Ups, total vergessen hier mal wieder was zu posten. xD"

So. Ich schreibe aktuell sehr viel und kann doch die Hälfte davon nicht posten (die hälfte ist positiv ausgedrückt) weil sehr, sehr viel davon auf die eine oder andere Art ab 18 ist. lol Entweder es ist Smut oder es ist Horror.

Aber gestern habe ich diese kleine Geschichte für eine Challenge geschrieben über eins (oder eigentlich zwei) der Belmont Kinder.

Zur Erklärung: Trevor/Sypha/Alucard haben bei mir 3 Kids. Marie (das Kind mit dem Sypha am Ende schwanger ist, geboren 1477), Simon (Kind von Sypha und Adrian, geboren 1483) und Anna (Vater nicht näher bestimmbar, Geboren 1485). Und technisch gesehen dazu noch zwei Adoptivkinder.

Während Marie es am Ende mit der Monsterjagd lässt, sind Simon und Anna dann später als Duo unterwegs. Weil irgendjemand muss Simon davon abhalten sich umbringen zu lassen. lol

“And who might you be?”

The vampire eyed them with lively green eye. “And who might you be?”

Simon did not hesitate a moment. Getting out the Morningstar he positioned himself in the manor's entrance hall. “I am Simon Belmont and I am here to vanq-”

The vampire lady brushed past him, not even showing the least bit of interest in him – or any fear from the weapon. She positioned herself in front of Anna, looking her over. “You!” she purred. “Who might you be?”

Anna swallowed hard, looking over to her brother, who looked not the least bit pleased to be ignored. They had come here because this vampire had killed the former residents of the manor, haunting the next town ever since. For months now, it said. So why was Anna so drawn in by her eyes?

“Hey!” Simon shouted, letting his weapon fly. The Morningstar was already glowing hot, sensing the vampire and her magic. It ought to be over any moment now, it should be over and yet…

The vampire lifted her hand and a silver shield appeared in the air behind her. Glyph magic. Anna had read about this. Now the woman's eyes were stern as she looked at Simon. “Has nobody taught you any manners, boy? You don't barge into a house and attack the inhabitants!”

“Says the right one,” Simon growled, once more twirling the weapon around. “You killed everyone and then…” He let the Morningstar fly again, while using his own dhampiric speed to also draw his sword and attack with it.

But this vampire was a mage. She was not so easily taken aback. With a single glyph she summoned a sword on her own, blocking him, all while Anna herself had to jump to the side to not be hit by the Morningstar. While its magic did not react against dhampirs, she still preferred to not be hit in the head by three pounds of silver alloy.

“A little bit of help, Ann?” Simon's sword was hitting that of the vampire lady, who did not seem to be the least bit phased by his speed. She easily parried his attacks, all while summoning yet another sword, now dual wielding both weapons.

“Right,” Anna managed, drawing her long sword. She took a deep breath, letting her magic flow into the sword lighting it ablaze, before storming towards the vampire.

Yet again the vampire was not phased. She landed a kick in Simon's stomach, throwing him back several meters, before turning around to parry Anna. Her eyes seemed to be transfixed by Anna, as she blocked yet another attack and then another. She moved so easily, so elegantly. Even her long flowing dress did not seem to hinder her the least.

Wielding her sword with only one hand now, Anna used the magic she had perfected. Summoning balls of water she formed them into arrows of ice, that quickly hailed down onto the vampire, who danced backwards, her own long sword cutting through the ice.

Then the Morningstar flew again, this time almost twisting in the air as Simon stepped onto the chain. Only then the vampire lady took to the air, glaring at Anna's brother. “You annoy me!” With that she had suddenly vanished, appearing behind Simon just a split-second later. She had summoned yet another weapon. A whip of her own. Wrapping the leather around Simon's neck, she pulled him backwards, before he even knew what was happening. There was hatred burning in the vampire's eyes. “Don't get in my way,” she whispered, as she drew another glyph into the air, summoning a large hammer onto Simon.

Before he could free himself, the vampire was by Anna's side. “As we were…” She smiled as a hall of mirrors seemed to surround them.

Anna's head was spinning, but when she could think clearly again, she was standing in a sitting room with a nice and warm fire going in the heath. There was a tiny table as well, on which a bottle of wine and two glasses stood.

Anna blinked, not quite sure what had happened. “Simon,” she breathed and turned around. Where had her brother gone? He did not seem to be here. No, he was probably still in that entrance hall and she… What exactly had happened? She was not sure.

Still, her sword was in her hand, as she glared at the vampire lady. “You!”

“Relax, my dear,” the vampire said with a thick accent. “Your Simon should be fine. Just a bit annoyed, I assume.” She smiled and sat down, filling a glass with wine. “But you seem interesting. I can smell your magic.”

Of course she could. Anna could smell the vampire's magic in turn. It smelled of a smithery, but of something else as well. Something fruitier. Not of black magic, though.

Anna knew she should fight the woman and yet she was standing here as if frozen to the ground.

“Relax,” the vampire said. “I am not going to harm you.”

The words of Anna's mother went through her mind. About vampires not all being evil. About how working with vampires might be a better way out than straight up fighting. Maybe Anna should indeed talk to this woman, who had this most intensive green eyes.

She cleared her throat and carefully, very carefully sheathed her sword.

The vampire smiled. “See. We're good, aren't we?”

Anna was still tense. She was not sure what to do with this. It was something she had never had to deal with. Diplomacy. Though she was her mother's daughter, meaning she should be good with this, right?

She found herself swallowing. “My name is Anna Belmont,” she said as she carefully sat down on the sofa opposide the vampire lady. “We've come here because a vampire…”

The woman looked at her with a smile. “Do you think I am a vampire?”

The question took Anna aback. For a moment she was confused until she realized something. She could hear a heartbeat from the woman. A heartbeat! Though there were fangs, too. Meaning: “You are a dhampir?”

“Like you, I assume,” the dhampir said and smiled. “My name is Katharina.” With that she poured some whine into the other glass.

This had taken Anna aback. And be it just for one reason: She had always assumed that all dhampirs had golden eyes. Just like she had and Simon and their father as well. This woman had eyes just like a leaf on a young spring morning.

But if she was a dhampir…

Anna looked at the woman, trying to make sense of it all. They were told that dhampirs did not have to drink blood. Anna most certainly didn't, nor did her father. Simon… Simon was a different story, though.

But going by the things they had learned from the Belmont Hold she knew of stories of dhampirs drinking blood and becoming ravenous with blood lust. Though the Belmond Hold was maybe not the most neutral source for anything vampiric.

Before she could stop herself, she had taken up the glass and drunken a sip of the sweet red wine. “We…” she wanted to start, but the other dhampir interrupted her.

“You say you are a Belmont?”

“Well, yes…” Anna had to force herself to hold the woman's gaze.

It was a complicated affair after all. Her older sister, Marie, was a Belmont for sure. The daughter of Trevor Belmont and Sypha Belnades. Human. Completely. And also completely uninterested in becoming a monster hunter. Then there was Simon Belmont, who did not carry the blood of a Belmont in him. He was the son of their other father, Adrian Tepes and Sypha. Lastly there was her, Anna, who most certainly was the daughter of Sypha but did not know whether the blood of Dracula or the blood of a Belmont flowed in her veins. Her father had been turned a vampire by the time she had been conceived, so either father could have sired a dhampir child. As she bore the golden eyes she so far had always associated with dhampirs and her mother’s wavy red hair… Well, nobody could tell really, could they?

“Does that mean that fool down there is… what?” the dhampir prompted.

“My brother,” Anna replied. “He is my brother.”

Katharina smiled at her. “You don't have a lot in common, have you?”

A shy smile stole itself onto Anna's face. She tucked a strand of her red hair behind her pointy ear. “Not really, no.” Aside from their speed and strength that was. But Simon… She hated to put it that way, but he tended to be a big idiot. Punching first, asking questions later.

“So, what brings you here?” Katharina asked and to Anna's surprise her voice sounded honest.

Anna sighed. “We heard of a story. About a vampire having killed everyone in this house and terrorizing the town ever since.” They had immediately travelled here, thanks to the transmission mirror in the castle. It was easy, really.

“Well, I am not a vampire,” the woman replied and smiled at her.

From the smile alone Anna could tell that this woman was much older than her. There was a certain composure in her expression that persons younger than 40 were lacking. There was also this depth in her eyes Anna had learned to associate with vampires older than 100 years.

Dhampirs were immortal. They knew that much. So, while the woman with her silky black hair and leaf green eyes looked about twenty – just as Anna – she could be any age really.

The woman smiled at her, putting her hand onto Anna's own. “Relax. I don't want to harm you. I rarely ever have met another dhampir and I would not mess up the chance to change this now.”

Anna found herself smiling. “Yeah. Me, too.” She stopped. “Family members excluded, of course.” After all there was Simon and their father… And Simon's own two children… that they knew of.

“Of course,” Katharina replied. Pulling her hand back she took up her glass once more. “And really, don't worry about him, he'll be…”

“If you are so curious about other dhampirs,” Anna suddenly said, “why did you attack Simon and not me?”

This question did not seem to surprise Katharina at all. “He attacked me, if I remember correctly. I just wanted to talk.”

She was right, of course. Simon attacked. Without thinking, without asking, he just saw Katharina, saw her fangs and attacked. A sweet irony, maybe.

Anna took another sip from her wine, actually enjoying the sweet and fruity taste of it. Maybe she could relax. Maybe all of this was just a big misunderstanding. She only would need to convince Simon of it. Oh joy.

“So,” Katharina said. “How did a dhampiric Belmont come to be?”

Anna sighed and shrugged. “I have three parents. My fathers are a dhampir and a vampire respectively.” Then she frowned. “You have to have heard of that!” After all vampires gossiped a surprising amount – and the story of their family had traveled quite far.

Katharina shook her head. “I can't say I have.” But then she smiled once more. “It does not matter. So, you are well versed with magic…”

“My mother is a speaker,” Anna replied. “I learned a lot from her.”

Once more the other dhampir sniffed the air. “But your magic is not only speaker.”

“I learned a bit from my father, too.”

“I see.” Another smile. Another sip of wine.

Slowly but surely Anna got worried about her brother now. The manor was not that big and he should be able to trace her by smell alone. Where was he? Shouldn't he already have barged in, swinging his weapon at the dhampir lady?

“How old are you, Anna?” Katharina now asked.

“20,” Anna replied. “Only just 20.” Still so young and inexperienced, as she well knew. Not that those two years Simon had on her had made a big difference in that regard.

Katharina smiled. “Still so much time to grow.” And maybe she was right with that.

Now knowing what to reply Anna lifted the glass again. Thankfully she would not easily get drunk, as her metabolism counteracted it – at least for a while. She could not drink the entire bottle, maybe, but a single glass should be fine.

Yet. Somehow her mind felt a bit fuzzy. As if she was forgetting something.

“How old are you?” she murmured, her eyes still taken in by those green eyes.

Katharina laughed – her laughter bright as wind chimes. “I honestly don't remember.”

“How can you not remember?”

“After a while you kinda tend to forget. Years bleed into each other and then…” Katharina emptied her glass. “It's lonely living forever.”

That was of course a thing Anna knew about. It was the reason why so many vampires took consorts. It was the reason as well why her mother and one of her fathers were vampires. But she was not worried about it. At least not yet. She would probably spend her entire eternity babysitting Simon either way. So, how would she ever get lonely?

And where was Simon for that matter?

Katharina once more took her hand, her fingers running over Anna's wrist. As if she was reading Anna's thought she asked: “Are you not afraid to get lonely?”

“I…” Anna did not manage to finish the sentence. She had lost her breath. Somehow breathing became hard as she lost herself in those eyes. They reminded her of the forest around their town in spring. When all the trees awoke from their long winter slumber. Actually, she wanted to get lost in those eyes. Wanted to know how it felt… What? What did she want to know?

The smile of the woman was sincere as she leaned forward her lips brushing against Anna's cheek. “So,” she whispered. “You never have drunken any blood?”

