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Of course he took the cloak. They defeated Dracula, and just because nobody else was taking trophies, didn’t mean Trevor was above it. Technically, Adrian was getting a whole-ass castle, and Sypha was lukewarm on the concept of possessions in general, so it wasn’t even that big of a deal.
How could he feel anything other than amazing? Trevor took a moment to revel in the sensation of pulling the cloth across his body and letting the weight settle over his shoulders. The fabric pooled around his ankles, but after a couple attempts hacking away with a knife, he got it down to a manageable length.
It was time to replace his old cloak anyway. It had been ratty and half-rotten for years at this point, but until now, Trevor couldn’t bear to let it go. He told himself it was because he was dead broke (true) and self-loathing (also true), but obviously it was more complicated than that. Despite all his attempts to browbeat his conscious into submission, his heart kept getting attached.
The town around the tavern he was trying to black out in had been dealing with a wolf. Maybe it was sick, or cursed, but it had been aggressively going after livestock and evading villagers for weeks. The men who had found it in the woods didn’t come back. It tried to snatch one of the children before she scrambled up a tree. The wolf was growing more brazen every night, as the village grew more fearful. Trevor didn’t care. He couldn’t. It wasn’t his responsibility to save these strangers from feral beasts.
They kicked him out of the tavern not long after sunset. A minor setback, but it gave Trevor more time to look for a barn or shed to sleep in for the night. He was sneaking behind fences around the fringe of the woods when he found the wolf. Or rather, the wolf found him.
A white blur knocked him to the snow, snapping at the space where his head had been a moment ago as he twisted out from under the animal. Trevor pushed it back and drew up into a low crouch, patting down his body as he tried to remember whether he had anything on him that was going to help. The wolf snarled and lunged again, and for a split second, Trevor considered just letting nature take its course. But as the claws made contact with his chest, and he gripped the twisting muscle bearing down on him, the impulse evaporated. He was a survivor, and he wasn’t going down without a fight.
He rolled the wolf’s weight over his shoulder, ducking forward toward a broken patch of fence. In his periphery, he could see the wolf pacing a few feet away, hackles raised and teeth dripping. A long second passed, clouded with heavy breathing from both. The wolf started to turn away as Trevor caught sight of a broken piece of fencepost.
He charged, and the wolf charged to meet him. They wrestled in the snow and mud until the wolf made for Trevor’s throat and was met with the post instead. Trevor pushed back, and the tides turned. Once the creature’s teeth were locked around the wood, Trevor had full control of its head. They rolled a few more times, and when Trevor found himself with enough leverage, he twisted his grip sharply to the side, breaking the wolf’s neck with a low snap. It went limp and Trevor collapsed in the muck beside it. It was quiet again, save for the blood rushing through Trevor’s head.
He stared up at the stars for a bit. Specks of light just barely peeked through the murky clouds. His mind was quieter now than it had been earlier in the night, bordering on blackout. This was a stark contrast to the foggy delirium that ebbed out from his stomach. This was simple. Decent.
At some point, a villager who had heard the ruckus dared to venture outside and investigate. Footsteps drew nearer and Trevor began to sit up, nearly giving the man, who clearly assumed Trevor was dead, a heart attack.
He didn’t even have to pay the tanner. He probably wouldn’t have been able to, but he would have tried to level the debt somehow. She caught him amongst the commotion as the sun rose and dragged the animal off without another word. A week later, he walked out of the village, the sour-smelling pelt draped over his shoulders.
Trevor’s (formerly Dracula’s) cloak was a different beast. It was fine wool, meticulously stitched to grace the vampire’s figure. Even retrofitted to accommodate Trevor’s stature, it retained its aura of opulence, to some degree. Unlike his pelt, this cloak was nearly scentless. Not as though it was particularly clean, but with that weird vampire non-smell, like dust and cobwebs or some shit. Trevor used to find it more off-putting, but the uncanniness didn’t bother him as much anymore. He decided not to linger on why and tried to focus on the conversation Sypha was carrying on without him.
It was childish. Trevor knew that. But he missed it.
