wails a banshee’s cry. The dhampir can only wrap his arms around her, whether in an attempt to comfort her or himself he knows not. Sypha returns the gesture, not knowing either.
All they know is that there’s a hole in the universe where Trevor Belmont used to be.
They try to mourn as normally as they can.
They made a grave underneath his childhood tree, with a Belmont crest proudly carved from marble. They visit him, leave him cups of booze and flowers and tell him how much they miss him… but it doesn’t feel right.
“Maybe it’d work if we had a body to bury,” Sypha suggested, “Maybe that’s what is missing.”
“Probably.” Alucard agrees, watching the purple poppies that had begun to bloom around his grave tremble in the breeze.
The Speaker sighs, “Or maybe… this is just what it’s like now without him.”
“... probably.” he agrees once more.
Despite their grief, there is work that must be done. Bodies had to be buried and battle wounds tended to and homes rebuilt. The people needed action, to remember how to live.
And yet, Sypha finds she needs to be away from it all. Suddenly she understands why it was so easy for Dracula to be cooped up in his castle all the time. The outside world she once traveled without second thought now felt too big and too empty without him.
So she simply sat in one of the many bay windows of the castle, it from afar.
She thinks about his final words constantly, ‘Trefor is a terrible name’ . He had alway lovingly endured the teasing nickname, had always reminded her in a warmly sarcastic way that he hated it. He said it was a stupid sounding name, talked about how he wished his parents had chosen something much more manlier like Simon. Sypha didn’t see how ‘Simon’ was a more manly name.
“I guess I won’t be naming you Treffy then…” she sighs, resting her hand on her stomach. She had wanted to tell him but had been waiting. Waiting for a moment of calm, waiting for them to catch their breath. She had even made up a dream scenario where they’d reunite with her tribe and then, under a moonlit night over a campfire dinner, she’d announce the pregnancy to both him and her tribe, who’d react with glee and happiness. She didn’t know how Trevor would have reacted, if he would have laughed it off as a joke before the realization dawned on him or if he would have just fainted at the news before waking up and crying tears of joy. He was unpredictable like that, but the one thing she’d been sure of was that he’d take the prospect of fatherhood head on.
But now she’d never get to see how he reacted, and her baby would only know their father through stories. Sypha is a Speaker, she knows she’s good at stories and making them come to life. She is no fool, but a foolish part of her wants to believe that if she talks about him enough it’ll summon him back.
She startles as she feels a tear running down her face, sighing and wiping it away, “Damn hormones,” she complains to nobody in particular. She’s been crying much too easily these days, but frankly she isn’t sure if it is in fact the hormones or if it’s her grief.
“Just wait until the second trimester.” comes Alucard’s teasing voice as he pushes open the door, walking inside with a little bundle of cloth.
“Watch it now, or I’ll puke on you.” she quips back with a smile, “How are things going down there?”
“Good,” he says, “I’m working on an education regime for the children, and we’ve got a working garden and goat pen set up already. Greta says its progress for once.”
“I see,” she hums in thought, “Does that mean you’ll be asking her out soon?”
“Hush you,” he laughs as he sits by her side, playfully shoving her arm, “I told you all that in confidence.”
“I’m not squealing,” she giggles, making a sealing motion over her lips, “Merely curious.”
“A dangerous thing,” he playfully warns, before staring at the cloth in his hands, “I… have a gift for you. I need you to promise not to make fun of me.”
She gasps in mock offense, “Alucard! I would never!”
He cocks a brow and gives her a suspicious look.
“... alright, maybe a bit. But only if it’s a really bad gift.” she says as she scoots forward, unwrapping the cloth for him only to find… a doll?
“...What is this?” she asks Alucard, looking at him for an answer as she picks up the little doll, who looks suspiciously like her deceased boyfriend.