Before Anna could answer however another voice managed to get through to her mind. Not too far away someone was panting. Panting and cussing. “Fuck. Anna!” Simon. So he did manage to sense her.

Katharina pulled Anna up and once more there were mirrors around them, their own reflections dancing in them. Dancing. Right. They were dancing together. Even before Anna realized it, the woman was holding her left hand, while now also taking her right. She twirled her around, laughing the same wind chime laughter and somehow Anna could not help but laugh along.

Of course there was this tiny part of her mind that realized this had to be a spell. Katharina was a mage after all. And as a mage having had maybe several hundred years to learn, who knew what kind of spells she had picked up on? Ha, Anna's own bunic had even learned some fairy spells, so who knew…

And yet she twirled around in what seemed to be a small dance hall, the moon light seeping in through high windows.

It did not seem right.

“Have you never drunken blood?” Katharina repeated her question and Anna did not find it in herself to stay silent.

“No,” she breathed. “Never.” Because she had always known it was wrong. As a dhampir she did not need it and no matter how much Simon might insist on how blood could heighten certain experiences, Anna was never tempted. Of course she wasn't. After all she had never been tempted by sex either.

Only this woman. Katharina. She was tempting her, her lips once more brushing against her cheek, then her ear, sending such a pleasant shiver down Anna's spine.

No. No. No. This was not right. Anna was under a spell and she knew it. But at the same time she enjoyed the rapid beat of her own heart, enjoyed the strange falling feeling in her stomach. She yearned to be seduced by this woman, she realized, as the woman pulled her closer.

Anna closed her eyes, as the woman now kissed her neck, her hands running down the laces of Anna's leather corset. A sigh escaped Anna, as Katharina suddenly buried her teeth in her neck. This was not new to her at least. She had been bitten before. But it had never felt so enticing.

Katharina did not even drink much, before twirling her around once more, her hands so soft and warm inside of Anna's. “I promise you,” she whispered, as their lips met, “this is the best you'll ever feel.”

And suddenly Anna tasted her own blood on the woman's lips, igniting an unknown urge in her chest. She wanted this. She wanted to feel this. That other body against hers. A kiss. A touch. A sigh. She wanted to taste her, too. In trance Anna was now kissing Katharina's neck herself. She was not even knowing what she was doing, her body seemed to act all on its own. But she could feel Katharina's own pulse under her skin and the yearning wanted to tear Anna's chest apart.

She knew she shouldn't. She knew this wasn't right. And yet she bit the other dhampir, an excited moan escaping her, as the blood gushed into her mouth.

For once Anna felt alive in a way she had never even dreamed for. She felt good, amazing even. Only that her yearning was becoming unbearable. Oh, she wanted this woman. All thoughts of a spell had left her mind, leaving only raw desire in their vain.

When their lips met again their kiss was hot and hungry – in a way that Anna had not deamed possible before.

It was pure instinct that let Anna's hands wander to the woman bosom, feel the soft roundness of her chest. Yes, this was something she had always wanted to feel. If only…

“Anna!” Simon's call almost did not reach her mind as he burst into the room. The Morningstar was glowing in the air again and something about it just did not make any sense.

Katharina pulled her close, pulled Anna with herself as she evaded the attack. Another glyph was drawn into the air, summoning an array of small knives this time that shot towards Simon. But Anna did not really see it. She felt like melting into the other woman and a part of her cursed her stupid brother for getting in the way.

Katharina seemed to echo this sentiment. “You're getting in the way!” she growled, while Simon was evading those knives, which were glowing in a blue fire.

“Anna!” Simon screamed. “A little bit of help?” One of the knives cut his cheek, making him his. “Bitch!”

Anna wanted to argue with this. Katharina was not their enemy after all. And if Simon saw her as such, maybe he was the enemy in this scenario. Maybe she was supposed to fight him. Her hand grasped blindly for the heft of her sword, when she reminded herself that this was not right as well.

No. This was her brother after all. Her stupid, stupid brother, but her brother none the less. She should not fight him. But she would not fight Katharina either.

As the later let go of her, Anna was stumbling, holding her head. Everything was spinning. The entire world was spinning. She wanted to be held again. Wanted to be held by this beautiful woman, wanted to lose herself in those eyes of spring.

The fight of her brother and the other dhampir seemed so far away. She saw their swords clashing, as Katharina evaded the Morningstar with ease.

The Morningstar. Yes. That was, what did not make any sense. It would not react burning bright on a dhampir. But Anna had heard the woman's heartbeat, had felt it in her mouth. So what… Just what…?

Her legs gave out under her, as once again Katharina managed to land a kick that made Simon fly into the next wall. He grunted as he fought to get up again, when Katharina was controlling those knives with her magic again. They hailed down on Simon, burying themselves into his flesh, as he groaned. He tried to fight himself up, not deadly wounded. “Anna,” he whispered, trying to draw her attention. “Please…”

Yeah. Right. She was his sister after all. She had to look after him. Right. Yeah. Right. She squinted again as her brain tried to puzzle everything out. What was only going on? Why did she almost yearn to kill him, knowing fully well that he was her idiot brother.

Katharina was coming towards him, her sword in hand. She pressed the tip against Simon's throat and Anna could smell his blood dripping down.

She had to save him. Right. She had promised to look after him. She had promised. For real.

She shook her head, trying to break the spell. A spell. It was just a spell. There was nothing between her in this woman she had met but half an hour ago. Katharina had spelled her and probably wanted to kill her, too? Why did that feel so wrong.

“You just should've not gotten in the way,” Katharina muttered, pressing the sword tip into Simon's throat.

It was then that something inside Anna broke. Forming her fingers into the right sign, she pulled her right hand up, summoning a spike of ice underneath Katharina, staking her on it.

The woman screamed as she turned her head. “Anna,” she grunted, a bit of blood trickling down from the corner of her mouth.

This woman was to kill Anna's brother. She could not have that, could she? Yeah, she could not.

She made another sigh, moving her hands, as Katharina broke the ice with ease, moving quicker than even Anna's dhampir eyes could see. Before she knew Katharina was behind her, her voice like satin in Anna's ear. “We'll meet again. I promise. We'll meet again another time.”

With a loud clank one of the tall windows broke and the fresh spring air was carried into the room, as Anna slacked forward. Her hand found the bitemarks on her neck, still bleeding ever so slightly. She looked at her hand, before finally managing to focus, to heal herself.

Her breath was shaky, even though she had not fought.

A few times she squinted, before finally managing to fight herself onto her feet again. She stumbled over to her brother. “Simon?” she whispered, kneeling by his side.

He grunted, opening his eyes. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck!” Taking a deep breath he healed his own injuries, before sitting upright. “Where's that bitch?”

Anna looked over to the open window. “I think… she's gone.” And somehow a part of her wished she could follow.

Zitat von Sunaki

Sag mir nicht dass das etwas an Owl House angelehnt ist?

Ne, tatsächlich kam das aus Order of Ecclesia. Aka das eine kanonische Werk für Castlevania, das ein wenig auf die Magie in dem Universum eingeht.

Man sollte ja meinen, dass der Mangel an Arten von Magie das schreiben einfacher machen sollte. Immerhin habe ich damit freie Auswahl. Aber... Ach, ja. Fühlt sich manchmal schon komisch an, den ganzen Weltenbau selbst machen zu dürfen. xD

Zitat von Sunaki

Oder kam das noch in deiner Continuität?

Kann kir vorstellen dass das für Trevor keine so leichte Entscheidung gewesen sein muss.

Das kommt noch. Effektiv wird Trevor 1484 zum Vampir, Sypha erst zwei Jahre später nachdem Anna geboren wurde.

Und sagen wir es so: Trevors Entscheidung ist sehr, sehr, sehr durch seinen Survivor Guilt motiviert. (Sein Sire ist Dracula. lol)

Zitat von Sunaki

Ich bezweifle zwar dass das so wahr ist, sie scheint aber auch nicht uninteressiert, an ihr zu sein.

Es ist tatsächlich wahr. Während meine Interpretation von Simon Belmont eine sehr eigene ist... Sein Kampfverhalten ist arg an der Nintendo-Interpretation angelehnt: "Erst hauen, dann fragen."

(Die Tatsache, dass Simon durch die gegend schläft ist aber komplett mein Ding xD)

Zitat von Sunaki

Sie war auch vollkommen uninteressiert an ihrem Bruder, also ist irgendwas an ihr besonders besonders?

Hehe, das ist die Frage. (Ja, es wird noch weitere One Shots mit den beiden geben.)

Zitat von Sunaki

Das ist ein ungewöhnliches Detail, so die magischen Waffen entfalten ihr volles Potenzial nur im Kampf mit vollblut Vampiren?

Ein gutes Mystery, warum hat sie Eigenheiten einer Halb Vampirin, aktiviert aber anti Vampir Verhalten in den magischen Waffen?

Genau, die "Ordained Weapons" entfalten ihre ganze Macht nur im Kampf gegen Dämonen, Nachtkreaturen und Vampire. (Heißt nur auch für Vampir!Trevor, dass er seine Waffen nicht mehr wie gehabt nutzen kann).

Okay, kommt, dann machen wir mit der Dracula/Lisa Geschichte weiter. Featuring heute: "OMG, Dracula just does not know how to flirt. Someone help that poor man, PLEASE!"

A Strange Man

Vlad Dracula Tepes was a strange man and Lisa could not say, she was quite able to make heads or tails of his behavior. Even now, she was thinking about it. Even now, that she had better things to do.

“What is it?” the mother asked, when Lisa handed her the powder.

“It's an extract from willow's bark,” Lisa replied. “It should lower the fever and stop the pain.” She looked at the sickly kid. “It should be all better in three or four days.” The child - a twelve-year-old - had the chills. Probably not deadly, but also not a nice experience. But that acid they had extracted should help. At least that was, what the books – and Vlad Dracula Tepes – had told her.

The woman eyed the small flask filled with powder with some suspicion. She then, however, decided she would just take it. “How much should I give him?”

“Three half-spoons a day,” Lisa replied. “Not more.”

The woman nodded. “Thank you, Lisa.” There was a hint of a smile on her weathered face. Then she paused. “Is it true?”

“What is?”

“That you come down here from that strange castle.”

Lisa just barely suppressed a sigh. Yes, the people in the town had started talking. A giant castle appearing out of nowhere did not go unnoticed and it made the already superstitious people think of all sort of things – most being connected to Satan. She smiled. “I don't know, what you're talking about.”

Vlad Dracula Tepes was a strange man. He had moved his castle out of the forsaken valley filled with dead bodies. He had not spoken about his reasoning, he had simply surprised her when one morning, the castle was located in a meadow, only two miles away from the next town. This made certain things easier for her. Other than that strange man, she needed to eat – and most of the supplies that castle had once hold, had grown moldy over the years. Lisa knew, he had not eaten for probably several years. He had told her he did not need human food to sustain himself.

At least he had started to keep her company, while she was taking dinner, at times even eating himself. He had also given her money to buy food from the small town, as her own savings had quickly run dry without any way to fill them up again.

Well, there was a way now. The mother pushed two coins into Lisa's hands, when she left.

Lisa felt strange about this. She had always wanted to practice medicine to help people, to stop them from dying of easily treatable diseases. But she, of course, needed to eat.

Growing up in a small village, she had seen so many people dying preventable death. Her older sister had died in child birth. The little brother, she once had, died only three years old. Her own father had died just five years ago of a cut that had grown infected. It was normal. Most people had seven or eight children and were lucky if three made it through adulthood. Many mothers died giving birth. It should not be this way – that was, what Lisa had always believed.

She had left her village four years ago to learn medicine. And she had found an old woman, who knew her way around herbs. The same old woman however believed, that infections were caused by evil spirits getting into the body and could be drawn out by beheading a chicken. In a town, Lisa had found a man practicing medicine. A man, who had been so unwilling to teach her, that she had to disguise herself as a young man herself, only to be disappointed when he told her some bullshit about bodily juices that not only sounded ludicrous but also provenly did not work. The people he was treating had about the same survival rate as people going completely untreated. It had infuriated her.