For the first couple weeks it was almost nice. Honestly, it was probably for the best that he didn't think about the mound of white fur. It meant they were keeping busy, slaying monsters and helping people, and there wasn’t time to linger on thoughts of wolves and ghosts. But memories crept in, like water soaking through his boots.
Before everything at the castle, there had been several occasions when Trevor went to move his belongings from the dirt beside the wagon and mistook Adrian for the heaped pelt. He nearly lost a hand a few times (though Adrian later claimed he was merely snapping his teeth in warning—he wouldn’t have missed otherwise).The bastard did it on purpose, Trevor was sure of it. Sypha would return to find Trevor berating an unreactive (and obstinately lupine) Adrian and break into laughter. Half the time it wasn't even that cold.
That was how they first found out. It had been raining for days, the temperature dropping steadily as the weather verged on sleet. Even Sypha struggled with the fire that evening, her fingers fumbling and flame slow. Adrian seemed troubled, watching them eat in silence. They only dared keep half-covered coals glowing as the sun sank. While they could take down a small horde of night creatures, it would be a strain, and if anyone got injured (meaning, if Trevor or Sypha got injured) the situation could go from unpleasant to dangerous very quickly.
Sypha was curled into her robes the way birds fluff up in the winter. It seemed effective for a while, but by the time it was dark she had begun shivering. Trevor considered offering to huddle for warmth, but as a stinking brute he doubted the suggestion would go over well. He looked over at Alucard.
"Staying warm over there, vampire?"
Alucard narrowed his eyes. "What's it to you, Belmont?"
Trevor shrugged and fetched the bedrolls from the wagon. It wasn't much, but at least they would be off the ground. He glanced at the patch of bare wood left between their provisions.
"Uh, Sypha, there's probably space in the wagon if you want to sleep there tonight."
Sypha copied Alucard's sour glare from earlier. God save him if they were rubbing off on each other.
"We can't all fit in there, Trevor. Why are you directing this at me?"
He could hear Alucard muffle a low laugh.
“It’s not- you just looked cold, and you are smaller than me, and Alucard is made of stone, so I thought- whatever." Sypha was brilliant, but she was an idiot if she thought Trevor ever saw her as anything other than fearsome. Still, all the power in the world didn't mean anything if you froze to death. "We warm-blooded creatures need to stick together." He handed Sypha her bedroll and sat back down. She was smiling again, and it seemed any harm was forgiven.
There was some idle chatter as they prepared to sleep, mostly about the plan for the next day, how far they could go and when the next village was. Alucard was still cagey, but that was mostly Trevor’s fault. Still, it was better to have a snobby, sulky vampire as a travel companion than one who got too friendly with his potential meals.
"Do you really not have a better cloak?" Trevor turned his head to see Sypha crawling over to sit beside him.
"You have seen literally every stitch of clothing I own, Sypha. This is the warmest thing any of us have."
Sypha huffed, then came to a stop inches away from him. Even though he was freezing, Trevor had to remind himself to relax. This wasn't . . . that. Unless it was. Sypha’s eyes were dark as she inspected him for a moment. Trevor was still trying to decipher her intentions when she leaned up against him, pressing their bodies together. She was warm, soft underneath the loose billows of her clothing, surrounded by the faintest smell of smoldering cedar. Trevor adjusted himself as she pushed closer into his side.
"Um, Sypha?"
"It's cold, Trevor. Quit being such a Puritan."
Trevor couldn’t help but laugh, and he felt Sypha’s tired smile against his shoulder. "I am sorry my cloak smells so awful, though. It's not even that warm."
After a moment, Alucard cleared his throat.
"Our human problems bothering you? Sorry to inconvenience your princely ass with dying and all." Trevor regretted being so short, but in his defense, he was very cold and very sober.
"Fine, I won't help you. I simply thought you still had some semblance of a survival instinct and would prefer to live through the night." With the coals entirely burnt out, it was dark enough that Trevor couldn't see more than a foot past his nose, so the voice of the vampire was the only indication of his presence. Sypha elbowed him hard in the ribs.
"I would love help, Alucard. Feel free to eat Trevor if you want."
A gentle laugh came from the darkness. "Tempting. Just a moment."
Trevor could hear the slight movement of fabric and air from where he was seated.
