Work Text:
My name is Skye Porter. I discovered I could hop between worlds when I was 16.
At first I was pretty selfish with how I used my powers. I would jump into the books these worlds were in and learn . Magic, fighting, and knowledge that I would bring into the real world where I would make trouble by helping friends cheat on exams or steal from Walmart. All so I could feel strong.
Sometimes I’d be a bit more selfless. When I thought I could, I’d use the knowledge I hoarded to help people I believed to be less fortunate than I was. Do the right thing and all that. But the world has a habit of taking that good and squashing it, making it hard to feel like I was doing enough. Crushed under the heel of a system that one person simply can't fix alone no matter how hard they try.
So.. I found worlds I could fix.
With fanfics, I've always liked fix-it fics and this was sort of like writing one. Only i got to be a part of it! I would find the worlds of my favorite stories and try to make them… better, if and where i could. Help fix toxic plotlines and save minor characters that died off or got *fridged* unnecessarily.
But this time was different.
This time.. I was trying to stop the story entirely.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wallachia was a beautiful country. My magic seemed to blend so easily into its world, the wistful landscapes of the Devil’s Fang mountains and the sprawling fields of wildflowers were like a home that cradled the soul with ease. It made sense to me that the man I sought to save had made his home here.
I pulled my cloak tighter, and dodged through the market of Greshit with ease. Who would pay mind to the long haired scruffy boy who slinked through the alleys? Just another vagabond begging for coin, no doubt. That was what I hoped they would think.
When my target finally came into view, I felt my heart sink.
His raven hair tied back with a loose cotton ribbon, the King of Monsters was talking with a merchant woman selling simple jewelry. It looked like he was buying a pair of pearl earrings- for her, no doubt. My lip began to quiver, but I swallowed down the pain. I would stop his suffering, I would spare them this fate. Noone had to die, not this time.
I watched him buy the earrings, his claws gently cradling the velvet bag before tucking it away in his coat. She would look so pretty in them.
I’d see her wear them. I would make sure she got to.
Hours would pass as I followed him from a distance, watching this old man make merry with strangers. He seemed so happy, traveling and collecting these stories and trinkets as humans would. It was like Matthias was still alive under the surface, the human he had been just a whisper under the dark.
I followed, I watched, I kept pace. My powers helped- the old bastard was fast, that I would grant him. But so was I.
And when he reached the outskirts of town, he stopped- standing among the pine and birch with a terse smirk painted on his features.
“You are good, little one. But not good enough.”
The sigh that passed my lips was a resigned one, and I pulled the hood of my cloak down- emerging from my hiding place behind the gate walls. “How long did you know I was following you?”
“About half an hour after I entered the market. Your heartbeat runs like a frightened rabbit, little boy.”
I scowled. “I’m as grown as you are.”
At this, Dracula let out an amused chuckle. “Forgive me- your face still bares the youth of softer days. I assumed you still a child.”
“You and my mother both,” I joked in reply- my scowl softening into an amused smile.
He was.. Kinder, than I thought he was going to be. I had always assumed that the harsh exterior was always there, save for when with Lisa. Most of the folks who knew this story had. But it seemed that Vlad Tepes was a warm man, a good man. At least.. Before.
I didn’t want him to lose that light.
Dracula caught the sadness in my eyes. His ears twitched curiously, smile falling away. “Why do you follow me, young man?”
I raked the loose curls from my eyes, and looked up at the towering vampire before me. In the stories he always sounded so scary. But here, in the woods outside Greshit, I saw a man who loved his wife and son, who adored his country, who believed that some day he could even love himself.
The curve of his lips, the ruby hues of his eyes. The stubble and messy hair. He was a man like any other, son of Satan or not.
In that moment my conviction steeled in my chest.
“My name is Hermes.” A lie I often told. “And I come to you with a word of warning, Lord Dracula.”
His gaze sharpened on me, gnashing his fangs as if I had committed some great offense. And perhaps I had, using that name when he was in civilian disguise. I would not be too happy if someone spoke my title so boldly, if I had ever been important enough to have one.
“The messenger of Olympus takes the form of a fair-faced boy to warn me of some ill fate? I’m not sure which offense is greater- for the gods to insert themselves into my business, or that you take such childish visage to meet my gaze.”
My brow raised at this. “You believe me?” I had expected some resistance.
“My boy, you reek of Hellenic magic. If not a God yourself, I would at least believe you an Oracle.” Dracula scoffed, his friendly demeanor now replaced with a coarseness of tone.”Give me your little prophecy, Fleet Footed Hermes, and be on your way.”
My eyes half-lidded and indignant, I decided to lean into this little facade I wore. A minor levitation enchantment lifted me to Dracula’s eye level, and I sneered at him with visible discontent.
“I came here to help you, Vessel of Sin- as a favor, a kindness! And you bark at me like I am some limping hound pestering the great Cerberus? You’re lucky I am a man of moral compunction, or I would take your attitude as reason to turn back.” I tensed, leaning forward to press my forehead against his.
“Your wife is in grave danger, Vlad Dracula Tepes.”
All ego drained from his ash-pale face, and what remained was terror beyond words. A thing I had only seen in the stories that brought me here, now flashing before my own eyes- the great fear of being alone that had buried itself in his chest.
And then, all at once, that fear turned to rage- sparks flying from the tips of his ears.
“Speak plainly, Hermes,” the old vampire growled. “I do not take kindly to being toyed with by the Gods.”
I stood up straight, hands folded firmly behind my back. “In a week’s time, the Bishop of Targoviste will see your bride dragged from her clinic in Lupu and burned at the stake . Her patients will try and protest this, but they will be beaten back by the Church’s influence and wealth. The servants of God will see your bride put to death , unless you stop it.”
I had no clue if I could actually stop Lisa’s death this way. If telling him, warning him, would mean that I could keep the war from coming. But I needed to try, to believe that this old bat and his family could have some simple glimpse of joy in a world seemingly crafted to break him.
“There is a prophecy, Vlad Tepes. That a scholar, a hunter, and a soldier will bring down a great evil. Many believe that this evil is you. But I don’t. Not if you can save her.”
As I held his gaze, I could feel the tension ever-building in his chest. Here was what Vlad believed to be a Divine Entity, offering him a helping hand with no thought for himself. The Gods had never been kind to Dracula before- no, they had spent centuries sending the Belmonts into war, to burn his throne and break his home.
“Why?” He whispered, burrows furrowing. Not in anger, but.. Confusion. Perplexed, as if the strands of his mind could only tangle further to make sense of this. I couldn’t help but feel a pain in my chest, looking at this expression.
“Because I’m tired of seeing you suffer.”
I stepped forward, gently nudging him. It felt like trying to push a brick wall over. “Now go, save her, stop the prophecy- have a future. Please. No more people need suffer, least of all your kinfolk. Go! GO !”
I felt like I was begging.
I was begging.
Vlad looked at me as if I were an enigma he had yet to solve, but understanding in his eyes that was clear as day. A nod, his urgency finally taking as Dracula made for his horse.
A silent part of me, some deep and desperate part of me, could only pray that this would work.
That maybe this story could be saved too.