She had travelled onwards, but wherever she went it was always the same. Until she had heard those rumors. Rumors of a strange and cursed castle standing on the grounds where a battle had taken place more than half a century ago. The people said, the man living there might be the devil himself, but also that he had once given an old woman an elixir that had cured a long going cough.

Lisa had been intrigued. She had gone looking for the castle. On her way there, she had heard more rumors. Rumors about said man drinking blood. About people keeping him away with crucifixes and garlic. Tales she had not had the mind for.

It had turned out though, that the part about the blood drinking was true. He was a vampire. An undead. Something she admittedly could not quite wrap her head around. How could someone be “undead”?

However: It was true as well, that he did know science. Actual science. He knew, what it was that had killed her father, that carried of her little brother. He also knew, how to treat many, many things. Within just the six short weeks she had stayed with him, she had learned so many things. A lot of infections were caused by tiny creatures called bacteria, that lived of human cells and would make them sick. There were however certain poisons, that would kill of those tiny creatures and would henceforth heal the human. Keeping one's hands clean by rubbing them in distilled alcohol made it harder for those bacteria to spread.

He also had been able to explain her, while certain herbs and other plants had effects on sick (or healthy) humans. And that there were ways to extract those chemicals from the plants, to make them more potent.

He held so much knowledge. His entire castle was lit up by lamps that were powered not by fire but an invisible force called electricity. There was a large – and loud – machine within the castle, that created this force. There was water coming out of the castle walls as well. Clean water. This, he had admitted, was partly thanks to magic, as the castle itself searched for the nearest ground water. He had told her, there were ways to get to that kind of water by other means and pump it up using electricity. Water that far down was cleaner and less likely to make people sick.

It was all very fascinating and gave her ideas how all of this could better the lives of many, many people.

Vlad Dracula Tepes was himself a well of knowledge and to her surprise he had been willing to share all of this rather quickly. But he was also a strange man, who was hard to understand.

Three weeks ago, he had awoken her in the middle of the night. She would've thought it a dream, if it had not been for the small puncture marks on her neck the next morning. He had bitten her – she had allowed him to – but there had been something else. She remembered quite vividly how his lips had brushed against hers. So vividly, that she felt almost crazy, when he had not referenced this ever since.

Maybe it was not that strange, she thought to herself, while she climbed up the hill on which the castle was now located. He was an ancient being and whatever had happened that night, well, who was she to understand it? It bothered her, though. Especially as she could not help but notice those small little things happening ever since. Those moments, when he watched her while he thought she was busy. His reluctance to let go of her, after guiding her hand in an experiment.

She was a woman and she had grown up among men. She knew this behavior, but it was ludicrous to think, that a man like him would that easily fall for her. She had to be but a child in his eyes.

She herself? Well, she was fascinated by this strange man. And yes, she knew she was crazy because of it. He was a predator, he could kill her within just the blink of an eye. And yet… He was intelligent, knowledgeable and also witty. He actually did try to be a good host to her. At times he could even be gallant – even though he tended to ruin it just a moment later.

She could easily tell, that he had lived there on that old battle ground for probably decades to be alone, and had quite clearly forgotten how to act around other people ever since.

And yet she could not help herself to feel her heart buzz a little, when he had this certain smile - the one, where his eyes were smiling, too.

The sun was already setting when Lisa finally reached the castle. Even within the friendly meadow it seemed to be an accursed place. The walls so dark, almost black, the windows so empty. One could even smell the magic inhabiting this place. This was another strange thing she had learned within the last six weeks: Magic had a smell.

Once she opened the giant main gates of the castle, she found herself in the large and empty entrance hall. The electrical lights cast a harsh and cold light into the hall, that lacked for windows. Well, it was a vampire castle after all and even Vlad Dracula Tepes would apparently burn if he stepped out into the sun.

By now Lisa was hungry. She would cook herself dinner and then return to the lab for maybe two more hours. There might be time for another experiment – or another chapter of one of the many books he had collected. Maybe he would be there, too. Maybe he would also keep her company once more, while she was eating dinner.

Making her way up the many stairs, she steered her steps towards the kitchen, just to be greeted by a hearty smell. She found herself frowning. This could not mean, what she thought it was meaning, right?

Turning the corner, however, she found him – Vlad – in the kitchen actually cooking. Admittedly she was mostly surprised that he was even capable of such a feat.

Standing in the kitchen door she watched him, while he turned two pieces of meat within the pan, before returning said pan into the oven. There was also a pot upon the stove with something spicy smelling inside.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

For once it was him, who jumped and it gave her a certain feeling of accomplishment. He was hard to surprise after all. He turned around. A smile appeared on his features. “You have returned.”

“Obviously.” She eyed the kitchen. There was the chopping board on the table, with some leftover pieces of vegetables still on the sides. There were also several of the small containers she had filled with spices from the supply rooms by the stove. “And I am asking again: What are you doing?”

“That should be obvious as well, should it not?”

What a strange man. Whatever could have made him want to cook, as he was so stern about it being unnecessary for him. “I rephrase my question: Why are you cooking?”

His broad shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “I considered it a welcome change of pace.”

Now, finally, she entered the kitchen putting the basket with her purchases on the table. “Are you cooking for me?”

“I am cooking for us,” he replied.

She was still frowning, but then shook her head. “That is, in fact, nice of you.”

He smirked. “You sound surprised.”

“I am,” she admitted.

“Why?”

For a moment she pursed her lips, thinking of how-to best phrase it. “Well, you are nice. You can be nice. Just not in this way.”

“You only know be for six weeks.”

“True.”

“So, how would you know I can't be nice in any other ways?”

She chuckled. “True. I'll give you that much.” She took the carafe filled with water from the table to drink just a bit, before watching him once more.

Vlad Dracula Tepes did not look like a man, that belonged into a kitchen. Even this kitchen – the kitchen of his castle – seemed small for his tall stature. With his broad shoulders he looked, like he belonged on a battle field and not into an environment like this. But, she figured, even a tall man – well, at least a human tall man – would need to eat. It just seemed that Vlad Dracula Tepes, King of vampires, would have servants to do the cooking for him – if he even fancied actual human food.

Lisa was not stupid. She knew that once in the past servants had lived in this castle. She could not tell if those had been human or vampire, but there were many bed chambers, that were probably servants' quarters. And while she knew Vlad for but six weeks, she was quite confident in saying, that he had sent all those servants away.

He had become weary of other people. Humans especially. This made it seem like a miracle, he had not sent her away – or killed her – those six weeks ago.

After having rested for a few minutes, Lisa moved the chopping board and some other utensils no longer needed to the kitchen's large sink. She could as well clean those things off, while he was busy. “I figure we will be eating together then,” she said.

Another smirk, while he watched her. “Yes, I have figured the same as well.”

“That's good.” With some water she rinsed of the board, washing it with a simple rag.

“It is?”

“Yes. Company is good for you,” she replied. “It is good for me as well.”

He turned towards her. “You humans are social creatures after all.”

“And vampires are not?” She truthfully could not tell. After all, he was the first vampire she had ever met.

His quiet told her, that they possibly were – and it was hard for him to admit it. She did, however, not press him on it. She could not know what had prompted him to live in solitude for God knew how long. Maybe something had happened to him. Maybe it had been something bad. She was curious, but she would not ask, she did not want to pry into his life.

So, she instead got deep plates from out of the cabinet to set the table. She did not like simply standing here and be served. That was just not the kind of woman Lisa was.

“You know,” he said, while watching her, “this castle actually does have a banquet hall.”

“It does?”

“Yes. A fine one at that.”

She thought about this for a moment, then shrugged. Of course, she could hear his implication. “I actually like this better. It is more familiar. It is warmer.”

“Warm?”

“Yes.” She paused once more to find the right words. She had explored this castle during those last few weeks and it housed so many giant halls. Halls they felt empty and would still feel this way with the two of them there. Those halls had been built to house tens of people, if not hundreds. This little kitchen, which had probably been built as a servants' kitchen, however was nice – it was homy. Yes. It felt like a home.

He shook his head. “I can never quite understand you, it seems.”

“Well, I could say the same,” she replied. “You are a strange man, don't you know that, Vlad Dracula Tepes?”

He chuckled. “And you are a very strange woman.”

“One does not preclude the other.”

“Fair point.”

It did not take long for him to finish the meal after this. They talked a bit, while he took the last steps. In the end he plated the food. A spicy vegetable sauce, some rice, as well as baked and well-seasoned meat. Deer, she found after tasting it. “You have been hunting?” she asked.

“Yes. Last night, after you already had retired.”

She could only imagine that he was an avid hunter. He was faster than a human and also faster than most animals she had ever seen. Killing came easy to him. He would not even need tools like a bow and arrow for it. “This is nice,” she admitted. “I am honestly surprised you have learned to cook.”

“I have lived a long life, Lisa of Lupu,” he replied. “I have learned many things.”

“Yes. I can see that.” She tasted from the wine he had served with the food as well. It tasted nice – light and sweet, though she would not consider herself knowledgeable about such things. In her little village, wine was a rarity. Most of the time alcohol was served as ale or beer.

The food she had eaten here so far, was tastier than what she had known before. The simple fact that he had a large collection of exotic spices made it so much better tasting. Spices, that were too expensive for a normal farmer to acquire. And yes, she had helped herself quite liberally to those, while she had been cooking. “What will we do this evening?” she asked, after having emptied half her plate. “You have been telling me about this gas, that…”

With a gesture of his hand, he stopped her. “Actually,” he said, “I thought we could just spend time together.”

Again, she found herself frowning. He had this effect on her. “Spend time… socially?”

His smirk showed his fangs quite well. “Yes, something like that.”

Aside from the times they had eaten together, there had not been a lot of time spent in such a way. As he had reminded her: Her life was short, her time precious. She wanted to learn as much as possible as fast as possible. That was not wrong, was it?

And yet, she was intrigued. Because, after all, she had taken at least a little fancy to him. He could be charming, if he only tried.

“What did you think of?” she asked.

“Have you ever danced?”

She laughed at this. “Oh, I have danced. I am just afraid not the types of dances appropriate for a castle like this.” It seemed silly to imagine doing circle dances with him, as they would do in the village from time to time. Not to mention, that this kind of dance needed eight people at least.

“Then I can show you,” he replied. “Dances more appropriate I mean.”

She thought about this, while chewing another piece of meat. “But we don't even have music,” she then said, but that only made him laugh.

“Oh, we do have music. You'll see.”

***

Just as she had thought before: This castle was just too big for two people. There was in fact a ball room, a giant ball room. She felt almost lost within its tall walls. To her surprise it had windows – big windows at that – which normally seemed to be covered by curtains. Now, however, the curtains were drawn, allowing for a good look at the meadow below. This room was pretty high up in the castle after all.

There was no doubt in her mind: He had cleaned this room. Because it did not smell musky, like so many of the rooms within the castle did. He had actually cleaned it, to, well, dance with her?

Then her attention was drawn to a strange contraption. It looked like the end of a horn, but bigger and put onto a wooden box. On the box was, what looked like a turntable for a plate. She touched it, moved it and a raspy sound came from the horn. “What is this? Another magic?”

“No,” he replied. “Science.” There was a lever to the side of the box. A lever he turned, producing another strange sound. When he was done, he gave the plate just a little spin, before it started turning all on its own. Much to Lisa's surprise the room was suddenly filled with music.

“How?” She gave that contraption another look. She could say, it was mechanical and that the horn probably served to amplify the sound. But how was the sound created from that plate alone? This was something she could not quite figure out.

“I will explain it to you another time,” he promised. “If only you'll humor me for now.”

He turned around to him, shaking her head. “Might I mention, that I am horribly underdressed for a dance?” After all, her dress was a simple one – and one that had suffered several scorch marks from the experiments in the last few weeks.