"I'm not sure what you can do, though, unless you have an extra blanket over there I don't know about," Trevor mumbled. There was no response.
Slowly, a shape came into view and Trevor tensed, reaching for his whip as Sypha dug her fingers into his arm. The form of a massive wolf paused a few feet away, then tilted its head.
Sypha pulled away and conjured a fist-sized fireball, illuminating the animal. Instead of cowering or attacking, it merely turned its head away with a whine. Sypha reduced the flame and watched the wolf lower itself onto its belly, paws outstretched.
"Alucard?"
The wolf barked and Sypha startled, then relaxed. With an apologetic whine, the animal moved closer, into Sypha’s reach. Tentatively, she extended a hand to touch the dense fur along his shoulder. The wolf leaned into the touch and Sypha grinned.
"This is weird."
The wolf looked toward Trevor and growled.
"Try me, vampire. I’d love to see you hold a sword without thumbs."
Alucard chuffed and turned his attention back to the human giving him affection.
"Sypha, Christ, you can't just-" Trevor waved his hand at the situation.
Sypha was shaking her head, still smiling ear to ear. She moved closer to Alucard, so the entire side of her body was in contact with the fine, thick fur. "He's very soft."
Trevor didn't have an articulate response to that, so he grumbled discontentedly instead. He watched Sypha get settled in place, Alucard moving to lay along her side. His bushy tail brushed along the soles of her feet and she squirmed, laughing, as he bumped her shoulder with his head in apology. It was ridiculously cute. Trevor definitely wasn't jealous.
It didn't take long for Trevor to cave. It was fucking freezing, and at least if the vampire decided to tear his throat out in his sleep, it'd be fast.
Trevor huffed as he finally laid back down.
"You smell like wet dog."
Sypha’s voice was muffled and soft from the other side of their companion. "I'm sure you smell even worse to him.” He heard her yawn.
"He can't complain about it right now though, can he?" Trevor smirked. "Maybe we should do this more often. You're much more pleasant when you’re quiet."
Suddenly, he felt hot breath against his neck and froze. A giant muzzle prodded against his ear and cheek, sending Trevor’s heart racing, before it fucking licked him.
Trevor twisted away as Alucard snorted.
"Asshole!" He wiped drool off his neck with his hand, then dried it off on Alucard's fur. A low growl began building in his throat.
"What's going on over there?"
Trevor glared at the giant wolf, who seemed to glare back with its luminous golden eyes. "Nothing."
"Mm." He heard Sypha resettle on the other side of Alucard.
Trevor raised an eyebrow at the wolf, who tilted his head innocently. Trevor opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. He pointed a chastising finger at Alucard, hoping to convey something between “this isn’t over” and “you’re lucky you’re cute.” Frankly, Trevor wasn’t sure which was more true, and decided that was probably a question that could wait until tomorrow, when they were warm, rested, and all capable of speech.
For now, it was time to sleep.
***
They were repairing the wagon. Something had given way with a nasty snap and one wheel was stuck in place, so they were taking the time to unload everything to get a good look. After a quick inventory of their supplies, they flipped the vehicle. Sypha groaned when something soft thumped to the ground.
“You can go find what that was. I’ll start on the wheel.” She grabbed their tools and clambered up onto the belly of the wagon, leaving Trevor to crawl around the dirt looking for what had fallen out.
In the space below the bench was a shock of white fur. For a moment, Trevor thought it must be an animal. The moment passed, then he sat back and pulled his old cloak into his lap.
He had left it behind. Not because he didn’t want it anymore, simply because he was moving on. His champion’s trophy had changed. But Adrian . . .
Trevor gripped the cloak, furrowing his eyebrows. He must have stuffed it under the bench when they weren’t paying attention. It was cleaner than Trevor had ever seen it, scrubbed down within an inch of its life, scentless and snowy white. Trevor felt emotion building in his throat and quickly got to his feet.
He ran his hand over the fur, toying with the texture. His head was a blur of wolves and ghosts and trophies, but the thing in his arms was familiar and warm. Simple. Trevor relaxed, letting a smile onto his face.
“Sypha! Look what I found!”