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“Is there something wrong with me?” Richter asks, sitting on the grass outside with a defeated look. “Why can’t I do magic anymore?”
Juste sighs, clearing away the vampire remains from the latest attack on their little cabin. Maria is off playing with some of their bones or something. Yeah, that sounds about right. Julia did the same thing when she was her age.
God, he misses her.
“I can’t do magic anymore either,” Juste says. Whatever little power he had left vanished the second he found out Julia had died far away from home. He’s been killing vampires since then the old fashioned way (whipping them to shreds). “Is there something wrong with me?”
It was meant to be comforting, but Richter says yes so readily that Juste can feel his ego wither up into nothing.
“Look, kid,” Juste says. “Sometimes this kind of stuff just happens.”
Richter sniffles. “I miss mom.”
“Me too.” Juste looks around. It’s a mess. “Now help me get rid of some corpses.”
And so life continued on in this matter for their little makeshift household.
Richter had recovered physically from his illness just fine, though he still carries an air of fragility about him. He’s meek, especially around Juste but also around Maria. Juste didn’t think that was possible, considering that Maria always brings out the worst side of Juste by just being her normal bratty self.
Juste still hasn’t gotten all the details of Julia’s death out of the boy. As much as he wants to know about the fucker that killed her (because there is no other way she’d die without giving him a heads up otherwise), he’s not cruel enough to push the obviously traumatized boy.
Richter has been having nightmares every night, tossing and turning, as clammy as he had been when he was sick. He doesn’t talk about them, and Juste doesn’t mention them. There’s a gap between grandfather and grandson that he isn’t sure he can cross.
Richter doesn’t like him much, and says few words to him unless he’s really emotional in a bad way. So Juste just gives him space. He still keeps watch over him through the night, not that the boy would ever know.
Maria, on the other hand, is having the time of her life. Tera was apparently the hovering type of parent, so the girl is absolutely thriving under Juste’s chaotic negligence. She’s constantly out frolicking in the fields, eating dirt, building an immune system like all the little kids with no supervision.
But most of the time, she sticks close to Richter.
She seems to think of him as a new big brother, following him around no matter how many times he tells her to leave him alone. Richter, when he’s in a particularly bad mood, sometimes swipes at her head in anger, but Maria is too nimble for him to catch. It doesn’t stop her from following him again ten minutes later, anyway.
Juste never had siblings of his own, and only had one child, so he isn’t sure if it’s something he should interfere with or not.
Maxim was the closest thing he ever had to a sibling, and god knows how many fights they’ve been in. So far, the kids haven’t genuinely tried killing each other, so it’s already a step up from that.
Richter seems overwhelmed by her peppy personality. Juste doesn’t blame him. Maria has more energy than the two of them combined.
But yeah. The magic problem.
Juste accepted his inability to use magic easily. He barely used it after his prime, and he prefers the good old-fashioned kind of ass kicking anyway. Yes, he misses the feeling of fire and ice that was ever present inside him, but he’s an old man now. There’s some stuff you can’t sweat over anymore.
Richter, however, feels its absence violently. What is a sad but small goodbye to Juste is a gaping void to Richter. To have magic stripped away all at once like that is an agonizing experience, one that Juste thankfully avoided with his own slow degradation.
Richter spends most of his free time outside, trying desperately to conjure anything, even the smallest flame. Of course, nothing works. You can’t force magic out when it doesn’t want to exist.
Maria casually summoning her animal familiars every day probably doesn’t help.
“Maria, can you lay off the animals for a bit?” Juste dared to ask her once.
“No,” Maria had replied. There was magic bird poop on his bed that night.
Juste occasionally tries to find Tera, partly to make sure she’s ok and partly to beg her to take Maria back and maybe Richter too while she’s at it, but there’s been no sign of her. He’s honestly worried about her. Maria couldn’t provide a lot of details about the vampire she was after, but if it has anything to do with the reason Tera fled Russia, then she’s up against the real deal.
But Juste can’t go out and do a real search for her, what with the kids around. He has nowhere to put them besides his cabin, which is attacked every week like clockwork. He doesn’t feel great about leaving the two alone together either, with Richter’s increasing jealousy over Maria’s magic.
So, they settle into a tense but functional life together, in which the only one not suffering is Maria.
That is, until the Belmont curse strikes again because fuck them.
Juste doesn’t notice anything wrong until Maria comes up to him meekly at his writing desk. It’s so uncharacteristic of her that Juste’s senses are heightened before the words even leave her mouth.
“Richter isn’t back yet,” she says, on the brink of tears. Juste glances outside and sees that night has already fallen. Oh no.
Juste rushes out of the cabin, taking Maria with him because she’s safer with him than alone. He’s not letting Julia’s son get killed by fucking vampires, not while he’s still alive and kicking.
The recent rain lets Juste track Richter’s footprints into the neighboring woods. Juste keeps a cautious but brisk pace, wary of any vampire’s trying to get the jump on them. Maria shivers in the cold air and sticks herself close to his side. His hands are holding Vampire Killer, but he pats her back when he can.
And then they make it to a clearing, greeted with a sight that would make several of his ancestors roll in their graves.
Richter is sitting in the middle of the clearing, holding a small blue flame in his cupped hands with wonder in his eyes. Standing in front of him, tall and menacing, is Dracula.
Fucking Dracula.
Juste recognizes him on sight. All Belmonts would, after all the descriptive stories about Trevor Belmont’s battle with him were passed down through the generations. The pale angular face, the wavy black hair, the height and breadth that towers over anyone around, it’s all as they said.
Just is so not ready to fight Dracula (what the fuck), but he gets Vampire Killer at the ready. “Get away from him,” he says, feeling way too old for this.
Dracula casually glances up at him, like he isn’t even a threat. “Ah,” he says, voice like velvet. “It’s been centuries since I’ve seen that weapon.”
“And you’re about to see it up close if you don’t step away from the boy right now.”
“It’s ok,” Richter says, looking rapidly between the two of them. “He’s a good vampire. Don’t hurt him.”
What.
“Thank you, Richter.” Dracula smiles with way too much fondness.
What.
Maria squirms out from under Juste’s arm. “You can do magic again Richter! Yay!”
Richter smiles. It’s the first happy expression Juste has ever seen on his face these past few weeks. “Do you want to see? Dracula helped me learn again.”
God.
…
And that’s how Dracula joins them in their little cabin, after a conversation about trust and motives that Juste immediately expunged from his brain for the sake of his own sanity.
If it was crowded before, it’s unlivable now. Dracula spends most of his time with the kids, and sends jabbing remarks Juste’s way about all of his capabilities.
Juste thought that fighting Dracula would be bad, but getting judged by him is actually even worse.
“Don’t you have a castle?” Juste asks, having been faced with the possibility of sharing a bed with one Vlad Dracula. “Can’t you go away?”
“And leave these kids with you? No.” Dracula has Maria on his lap, and she’s playing with his clawed hands in fascination. Richter is making ice sculptures at his side and showing them to him with pride.
Juste’s sad that Richter never shows him.
“Well, you can’t stay here,” Juste says. “This is my house and I don’t want you here.” Isn’t there a thing about vampire’s not being allowed into homes unless invited? Of course it doesn’t help Juste out. “It’s too small for the four of us anyway.”
“Mama’s house is empty,” Maria smiles. “Let’s all live there together. Please, Juste.” She gives him puppy eyes, and well, how can Juste say no to that.
Anything to avoid sleeping with Dracula.