Vlad was different, after all. He always dressed like a nobleman, like a king. He also miraculously managed to never spill anything on his robes. And now he wanted to dance with her. What a strange man. What a strange, strange man.

But, she decided, if it was important to him, she would humor him. There was not much she knew of dances which would usually be danced in a ball room like this. But she did know, those dances would start with a curtsy. Thus, she curtsied, making him smile once again.

He bowed, before stepping towards her. “Just mimic me,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft.

“Fine.” She, too, took a step towards him.

The music was slower than the energetic rhythms she knew from the May festival or harvest. It had a certain dignity to it, that felt somewhat strange to her.

When the vampire put one arm towards her, she mimicked this. When he took a step back, she did as well. He now offered his other arm, so she did as well. While she did not feel quite in rhythm, this did not seem to be so hard. But it felt painfully formal, stiff and not quite like what she considered dancing. But, well, she would humor him, so she continued the dance.

She could not help but wonder, what he was trying to get at. At least from his smile she could see, that this was in fact fun for him. So, she guessed she could go on with it. But what was he trying to get to?

Then a thought hit her, making her frown once more. He was old and he was a noble. Could this be, what flirting looked like for him? But that thought was abstruse. He would not be flirting – most of all he would not be flirting with her, right?

There was however his intrusion into her bed chambers three weeks ago. So, maybe he was.

Of course, he noticed her frown, stopping in his movement. “What is it?”

Should she humor him just for a little bit more? Well, he did seem to enjoy this, so she would. She shook her head. “Nothing, I just had a thought.” She smiled at him. “It's not important.” She lifted her arm once again, raising her eyebrows in a silent suggestion.

He sighed and continued. “What kind of thought did you have?” he asked.

Just hinting at a shrug, she kept looking at him. “That fancy people do make everything rather formal.”

Now it was him who raised an eyebrow – though only one. “What do you mean?”

Following his instructions, she turned around once on her heel. “Well, in my village… When we danced, there was not much form to it. You'd just move to the music in a way that felt right.”

“That does indeed not sound formal.”

She chuckled. “Exactly. The music would be faster as well.” Or just as fast as whoever was making the music would like it. There were, of course, no trained musicians. Those, who played instruments, did it was a hobby, nothing more. The music was not exquisite, but it was fun.

“Do you people dance a lot?” he asked after a moment of consideration.

Their hands not quite touching, they circled each other. “There would be big festivals for spring and harvest. But there also would just be those days in summer, where we would meet in an empty barn and have a dance there.” She smiled thinking of that. Especially youngsters, like she had been back then, liked meetings of that sort. Her first kiss had been on such a smaller festivity.

“I see,” he muttered.

“You really do not get out much,” she said. “You really should see how the people out there are living.”

“You said yourself they were basically savages.”

“They are not savages. They are only forced to live by humbler means than you can apparently even imagine. But they are good people. Most of them are. They are kind. They help each other. They make the best with what they have.” Once again, they circled each other. Slowly, but surely, she was getting the hang of this formal dance. It was not that hard after all. “Many of them would love to learn, they just never get the opportunity.”

His smile formed to almost a grin. “There you go again. Trying to talk me into… what exactly?”

“You teach me,” she replied. “You can teach them, too. We both could.”

“To what end?”

“To better the world,” she said. She took a little risk. When they moved towards one another, she took a slightly bigger step, just to move into his space a bit. “The world could be better, if you helped them.”

It was then, that the music stopped. Apparently, that weird contraption would not play music forever. That, she thought, would've been rather weird after all. He was still standing there, in front of her, not half an arm's length away, looking down at her with a strange expression in those ancient eyes.

“You are a strange woman,” he muttered.

She grinned. “And you are a strange man.”

Now he stepped away from her, moving over to the music player. “What makes me strange?”

Crossing her arms, she watched him. “The fact, that you apparently haven't left this place much in at least ten years. The fact, that you diligently do research, but without any apparent aim. The fact, that you live in a giant castle all alone and even consider it a life.” She was aware he was looking at her from the corner of his eyes. “Or the fact, that you clearly do not know how to flirt at all.”

That one made him flinch, giving her once again the feeling of accomplishment. So, she had not been wrong about this – not wrong about it at all.

“I do not know, what you are talking about,” he said. Even now his voice was firm, but she could hear just a hint of insecurity in it.

What a strange man. And yet, she found this endearing. So, she ignored his reply or her owl allegation, instead stepping towards him. “Does this contraption play any other sort of music?”

“What kind of music are you thinking of?”

“Well, the kind of music a bard might play in simple tavern at night, when all the patrons are long drunk.”

He scoffed, though with amusement. “I do have less formal music, if that is, what you are talking about.” He bowed down to a trunk next to the contraption to get out a different dark plate from it.

For just a moment, she was almost tempted to just try it, to kiss him, as for once she could reach his face. She stopped herself though and did not quite know why. There was no way in hell he would take that risk once again.

After exchanging the dark plate for another, he once more turned the lever a couple of times. This had to put tension on some sort of spring, she figured. That's why the music had stopped before. Because the tension had been fully released. Then he once more gave the plate a tiny spin and once again it started rotating, with music coming out of the horn.

This was more like it, she figured. This music had more energy. A bit of a swing. She could tap her foot to it.

“And what is it, you are planning on doing now, Lisa of Lupu?” he asked.

She took his hand. “I can show you how normal people dance.”

“Normal people?”

“Yes. The peasants that you have apparently never spoken to.” She pulled him further into the room, before starting to move her body to the rhythm. This was not a formal dance or anything of that sort. It did not have prescribed steps. You just did, what felt right in the moment.

“I thought, this was not fancy enough for a castle like this.” His gaze was firmly on their hands touching each other.

“I've changed my mind,” she replied. “You should try it to.”

“Changing my mind?”

She laughed. “Yes, that as well.”

Now he looked up, gazed at her doubtfully.

Admittedly, she did feel a bit stupid, but she continued never the less, lifting his arm to twirl underneath it. There was once again that little twitching in his left brow, as if he was not too sure whether to laugh or not. But finally – finally! – he started to at least bob along with the tact of the music.

“It's not that hard,” she said, now taking his second hand as well.

“It's undignified.”

“Not everything needs to be dignified.”

He was silent.

“Come on. There is nobody here watching us. Just try to relax a bit.”

Again, he scoffed. But somehow, he decided to go along. While still somewhat stiff it was now him, following her movements, a bit later lifting his arm on his own to have her twirl underneath it. While his expression was still doubtful, there was at least another hint of a smile, when she started to laugh.

Then she tripped – on purpose. She fell towards him, just to see how he would react. He caught her. Of course, he did. It made her laugh even harder. He might be ancient, he might be quite a dignified person, but he was also awkward as hell.

When she looked up at him, he seemed confused. “What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head, still chuckling. “It's nothing,” she said. “You just…” Within a split second she came to a decision. “You just got something…” She gestured at her own face. “Let me just…”

Instinctively, he tried to wipe the nothing she was gesturing to away. But then, he did as she asked, bowing down to her. What a strange man. What an awkward man.

She dared to touch his face, stroking over his cheek as if to brush something away. Then she leaned toward to kiss him.

He looked at her in confusion. “What…?”

“You are too dignified, Vlad Dracula Tepes,” she said. “And somebody needed to do it.”

Now he hesitated. It was suddenly all too easy to read what he was thinking. He had to misunderstand her – but he wasn't.

“It's alright,” she said with a smile. “It really is.”

His eyes met hers. He, with all his knowledge, struggled to understand. Then he dared to lift his hand to her cheek, while she leaned against it. It felt strange to her, and yet, she thought she might like this feeling. He was quite different from the men in her village with whom she had danced when she had been still a youngster. Yet, she liked him. In a strange way befitting this strange man.

Finally, he bowed down to her once more. The music stopped, while their lips met again. Then he looked at her, their eyes but two inches apart.

Maybe he was right and she was crazy. But maybe it was just the kind of crazy they both needed.

Her fingers caressed his cheek, before finding their way into his hair to pull him close again. Just one more kiss, she told herself. It was a strange sensation. This kiss was just a bit longer, though by far not as passionate as those she once had shared with some boys behind the village's barn.

When he broke away, he was silent for another second. “And what are you planning on doing now, Lisa of Lupu?” he asked.

She gave a mischievous grin. “Well, we'll see about that.”

Suddenly he laughed. It was a deep and kinda nervous laugh. He shook his head in disbelieve. “You are a strange woman, Lisa of Lupu.”

“And you are a strange man,” she said. “So, it might only be befitting, well, that were are a bit strange together.”

Ich habe eine neue Geschichte mit Anna und Simon. Ist so ein wenig ab 16 (aber der sexuelle Inhalt ist Fade to Black). :P

Zur Erklärung noch mal kurz: Trevor, Sypha, Alucard haben gemeinsam drei Kinder. Marie ist die älteste (sie ist das Kind, mit dem Sypha am Ende der Serie schwanger ist), dann kommt Simon, der sehr deutlich Adrians Kind ist (kanonisch pflanzen sich Dhampire immer als Dhampire fort, also egal ob sie mit Vampiren oder Menschen Kinder haben: Es kommt immer ein Dhampir raus) und dann Anna, bei der nicht klar ist, wer der Vater ist, da zum Zeitpunkt ihrer Zeugung Trevor ein Vampir war, also beide Väter in Frage kommen.

Simon ist absoluter Chaos Bisexual. Anna ist lesbisch.

Ach ja, und bunic ist rumänisch für "Großvater" und referenziert hier Dracula. *hust* (Nein, Trevor kommt nie darauf klar, dass seine Kinder Dracula Großvater nennen.)

Flirting Lessons (with Simon Belmont)

Anna did well remember her bunic's critique of both her fathers’ fighting styles. Her one father was too confident in his abilities and his speed, making too many movements, where one would suffice. Her other father had long struggled to let go of those fighting lessons learned in drunk barfights, blindly attacking, instead of going for the weak points.

It turned out that her brother was very much the son of both. He was too reliant on his speed, but instead of having the sophistication of the one father with it, he attacked like a drunkard – even with Vampire Killer in hand. The whip sprung towards her, but she could easily match her brother in speed. As she was a dhampir like him, she also had no problems touching the whip. She caught it in the air, janked at it to draw her brother in closer. When he was in her reach, she used her speed to breach the last two steps of distance, burying her knee in his stomach making him grunt.

“Hey,” he started to protest, when she kicked out his leg from under him, throwing him to the ground and fixing him there with her knee. She was holding her sword to his throat. “You lost,” she grinned. “Again.”

Their little audience was enthralled. There was cheering and applause and some of the girls were giggling.

“Not fair,” Simon muttered.

“How was it not fair?” she teased.

“You didn't even use your sword.”

She let go of him, allowing him to stand up. “How is that not fair?”

“Because…” He stopped, unable to think of a reason. Instead, he turned to their audience. “Shall I take my revenge?” he asked them and was met with even more cheers. So, he looked to his sister, grinning, showing his fangs. “There you have it. I will beat you this time.”

He didn't.

It was no wonder, really. While she had spent almost every waking moment of her youth trying to perfect her fighting style and magics, he had spent it, getting his dick wet.

And while the bruises sustained in their little show fight did not last for long – as they had both the regenerative abilities inherent to their species – Simon was still pouting, as they sat a bit later leaned against a hay roll, drinking some beer.

Their travels had brought them to the South of France, where they ended up taking care of a band of night creatures, that had attacked several villages. The people were thankful, of course, and as it was right in the time for harvest had invited them to join their harvest festival.

There was music, beer, and freshly grilled meat. And while the sun was setting to the West, the people were laughing and singing. It did remind Anna of home.

She was, of course, aware, that Simon's gaze had been transfixed on a young man – maybe in his early 20s – with corn yellow hair and freckles on his cheeks. She groaned, as she knew exactly how this evening would go.

“Oh, come on, you had your fun,” he muttered, as he emptied his beer mug. “Time for me to have mine.”

She rolled her eyes at this.