“Well, after you and Trevor left I had some time to myself, tried out some new hobbies and all that.” he says, not wanting to burden her with the truth that he had gone half-mad from missing them, “So I learned dollmaking, and that was the first thing I made along with a doll of yourself. I’m sorry, it’s creepy I know. He got a bit shredded in the battle but I fixed him up best I could.”
It is, but Sypha elects not to say that as she traces the painted scar over the doll’s left button eye, “You got every detail,” she says in awe, “Even his little drunk smile.”
“Thanks, I tried.” he chuckles, “I know it’s no replacement for the real man, but I thought… I don’t know, maybe that it would cheer you up?”
For a moment she says nothing. Alucard frowns, worrying there’s been a line crossed.
Then Sypha throws her arms around him, murmuring a soft “ Thank you. ”
The dhampir froze for a moment, before hugging back carefully.
The Speaker broke from the hug, admiring the doll for another moment before walking over to the newly set up crib beside her bed, placing it on the shelf above it so that Trevor could watch over his little child night and day.
“Perfect.” she says as she steps back, leaning against the other as they take in the small nursery they built. It was home to a lovingly carved crib, gifted by the carpenters of their refugee village when they heard the news. It was filled with soft blankets from the far corners of the world that Dracula had gathered for his own child once upon a time, filled with toys from both the vampire and his wife and the Speaker tribe. Books ranging from ones detailing the science of pregnancy to ones full of tender fairy tales sat on the night table, with several page corners already folded and marked for reading again later.
“Not half bad.” Alucard agreed.
It had become clearer over the past few weeks, and not painlessly so, that love and grief were sides of the same coin. Each one required patience and careful navigation, and sometimes there were messes along the way.
But with her friend, it was a little easier to do so. Still hard, but easier.
“My God, this training regimen is absolutely barbaric.” Alucard sighs as he reads through yet another Belmont journal, “They have their kids with training whips at age four. What kind of lunatic gives a four year old a whip?”
“I was learning how to control my magic by age four,” Sypha says without looking up from her gardening, “And you told me your father taught you how to shapeshift when you were two.”
“Well… yes.” he admits flusteredly, “But those were things we were born with. I doubt your child is going to be born with a whip in hand, Sypha.”
“You never know.” she replies cheekily, “My baby can be born whip in one hand and fire in the other.”
“My God, I don’t think the world is ready for that.” he sighs, “Your child is going to cause chaos on an unprecedented scale, and I’m the one supposed to babysit them.”
Sypha laughs a bit at that, her giggle trailing off into a sigh as she looks into the distance at nothing in particular.
“Hey,” he says softly, grabbing and squeezing her hand, “Are you alright?”
She sighed, “I’m trying,” she says, “I really am trying, and that’s all I can do right?”
“Of course,” he nods, “And if there’s a day where trying is overwhelming, just tell me. I’ll do anything you ask, within reason.”
“I know,” she nods back, “But he was your friend too. You shouldn’t have to take on my burdens too.”
“Would sharing them be enough then?”
“It would be more than enough,” she says, the tiniest of smiles gracing her lips, “You’re a good man Alucard, you-” she pauses, looking over in the distance, “Did someone take a horse out?”
“Hm?” he blinks, following her gaze to a horse approaching in the distance with a cloaked rider on its back, “No, not that I know of.”
“A refugee then?” she says as she stands, rushing over to greet the rider, “Hey there! Are you in need of any aide?”
The figure says nothing, just swaying gently as he rides. Alucard steps in front of the Speaker, holding his arms out to stop the horse, “Sir? Madam? Are you okay?”
They say nothing. Sypha tilts her head in confusion, trying to get a better look at the person’s face. However the person falters, falling off the horse and into her arms. She catches them with a loud ‘ oof! ’, easing them to the ground. As she does, the hood falls back and-
She gasps.
Alucard gasps.
Trevor lets out a pained breath before he looks up at her with a warm, loving and living gaze, and smiles a warm, loving and living smile, “Hello, love.” he says, in a voice so faint it’s nearly carried away on the breeze.
And their world is no longer crumbling.