“Just so you know, I will beat you one day.”

“You'll beat me, once you focus on your training instead of…” She gestured widely. “You know.”

He chuckled at this. “You mean on fucking?”

Unwittingly she blushed. She never got how her older siblings were so – well – shameless when talking about it. Evading his gaze, she looked over to the dancing people. Many of them were their age. Kind of, at least. Anna was 25 by now, Simon two years older. They had been fully grown by age 12, however. Not that they had aged a day ever since.

Her gaze was caught by a young woman, whose hair was red, much like her own, but more fiery, almost glowing in the light of the setting sun.

“You know,” her brother said, as he noticed it. “Maybe you should finally get your game on as well.”

She blushed even more and quickly focused her gaze on the big fire in the middle of the village square. “Yeah, no.”

“Oh, come on,” he muttered. “Don't give me that holier-than-thou attitude. I know you want to.”

“I don't.”

His gaze was deadpan. “You do. I know you're fingering yourself at night.”

Of course, he did. She could never rely on him actually being asleep, when it seemed that way, could she? She looked at her own mug of beer that was still half filled. “That does not concern you.”

He laughed, putting one arm around her. “Oh, but it does. I do care about my baby-sister after all. What you need is a nice and good fuck.”

Even her ears were burning now. Why did he have to be so direct about it all.

Sex. Sex. It was true, of course, that she had never, well, tried it out. Her siblings had, of course. Last she head, Marie was pregnant again and Simon had by now fathered at least three kids, that they knew of. (She had no doubt, there were several more in the villages and towns they had visited on their travels.) Because of his inabilities to keep his dick in his trousers for too long. But she, Anna, was different. She had always focused on her training. On learning as well. She knew how to fight, how to do magic, how to build things, how to use electricity. All their parents had to teach she had learned. And also…

Simon gazes over to the dancing people. “So, who is it going to be?”

“What?”

“Who do you wanna fuck, Anna?”

“Just shut about this,” she muttered.

“Nah, I won't, Ms. Mightier-than-thou. You need a good fuck and I am going to get you fucked.”

“You are annoying.”

“I am wiser than you.”

She scoffed. “Sure.”

“Well, there is a reason why I get laid and you don't.”

“The reason is, that you are willing to fuck everyone and everything that stand still for long enough.”

“No, the reason is that I can appreciate the value of a good fuck!” He chuckled. “So let me teach you for once.” He pressed her head up, so that she was forced to look over to the dancing people. “So, who will it be, Anna?” His own golden eyes were watching the people. “Maybe the guy with the long black hair? He is a fancy one. Merchant son, I heard.”

She could make the man out, of course. Had to be in his mid-20s, so he was probably already married. He was right now dancing with a blond woman about his age.

“Or maybe the young lad over there? He looks about as nerdy as you.”

The guy he was talking about was leaning against a hay roll over where the meat was grilled. He seemed shy, not making eye contact with anyone.

Simon was chuckling again. “Yeah, I know you're into chicks, aren't you?”

Once again she was blushing. “I don't know…”

“Oh, please, you are so obvious.” He rolled his eyes again and then looked over at the pretty redhead. “That one, isn't it? The fiery dancer.”

Anna swallowed. It was simply a fact that she did not know how to go about those things. She had only ever once been kissed. By Katharina. An encounter that would not go out of her mind even now.

“Yeah, that one it is.” Simon jumped up onto his feet, before taking her hand to pull her up as well. “Don't worry, baby-sis, I am gonna help you.”

“I didn't say…”

He shut her up by shushing her. “For once you'll learn from me.”

“But I–“ she tried to protest weekly, as he took her by the shoulders.

“You'll thank me later.”

Anna rather doubted it. Because, really, what good was there to come out of it? She probably would just embarrass herself. Or she would be hunted out of town with pitchforks. (Something that had happened surprisingly rarely to Simon, all things considered.)

Simon lowered his voice until it was barely audible over the sounds of the festivities. “I'll be that little voice in your ear.”

It would work, of course. Their hearing was so much more sensitive than that of a human. She could easily hear him, even if she was over there. Just that she did not want to go over there.

Simon had made his mind up though. He gave her a tiny shove into the direction. “Loosen up for once, Anna. You can have some fun as well.”

“I think I hate you,” she muttered. And yet her feet were moving along, as her cheeks were still burning.

This was stupid. Simon was stupid. All of this sucked!

She just was not good at flirting. Why would she? She was a monster hunter, after all – not a monster fucker. (Other than Simon, who did not consider those things to be mutual exclusive concepts.) And sure, the woman over there did not seem to a monster, but…

“Just dance. You can dance, right?” Simon's voice sounded out of the music and cheers.

Of course, she could dance. When they still lived in their little town of Belmont, she had always enjoyed the festivals, the dances. She actually loved dancing as dancing and fighting were not that different after all. Just that in dancing you did not try to kill anyone.

And while her heart was beating in her mouth, she managed to somehow convince herself to try. She did not want to get laid, she told herself. She just wanted to have some fun.

Thus, she joined the dance. The people had made a big fire, burning of some leftover wood and bushes and some hay as well. The fire smelled wonderful, as did the food that was served. She could smell it all, of course. The food, the beer, the fire, the sweat of the people and the dust of the fields. She tried to not give that woman too much attention, instead focusing on dancing alone, swinging her body in the rhythm as the fire burnt so nice and warm – even to her dhampir skin.

Simon, though, had to bring her attention back to the task, he had decided upon. “Give her some attention. Make eye contact.”

Instantly Anna's cheeks were burning once again, and yet, as if guided by invisible hands, her eyes searched for the fiery redhead, surprised to find the woman actually looking at her. She was laughing and without loosing her rhythm came over to Anna, taking her hand, to join her in the dance.

“See,” Simon commented dryly, “that was not that hard.”

Anna's heart was beating almost painfully, as she looked at the woman. Her eyes were of a greyish green and her freckles covered almost her entire face. She was laughing, as he took Anna's second hand, easily twirling around the fire by her side.

If Simon had not made this stupid connection, Anna would not have thought anything about it, but now she could not think about anything but kissing that woman whose name she did not even know. She tried to ignore that feeling, tried to just focus on the dance. After all, dancing was fun. She could have fun. And thus, she continued dancing, dancing to the sound of the drums and the song the people sang.

It was only after a while that the other woman stopped, laughing. She was out of breath, it seemed, and looked at Anna through such sparkling eyes. “You dance well,” she said, making Anna blush once more.

“Thank you.”

“You want to grab something to drink?”

“Say yes,” Simon urged, though he would not have needed to, as Anna could feel her own throat burning with thirst.

“Sure.” She managed an awkward smile.

The woman did not let go of her hand, pulling her over to where the barrel with beer was located. A local man was sitting next to it, filling up the mugs with the tangy liquid. “Isabeau,” he said. “Isn't that our monster hunter you have there?”

The woman giggled, looking at Anna. “I think it is.”

Isabeau was her name. Huh.

“Girl,” the man said, looking at Anna now, “is that weirdo over there… what?”

“My brother,” Anna replied. “That is my useless brother.”

“I heard that,” Simon muttered.

“I know,” she whispered, earning her a long gaze.

“What?”

She quickly shook her head. “Nothing.”

They got their mugs of beer – Anna's old mug standing safely (and probably empty) by Simon's side, as he still leaned again the hay roll.

“I've seen you fight,” Isabeau said, as she dragged Anna over to the other side of the square. “So, like… How does a woman get into monster hunting?”

Anna did not look directly at her, rather looking at the fire. “It is a family business,” she said. “So to speak.”

“Even for women?”

“Yeah. Where we are from, women and men both fight. My mother is actually a pretty strong mage. I learned so much from her.”

Isabeau giggled at this. “That's pretty amazing. It was so cool to see you beat that guy's ass.”

“Oh, he gets his ass handed to him on a frequent basis.”

A grunt from Simon on the other side of the square. “Don't make me regret this.”

“Is that so?” Isabeau asked.

“Yeah. He is a bit stupid. Doesn't think, before he attacks. Get himself in trouble all the time.” She shot her brother a long gaze, as he was scoffing again.

“He sure seems a handful.”

Anna groaned. “You have no idea.”

Now Isabeau was looking over to Simon as well, though she obviously could not hear him over all the noise from the festivities. “You look barely alike. Aside from being gorgeous as fuck.”

Another blush found its way onto Anna's face. “You–“

Simon's voice stopped her. “Don't say that. You're gorgeous and you know it, God darn it.”

Well, of course she kinda knew. It was, apparently, a dhampir thing. Dhampirs were beautiful to human eyes. Maybe the reason humans so often depicted vampires, who after turning just kept their human appearance, as these amazing, otherworldly seducers. Because, yes, dhampirs were pretty by most human definitions.

Anna just hated to admit to it. Because she did not feel pretty. She felt strong, but not pretty. Awkwardly she brushed a strand of her own strawberry red hair behind her own pointy ear. “I guess.”

“What's your name, by the way?” Isabeau asked. “I am afraid I didn't quite catch it.”

“Anna. Anna Belmont.”

The woman smiled. “My name is Isabeau, but most people just call me Isa.” She took a big gulp from her mug of beer.

“Ask her about what she is doing,” Simon prompted. “People love talking about themselves.”

Him included, Anna thought and was not quite sure whether this was the best advice. “So, uhm… You are not a monster hunter.”

Isa laughed at this. Her laugh bright like a wind whistling through the forest in a late summer night. “No. I am just you average peasant girl, I suppose. The third child of my parents, still living at home, just doing your typical busywork, I assume.”

“I am the third child of my parents as well,” Anna said, before she could stop herself.

“Ah, you see. We do have something in common after all.”

Anna took a deep sip from her own beer, just to not have to answer at all.

“Ask her, if she would want to be a monster hunter,” Simon said.

Anna frowned as she doubted that was a good way of conversation.

“Just do it,” Simon groaned.

At this Anna cleared her throat. “Would you like to be a monster hunter?”

An awkward giggle was Isa's first reply. “Well, I doubt I would make for a good hunter of anything. I have always started crying, when we butchered anything.” She was chuckling again. “But I would just… love to travel the world. See something more than this little village and maybe the town over twice a year.” She looked at Anna. “Have you travelled a lot?”

“Time to impress her,” Simon commented, making Anna just nervously brush through her hair again.

“I guess,” she muttered. “We have travelled all over Europe fighting monsters. And through parts of Africa and Asia.”

Isa was confused. “Africa?”

“That is the continent to the South of Europe. Asia is to the East. The creatures there are different from what we know, here. The magic, too.”

“Do you know magic?” Isa asked with wide eyes.

“Yeah. Some.” Which was false modesty, of course. She was a great mage and she knew it.

Isa laughed. “Would you show me?”

“What?”

“Oh boy, she is totally into you,” Simon commented.

Was she? Anna stared at the other woman, who looked at her with those sparkling green eyes. There was a big smile on her face, some expectation in her expression.

Once again Anna found herself swallowing.

“Say yes!” Simon urged.

But where would that lead to? Anna fought down the urge to look over to her brother, before taking up her mug and emptying it in a few deep gulps. Not that the alcohol helped anything. “Sure,” she said.

Isa took her by the hand once again, leading her through half of the village, over to the exact same barn, Anna and Simon were staying at. Behind it, there was a big and now empty field, lit only by the almost full moon of this early autumn night.

Anna was all-too aware that her stupid brother was sitting on one of the houses, watching them. Like her, his eyes were more adapted to the dark of the night, easily seeing everything.

Isa was laughing, as she let go of Anna's hand. “Show me,” she said. “Show me some magic.”

Really, Anna felt stupid. Yeah, sure, she knew that magic was still not wide spread after the church had done their utmost to suppress the practice of magic for several hundred years. But standing here to show it, she kinda felt like a dancing bear.

“Just show her,” Simon murmured.

And Anna swallowed. “Well, then. Step back. It's dangerous, you know?”

Another giggle, as the at least lightly drunk Isa leaned against a wagon standing by the side of the field.

Magic had always come easy to Anna. She had learned it, when she had only been six years old. While Simon had always struggled with it – for his lack of focus – and Marie had never been terribly interested in learning more than the basics, Anna had tried to learn as much about magic as possible. Her specialty, of course, were the elemental spells, her mother had taught her. Thus, she took a deep breath, and just did, as she would always do in training. With her focus, she summoned the water from the air, collecting it into ever growling droplets. Then, when those drops had grown to the size of a fist, she froze them into arrows of ice, shooting them towards the sky, where they reflected the light of the stars.

Then she summoned fire, careful not to set anything ablaze. Instead she just let balls of fire burn in the air, commanding them around herself like giant fireflies.

This earned her some applause from Isa, who was still giggling.

Emboldened by this, Anna did something else. Summoning both a lance of ice and a sword of fire, she showed off some fighting moves, attacking an imagined enemy, quite aware of Simon laughing about this.

“Do something fancy,” he commented. “Like, make a rose of ice or something.”

That sounded awfully silly. But then again, he was the one who could not go three days without finding at least one willing participant in his games. She sighed. While extinguishing the flaming sword, she let parts of the ice lance melt, while willing the rest of it to take the new form.

Magic was like breathing to her. Easy. So forming the water into the form of a flower took but a little bit of focus. With an awkward smile, she turned towards Isa, offering her the rose, not really knowing what to say.

Flirting came easy to Simon. He always found the right words to impress people, always knew when to tell stories of especially daring adventures and when to let other people talk. She was not that. Flirting aside, she had never been very good at making sense of other people. Out of her siblings, she was the least sociable and she knew it.

“This is so pretty,” Isa muttered, as she took the icy rose. “For me?”

“For you,” Anna said, glad that the dark night would now hide her blush.

As if it was a real rose, Isa took it and sniffed it, before giggling once more. “Too bad it doesn't smell.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Anna looked at her, not knowing what to do next.

“Just kiss her,” her brother groaned, but that really sounded awfully bolt.

Isa did not think so, however, as she closed her eyes, tiptoed just a little and pressed her lips against Anna's. She smelled of sweat and the open fire, her lips tasting of beer.

Having been kissed like this only once in her life, Anna did not really know what to do, prompting Simon to once more offer advice: “Open your lips. But keep some tension on them. Nothing is worse than a wimpy kiss.”

Great encouragement. And yet she tried to follow what he was saying, feeling stupid because of it. She did not need kissing advice from her stupid brother, God darn it!

And yet, Isa seemed to like when Anna followed the advice, her tongue darting into Anna's mouth, exploring her more, as she pulled her closer.

Anna's mind paused. So, this was actually happening? What the heck as she supposed to do now?

Simon knew an answer to it, of course, even though it really was getting annoying. “Run your fingers through her hair.”

Was he actually watching them the entire time? That… sounded bad. She did not want him to watch if this was going any further. But she could not exactly tell him that, could she?

Her fingers were shaking, as she first caressed Isa's cheek, then running them through the thick and wavy hair.

When Isa's lips broke away from Anna's, she grinned at her, before kissing her cheek, then her jawline, before closing her lips around Anna's earlobe. A weird sensation, sending a jolt through Anna's entire body. Oh God, where was this going.

“Say,” Isa now whispered. “Why do you have pointy ears?”

“Because I am a dhampir.” Anna's voice was barely more than a breath. “My father was a vampire.” Which was maybe not the entire truth, but really, this did not seem like the right moment to discuss her family history.

“So, do you drink blood?”

“I don't,” Anna replied. Though she could. She knew it would enhance her powers even further.

There was something hungry in Isa's eyes, as she looked at her again, pulling her into another kiss. A hungry kiss, though Anna could feel the other woman exploring her fangs as well.

“Take her to the barn,” Simon was urging now. “If you don't wanna fuck her right there in the middle of the field.” He was chuckling now.

Stupid Simon. This was stupid. This was bad. Because Anna could feel a yearning being kindled in her chest that she had only once felt before. Once more she had to swallow, before breathlessly breaking away from the kiss. “Uhm… Uhm… Simon and I, we are staying in the barn. Do you, maybe, uhm, wanna go there?”

Isa was grinning, her lips now even redder from the kiss. “Oh, I would love to.”

***

When Anna awoke the next morning, she felt another body next to hers, skin pressed against her own skin. She blushed, when she remembered the night and realized the other woman had stayed with her the night, sleeping cuddled up to her.

They had slept on furs spread over the hay, though single straws had somehow managed to sneak under their cover.

Last night she had found out, that Isa was freckled everywhere. And that quite literally. Even now Anna's gaze drifted to the exposed breasts, that were covered in freckles as well.

She blushed. Of course she would not go out and admit that Simon was right, that this had been… rather nice. Really nice. But no, she would not admit such a thing.

Speaking of Simon: Where had her brother gone? (Admittedly, she was rather sure that merchant son was involved.)

Anna just lay there, unsure if it was okay to cuddle up to that other woman for a bit longer. The autumn sun managed to send a few rays through a small hole in the barn roof, while light was flooding in through the open gate as well. The village was still quiet, as everyone were probably still sleeping the last night off. She was quite certain that she not been the only one, getting intimate last night. And probably not everyone with their respective married partners.

In the end, she decided to throw caution in the wind and put one arm around Isa's warm body, enjoying the closeness for just a bit longer.

When Isa finally awoke, she smiled at her. “Good morning.”

Already Anna felt herself blushing again. “Good morning.” Much to her surprise the other woman pressed a short kiss onto her lips.

“So,” Isa muttered without really breaking away. “How long are you staying?”

“Maybe another day,” Anna replied. “We'll probably make our way home before winter sets in.” She had told the other woman off her home, of the town of Belmont and the people living there. She did not remember too much of what exactly she had told her, though.

Isa smiled at this. “Well, then you'll stay for long enough to have some breakfast with me, right?”

Much to her own surprise, Anna chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

***

It was by the next afternoon that they left the little village that probably had not even a proper name. Simon could not hide his glee, as he walked by Anna's side.

She tried to ignore it, pulling the straps of her backpack close. Of course he felt validated in his weird and strange worldview (that mostly involved putting his dick into places). Scoffing, she accelerated her pace, walking along the rough country road.

“So,” Simon started after a while. “You did enjoy yourself those last two days.”

She really did not want to answer that, even though, yes, she had spent that last day with Isa – getting to explore certain concepts further.

“So, who was right about it all?” Her brother would not let go.

Trying to further ignore him, she just walked along. What was she even to say about it all. This got him to laugh though, because even her silence only validated him.

“How do you like it? Not being a virgin anymore?”

She groaned. “Okay, it was nice. Happy now?”

His laugh grew even louder. “Of course, I am happy,” he wheezed. “Having my little baby-sister enjoy herself a bit.”

“I could enjoy myself by beating your arse,” she grunted.

“Oh, don't be such a ruffian.” He walked closer to her, once again putting an arm around her. “There are so many better ways to amuse yourself.”

“You are impossible!”

“Duh!” He was still chuckling. “But impossible makes for a fucking nice life.”

She rolled her eyes. “What did you even do after the festival?” She tried to change the topic.

He grinned. “Do you really need to ask?”

“The young merchant?” she asked.

“The young merchant and his wife,” he corrected, his smile being quite self-congratulating.

Another groan, that she could just not stifle. “You really are impossible.”

“If you are referring to my stamina: Yes. Also, my size…”

At this she screamed, though she could not help but chuckle a bit herself. “You really only ever think with your dick.”

“Well, turns out my dick is quite brilliant.”

Now they were both laughing, as they continued their way down the road.

Sooooo. Auf Ao3 habe ich gerade meine 100ste Fanfic (also für Ao3, gesamt habe ich mittlerweile weit über 500 geschrieben lol) hochgeladen. Natürlich auch zu Castlevania. Und ja, sie wird auch früher oder später hierher kommen. Aber da sie 4 Kapitel hat (und das letzte Smut ist) muss ich noch schauen, wie ich das genau mache. :D

So, weil Bastet ja gesagt hatte, wir brauchen die Dracula/Lisa Geschichte zu Ende hier halt noch der letzte Teil davon.

A Strange Outcome

Lisa sighed, when she looked into the rag. Still nothing. Not a single drop of blood. She was not stupid. She knew what this meant. She was just unsure how to deal with it.

Standing up and pulling the rag and the underhosen back into place, before straightening up her dress. She was now four weeks overdue. Given that she had been eating regularly and was not working too hard – at least physically – there was no other explanation but pregnancy.

Of course, she had known, this could happen. Her iacă had told her about this possibility, when she had bled for the first time. She had warned her from sleeping with a man outside of marriage because of it. And of course, Lisa had learned about medicine. By now she knew quite clearly, how a pregnancy happened and even what was happening in detail. Her mind was already wandering of in that direction – but it was only, because she really did not want to think about the more pressing consequences right now.

She was pregnant. She would bear a child. His child. The child of Vlad Dracula Tepes, the king of vampires.

She swallowed. He had told her such children were rare. Children that came of human and vampire. It rarely ever happened. And yet, well… She was living in the castle for almost half a year now. She had been sleeping with the man for half the time. So, it was not that unlikely or they were… what? Lucky? Unlucky? She did not know. She did not know how to feel!

A child. A child, that would be half-vampire.

She knew, she had to talk to him, had to talk to Vlad if he did not already know or at least was able to guess as much. After all he could smell her. He could smell her bleed. Maybe he could also smell her pregnancy. She had heard of dogs being able of such feats.

At this thought she had to chuckle. He was not a dog. He was just very observant and very clueless at the same time.

She sighed and looked out the window. The sun was still up, though this had not to mean anything. While he had taken to staying with her while she fell asleep, he would leave at some time in the night. In the mornings he would either be in his chambers or the library, sometimes in the laboratory as well.

A child…

The truth was, she had not thought about having a child any time soon. She had always guessed she might have a child eventually, but she had not considered it to happen this fast. Especially, once again, as he had said half-vampires were exceedingly rare. What was she to do now?

For now, she decided, she would have some breakfast, eat a little. Her body would need it in this state. Then she would look for him and then, talk. Right?

The tiny kitchen was flooded with sunlight and empty. Lisa got out the oats and boiled them with hot water and honey, before cutting some apple from the pantry into it. They had been able to buy quite a few apples from a town nearby. Enough to last them the winter. Winter would be coming soon. The leaves were already falling.

She had really spent half a year here in this strange and magic castle – had spent half a year with him. If her iacă had known, she would've chided her and then chided her again. But she did not know. She had died the winter before Lisa had left Lupu. With 62 years she had been rather old, too.

At times Lisa wondered, if she had gone insane. Living here. Vlad had given her already so much knowledge, so much more than what she would've thought possible. She had learned things that only very few humans seemed to know of. Things that had been forgotten, he had said. With this knowledge she would be able to do so much good. And there was still more knowledge to obtain. Would it not be nice, if they also could teach others? She herself could maybe treat her little village, but there were so many other people out there, that could use this medicine, this true science.

Oh, what was she even thinking? She would have a child. She could not simply return to Lupu with a child – a half-vampire child at that. And, truth to be told, she also did not want to leave him. Not now.

This had all become much more complicated than she would've imagined and right now she was just unable to think about where this was going.

After finishing her porridge, she went to the library, hoping to find him, but he was not there. He was not in the laboratory either. She leaned against one of the tables. She knew, she needed to talk to him. It was his child as well. And they needed to make a plan. A plan on what to do next.

What would've been the first thing her iacă would've scolded her for? The fact it was a child out of wedlock? Or the fact it was a child of a vampire, of a creature of the night only spoken about in a warning tone?

Lisa sighed again. Absentmindedly she touched her belly. A child. An actual child.

Somehow, she felt dizzy. Maybe it was just, that she had such a hard time accepting it. For the last four weeks she had told herself stories of why here monthly bleeding would not, but with each day the doubts had grown. She was woman of medicine after all. She knew how those things worked.

Without really thinking so much about it, she put over her coat and left for the town. Her condition would not change till the evening. She could still talk to him then.

***

With most of the harvest done, the stalls at the market were filled on this day. While no doubt many people were busy bottling and pickling vegetables and fruit that could not be consumed quickly enough, the harvest had apparently done well. So many things to buy.

Lisa found herself wandering over the market, just to keep her mind busy. Was it not strange? She could basically buy anything she wanted. Vlad had no problem sharing his wealth with her – and he had accumulated enough over the centuries. Wealth that he often did not seem much use for anyway. He had even bought her some fine clothing, just because he had fancied seeing her in it. It was just like she was a princess in a fairytale – just that she had never wanted to be a princess.

Princesses spent their whole lives sitting in a castle being useless. At least until their husbands inevitably died. And Lisa did not want to be useless. She wanted to do good for this world, wanted to leave it a better place than when she had arrived here. She knew quite a few farmers’ daughters would kill for what she had right now. It was not, as if she did not enjoy it. She did. She enjoyed the castle, enjoyed learning, yes, even enjoyed the fine clothing, and of course she enjoyed spending time with him, with Vlad. He was good company, both as a teacher and as a lover. She liked to talk from him, learn from him, sleep with him. But, well…

She was not really sure where she had thought this would go. When she had arrived, she had only wanted to learn. But she had fallen for him and had quickly noticed he had fallen for her. There had been the thought to treat him like her husband. It was just… Would she stay here forever? If she had a child, she would have to stay for at least a couple of years, right?

“Madame?” the woman at the stall asked her.

Only now Lisa noticed she had been starring at the display for several minutes. “I am sorry,” she said. “I…” She had starred at the display without really seeing it. “I’ll take a piece of the plum cake.” The baker had made several yeast cakes with the fruits of the season. Apple and plum.

The woman in the stall watched her with one eyebrow raised, but got out a piece of the cake and handed it to her. “Here you go. That's one coin.”

Lisa got out her purse and paid. Maybe she should also buy some vegetables. She could use it in cooking dinner. Maybe a chicken, too. Or beef bones. A bone broth would do her good. Yes, that was a nice idea.

For now, she went to the side of the market square, sitting down by a building. There were children running around, playing with a wheel. What would a half-vampire child be like? Could it even play just like this? Out in the sun? It? They?

She bit into the cake. It was nice and surprisingly sweet for having been bought on a market like this. Sugar was expensive after all. She could feel how her body craved the sweet, even though she had eaten a good breakfast. It was too early for it being connected to the pregnancy. Maybe it was simply the stress of, well, this entire situation.

Why was this worrying her this much? She was 23 by now. It was a good age to have her first child. Yet, it seemed off. The child's father was Dracula, the king of vampires, after all.

After finishing her cake, she got up with the plan to buy ingredients for her dinner. She wanted to keep herself busy. Still, her gaze was following the children. One of them had fallen down, was crying now. It was four boys, two girls by the looks of it.

What would her child be? Boy or girl?

“Excuse me,” someone said.

She turned around. There was an older woman – maybe in her fifties – standing next to her. From the looks of it, the crone had been watching her for some while. There was a knowing smirk on her face, showing her incomplete teeth.

“Yes?” Lisa asked.

“You are with child, are you not?” The woman looked at her from wrinkly eyes.

“I…” A part of Lisa wanted to rebel against the intrusive question. But she knew questions like this were not strange. When her sister had gotten pregnant, everybody had asked, long before she had told someone. Older women tended to know. Thus, she sighed. “Yes. I guess I am.”

The woman eyed her. “You are from out of town. I've seen you several times before, but you do not live here, do you?”

This was a harder question to answer. Of course, most people here and in the surrounding villages had been gossiping about the strange castle that one day had simply appeared – and would disappear from time to time. There were lots of stories going around. Stories about a curse, about witches and demons. “I am from one of the villages,” she said.

“Your father must be a merchant though, is he not?”

“What?” It took Lisa a moment to realize the woman was speaking about her clothing, which was to fine for a farmer.

“Your husband, then?”

Yes. She might as well go with that. After all, he was the father of her child. She might be unable to marry him in front of a priest, but what difference would it make? “My husband, yes.”

“You are a lucky woman then.”

“I guess,” Lisa muttered with a sigh.

A grin showed on the woman's face. “He does not know yet, does he?”

“No.”

The crone shook her head as if she knew how this was. “Help an old woman carry her groceries home, will you?” She gestured towards her own basket and Lisa understood. She was not sure whether she wanted the help of this weird old woman, but, well, maybe she needed just somebody to talk to.

***

The old woman's home was at the edge of the town. It was a small home, barely more than a hut. When Lisa entered, there was only one room, though she remembered her old home to not be much bigger.

“Thank you,” the crone said, when Lisa put down the basket. She gestured towards the table near the middle of the room.

Judging by the interior, Lisa could say two things: This old woman was an herbal healer. She was also living with one other person, as there were two beds at the end of the room. Almost every bit of space underneath the room's ceilings was hung with dried herbs and even some spices.

“Sit down, sit down,” the woman urged.

Lisa did so, even though a part of her wanted to go. “With whom do you live?” she asked.

“My daughter,” the woman said. “But she is out of town right now.” She smiled another toothless smile. “I shall make some tea.” With that she lit a fire and started heating water above it.

Lisa sighed. She knew the woman wanted to talk to her, maybe speak to her much in the same way her iacă once did. Admittedly, Lisa might need that. She was still feeling so utterly confused about it all. About everything.

The woman now turned to her. “My name is Măriuca. What's yours?”

They had not even introduced themselves to one another, had they? “Lisa,” she replied. “I'm Lisa.”

Măriuca smiled. “It's nice to meet you, Lisa.”

“You're an herbal woman,” Lisa now spoke. “I learned once under an herbalist.”

“Ah, you did?” Măriuca chuckled. “And yet you got married to a merchant?”

Well, what was she to say? If she told her, her – well, whatever he was now – was a scientist, the old woman would not understand. If she told her, he was a healer, she would ask about her clothing. A merchant, well, a merchant was as well as a descriptor as any. “Yes,” she hence simply said.

The water started steaming, but was not boiling yet. Climbing onto a chair the old woman plucked some dried mind from her ceiling. “I see, you have a complicated story.”

She did not even have an idea. “Yes. Something like that.”

“So, is you husband away currently?”

“No. He is at home.”

“But you have not yet told him.”

If he had not found out himself. Lisa sighed. “No. I have not.”

Putting the dried leaves into a pitcher, the woman turned around. “Do you want to keep it?”

“What?”

“The child. Do you want to keep it?”

Lisa looked at her. She had not even thought about this question before. But she had learned under an herbalist once. She knew, there were herbs that might make the body reject the child – though they could be poisonous to her as well. But she had not even considered it. That was not was she wanted. What she wanted was a plan, a clearness in her mind that seemed to evade her right now.

She sighed. Oh, how to explain it? “I want to keep it… I think.” Once more she found herself touching her belly, even though there was nothing visible yet. “It's just…” She pursed her lips. “I thought I would travel more, before it got to this.” And there was the fact that the child's father was not human, but how would she ever mention that?

“I see,” Măriuca said. Now she poured the water from the metal can into the pitcher. “Well, there will always be a time later, you know? Once the child has stopped nursing…” She looked at Lisa. “Your husband can probably afford someone to look after the child.”

If it only was that easy. “Yes, probably.” Would the child have to drink blood? She did not know such things. Would it be alive or undead? “There's also the fact that… My husband's family might not approve of our union or the child.” Vlad had told her that much. Vampirekind did not look favorably on relationships such as theirs. The traditional thing to do would've been for him to transform her, to turn her into a vampire as well. They never talked about it. It had just been a silent agreement, that it was nothing they wanted. Lisa could not even imagine living like that, without seeing the sun. Drinking blood at that.

“I see…” Now Măriuca put two clay mugs onto the table and sat down. “Is that why you have not told him yet?”

“To be honest,” Lisa replied, “I tried to ignore it, tried to tell myself I am not pregnant. It's just past the point I can do so.” She sighed. “I know, I need to talk to him. I just don't know what to tell him.”

“Doesn't he want an heir?”

“An heir?” She had not even thought about it like that. How did vampires even deal with such things given their immortality? Who would inherit a vampire lord's fortune, once the vampire lord died? She guessed it was nothing vampires considered. They lived their lives, as if they would never die. At least from what he had told her. “Maybe.”

“It might actually please him, you know? Even if his family does not approve. What would they do?”

Well, possibly killing her or the child. Bloodily. Drink her blood, maybe. But she shrugged. “I don't know.”

The crone sighed in understanding. She took Lisa's hand. “I know, this has to be a lot. I assume it is your first child.”

“It is,” she replied.

Măriuca watched her with surprisingly keen eyes. “Is your husband a good husband?”

Lisa looked at her. “What?” It took her a moment to understand. Then a smile found its way onto her lips. “He is. He is kind and… very wise.” Things that nobody would ever believe, if they knew, who she was talking about. “I think he cares for me deeply.”

“Then you should just talk to him,” Măriuca said. “He should take care of you and the child. And you'll see…” She sighed. “I know it's a lot, especially if it's just first child. Children can be a blessing and a curse.” She chuckled. “But you'll see. It's gonna be rewarding in its own way.”

***

Dawn was breaking, when Lisa reached the castle again. She sighed, looking up at the enormous structure, which was painted orange by the setting sun. Maybe Vlad was already up. Maybe they could talk. He would probably come to accompany come dinner either way.

She had spent a good chunk of the afternoon with Măriuca, who had been like her iacă, in that she had then gotten into talking. She had told her about her late husband and the four children she had – at least the four that survived childhood. She had shared some wisdom and some superstitions, while Lisa had still pondered her conundrum.

Of course, there was still the possibility she would lose the child. She had seen it in her village, too. But if not, well, she guessed she would be mother to a half-vampire child.

Climbing up the stairs in the castle, she found at least the kitchen empty. In the end she had decided to cook some bone broth for tomorrow and eat vegetables and eggs for this day. At least cooking would keep her busy.

She wished, she was at home where she had people she knew, people she could talk to. But it would be rather hard to explain her current situation to them as well. It was such a strange situation, such a strange outcome, when she had left Lupu with the wish to learn medicine.

While the broth was already cooking, she prepared the vegetables and the egg. By now the sun had set – ever since she lived here, she had become increasingly aware of whenever that happened.

She was roasting the vegetables, when his voice sounded behind her. “What are you preparing today?”

She could already feel herself falter. “Just some roasted vegetables,” she said and sighed. She was a coward for not speaking to him before she left. Turning around to him, she quickly saw the worry appear in his gaze.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Has something happened?”

It was hard to find the right words. She could not even say why. Instead of speaking, she went over to him, putting her forehead against his chest. It felt good, when he embraced her.

“Lisa?”

She drew in a deep breath. Why was this so hard? She looked at him, swallowed. “I am pregnant, I think.”

From his expression she gathered, that he had not made the connection yet. Somehow this relieved her. It only felt right this way around. There was confusion in his gaze, then worry, then disbelief. “Pregnant?” he asked.

She nodded. “I am four weeks overdue and by now there is not much of an explanation left.”

Even now he was holding her, though his gaze fixed on the window. He was thinking. For once it was him, who frowned. “That's…” He hesitated, then looked at her again. “Are you okay?”

She smiled and at the same time felt a bit like crying. “I think so. I…” She shook her head. “I am feeling overwhelmed. I… I did not expect this to happen. You said it was rare.”

“It is,” he replied. “It really is.”

A laugh escaped it. “Does this mean we are lucky or unlucky?”

“I don't know.” He pulled her close. “What do you think?”

He was mostly concerned about her, wasn't he? All of this and he was concerned about her. “I don't know,” she admitted. One more sigh came over her lips. “I mean… I… I love you. It's just… I have not expected to be a mother this soon.”

Now he brushed his long fingers through her hair. “Are you okay with it?”

“I… I think so,” she breathed. “I think so.” Then she paused. “Am I going to be okay? I mean, if the child is half-vampire…”

He sighed. “From what I know, yes. It… Well, see, I've only ever heard of three women, who carried a dhampir to term. I've not been there. Because it is rare. But from all I know, you should be okay. Within the terms that you might be okay in a human pregnancy.”

“That's good,” she muttered. Relief filled her. Maybe this was one of the reasons she had been so worried. A half-vampire… This just seemed so strange. Once more she put her arms around him, pressing herself against his body. She needed this for the moment, because right now her mind was filled with too many thoughts, her heart filled with too many feelings. Again, she laughed without wanting to. “My iacă would be so angry with me. My mama, too.”

“Your iacă?”

“My grandmother,” she replied. “She always warned me about having a child out of wedlock.” It seemed so weird that she was still thinking about this. As if it was the biggest problem they faced. “She was really worried about those kinds of things.” She sighed. “I guess many people are.” Now she shook her head. “I mean, what about other vampires. You said they don't approve of such a thing, of…”

He cupped her face with his hands. “Lisa. Breath.”

She drew in a shaky breath, looking at him. Maybe she was panicking. Now tears filled her eyes. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I love you, you know? I want this child, I think. It's just… I did not see any of this coming. You. Us. This. It's all a bit much.”

“Lisa.” Now he bowed down to pull her against his shoulder. “It's… It's going to be fine. I promise. If you want this child, it will be fine.” He held her shaking shoulders, while she grasped onto him. “And nobody will question it. Because they won't question me.” He sounded very sure of it. “They will talk, but that's all they'll do.”

She nodded, but did not manage to speak. This really was a lot. Was she so stupid, that she had not seen this coming? But it felt good to be held like this, to be held by him. She trusted, that he would protect her. Her and the child. There would be a child. She would be a mother. How had this happened?

Crying against his shoulder, she would not let go of him and neither would he let go of her. The burning smell of the vegetables did fill the kitchen, but for the moment neither of them cared. This was more important right now. They were more important.

She could not say, how long it took her to calm down. But in the end, she did. She felt better, though her eyes were still burning. Maybe she had needed this. To cry.

When he let go of her there was a careful smile on his lips. He took her hand softly into his. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

She nodded and his smile grew wider. He took both her hands, kissed them.

“Lisa,” he whispered, “I cannot say to you what will happen next, but I can promise you to protect you and to cherish you. And I might not be able to swear to any God that I'll be loyal to you, but I can promise it to you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Once again, she found herself frowning, while she looked at him. “What are you saying?”

Still, he was holding her hands in his. There was a rarely seen vulnerability in his eyes. “I love you, Lisa. And I am asking you to be my wife.”

Lisa stared at him for a moment. What would her iacă have said to this? Her marrying a vampire, a creature they had told her bloody tales about, the monster from her fairy tales. The monster – not the prince. And yet, here she was. Pregnant and very much in love with him. All, because she had wanted to learn medicine. She nodded and finally managed to smile. “I… Yes,” she whispered. “My answer is yes.”

For a moment they just looked at each other. Somehow, it was relieving to know that this seemed all very new for him as well. There was a lot she would have to learn, but at least they could learn it together. When he pulled her close again, she almost felt like laughing again.

All of this was strange, she knew that. It did not sound quite logically. If it was a story, it might raise some questions from listening kids. The woman, who wanted to be an actual doctor and went to the monster. The monster, that fell in love with the woman. And then the woman married the monster and they had a child.

“I still want to be doctor, though,” she said after a while.

He looked at her, kissed her, before touching her forehead to his. “And you will be. I swear.”

She sighed. “Good.”

After one more kiss, he finally broke away from her. “I think your dinner has burned.”

“I am afraid so.”

He chuckled. “I will cook you something else.”

“You will?”

“Yes, I will. I have to take care of you now, right?” He smiled at her and his smile was soft. “Now that you're my wife.”

She laughed and shook her head, suddenly feeling much light. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she sighed. “You're a strange man.”

“And you are a strange woman,” he said. “And I think I am very much thankful for that.”

Okay, heute habe ich dann mal etwas anderes für euch. Also immer noch Castlevania (duh), aber... Dieses Mal mal Isaac/Hector.

Und es sei dazu gesagt, dass diese Fic nach "The lesser Evil" (aka meiner NaNo Geschichte) angesiedelt ist, was halt auch bedeutet, dass in dieser Geschichte halt Striga und Morana wieder in der Steiermark sind - da es halt ist womit The lesser Evil auf der Seite der Geschichte endet. Nur damit das nicht für Verwirrung sorgt. :P

Five Games of Chess

First Game

Hector had to admit that he still felt nervous having the two vampires around. Sure, they had kept so many of Carmilla's surviving forces after the takeover, but it was different with Morana and Striga. He was well aware that they could use their help – they really could – but in the end they had been part of what had been done to him. And even after more than two years it was hard to forget.

With a sigh he looked into his manuscript. Yes, having Morana teach him in the ancient languages was useful to his writing. And still… He could not help but feel anxious.

He was not even sure why he was writing the book. It had become an end of itself. But there was the simple fact that from what he could tell studying both the library of Styria and the bits and pieces from Dracula's library he had gotten his hands on, it was nothing anyone has ever tried. Uniting the knowledge of vampires and the knowledge of humans.

He knew his manuscript was at times quite rambly. He would probably end up rewriting the entire thing once it was done, but… writing it felt still good.

Outside the sun was setting, which meant that inevitably parts of the castle would now rise.

Hector enjoyed those afternoons he had mostly to himself, sharing them only with the humans now living here – well, and those night creatures that kept around as guards. Isaac would now rise as well. Even after all the time he had not shook the habit of rising with the vampires – at least as long as there was no human business to attend to.

With a low sigh, Hector closed the book. This was probably all the writing he would manage this day. He tidied up his workplace, though he had taken to the habit of keeping the books he was currently working with, out. Even though he had a nice room by now, he preferred to keep to the library for his work. It was just more useful. This way he had immediate access to other books if he needed to look something up. And nobody dared to touch his stuff while he was not working.

Starting on his way to his room, he was wondering how to spent the evening. Even he would stay up until past midnight and in return only rise around noon.

It was in the corridors that he met Isaac. It was still strange to see him smile, though he held his body in the same upright posture he had always known him in. “Good evening,” Isaac greeted him and Hector could not help a slight grin.

“Good morning,” he countered.

“You have finished your work for the day?” Isaac asked.

“More or less,” Hector replied. “I at times doubt I will ever truly be finished with it.”

This made the other man's smile broaden once more. “I am sure you will, sooner or later.”

“Rather later than sooner.” Hector shrugged.

“Care to join me?”

“On, what? Your regular evening stroll?” Isaac had taken up the habit to inspect the castle on every evening, talk with some of the guards – including the vampires. He was – well – dedicated to this entire project. Making this work. All of it.

“Something like that, yes.”

Hector could not help a sigh. He still felt rather insecure to be around other people. They tended to be hard to talk to. Isaac was not, most of the time. Though it was also not easy conversation they were having. Still, he knew how long it had taken for him to come around to something like this. So maybe…

“Sure,” he replied and managed a smile for himself.

Isaac had changed so much in those last three years. There was not much left from the quite aloof man, he had once met in Dracula's court. Isaac just like him had avoided human company for the longest of times. It was maybe the one thing they had had in common – both with each other, as well as with Dracula. By now, though, it had become clear to Hector that it had been much more of an active choice for the other man, than it had been for him. Hector often felt exhausted being around other people. It was a lot, trying to keep up with their thoughts – and with their emotions as well. It might well be, that it had been this fact that had made him so attracted to vampires. Vampires, well, they tended to be less emotional than humans and in a weird way easier to read.

Isaac had become somewhat easier to read with time. He was not kidding himself, though. It was mostly that by now he – Hector – had a good feel for the kind of person Isaac was. He was thoughtful and would not act rash. Much to Hector's surprise he was also caring. He actually cared about the people of Styria – and weirdly enough that seemed to include Hector as well.

When they stepped outside into the courtyard, Hector could not help but shiver a bit. It was winter, after all, and winter in Styria – especially up in the alps, where the castle was located – was icy cold. Especially at night. It had snowed for most of the day, but by now the temperatures had fallen enough that even snow would not fall.

Strangly enough Isaac rarely seemed bothered by it. He held himself upright, just as he always did, looking out over the mountains.

“Sometimes I have to wonder whether you are not a vampire very good at hiding it,” Hector muttered, getting the other man to smile.

“What makes you think so?”

“You barely seem to feel the cold.” And as Hector well knew: Vampires did not feel temperatures in the same way humans did.

Isaac shrugged at this. “I am just in control,” he replied. “As long as I don't stay out here too long the cold will not harm me.”

Hector almost felt like laughing at this. It felt just like such an Isaac thing to say. “Speak for yourself.” He wrapped his own arms around himself, rubbing his shoulders to keep warm as he followed Isaac up to the outer wall. Admittedly the view from up here was a great one. The night was clear and starry, with a crescent moon illuminating the valley below.

There was also no hint at another attack. Ever since they had brokered their peace with Bavaria they did not have to worry it seemed. Even though the world was changing.

Still, he breathed in relief when he entered the warm castle again.

“Maybe you should bring a coat, next time,” Isaac teased.

“Well, it was not as if I had made any plans going outside, was it?”

A simple smirk. “Well, I guess not.” Isaac strode down the corridor in the direction of the kitchens. “Care to join me for supper?”

“You mean breakfast?”

This earned him a chuckle, but Hector shrugged. “Yeah, why not.”

***

In the end they ended up in the sitting room, which Isaac had taken to use. They had some supper – grilled meat and pickled vegetables – as well as some wine for Hector. Isaac did not drink alcohol after all.

It was only here that Hector could see the other man relax ever so slightly. There was still strength projected from his posture, but not the same stiffness he would hold himself to outside. Hector admittedly could not make sense of it. Of why the other man had to project that much strength, had to hold himself to that high standards.

But maybe it was just one of the other things Hector was oblivious to.

They ate in silence for a while, until Isaac looked at him. “What do you make of the two by now?”

There was no question in Hector's mind who he was talking about. He could not help a slight sigh. “I don't know.” Because even with everything he could not help a slight tinge of fear whenever either of the two vampire women was present. They had been part of the plot to enslave him. And he also still remembered the warning Lenore once had given him: “Morana will torture you not to make you compliant, but because it helps her relax.”

The two of them had been here for now three months and so far had played by Isaac's rules – but a part of him was not able to relax around them.

Isaac watched him. “You don't know?”

“I really don't,” Hector replied. Because even after everything… All of that shit with Carmilla would not have happened if either of her “sisters” had stood up to her.

The thought of Carmilla alone was enough to make him shudder. He was glad she was dead.

The expression in Isaac's eyes was attentive. Maybe he could guess what Hector was thinking about after all. He sighed, emptied his water. “We'll have to see,” he muttered.

“Yeah, I guess we'll have to.” Hector's own gaze glid over to the window, watching the starry sky outside.

All of this still felt unreal at times. To live here in this castle – free. Well, mostly, he guessed. At times he wondered, whether it would not have been better to return to Rhodes – but he found that he held no fondness for that place either. There were just bad memories.

There were bad memories in the castle, too, of course. But… It still felt wrong to think so, but at least he was not alone.

“What are you thinking about?” Isaac inquired, making Hector look over to him once more.

“Just… How strange it is… The way the things ended up.” He tried – and failed – to smile. It was not a thing that came natural to him after all.

“I guess.” Isaac put the empty plate down onto the table, now himself thinking for a while. Then he smiled. “What do you say to a game of chess?”

Hector frowned. “Where is this coming from suddenly?”

A simple shrug. “You get moody when you get lost in your thoughts. I thought a game of chess could distract you for a while.”

At this Hector could not help but chuckle. Was he really getting moody? Well, he might be. So he shrugged. “Yes. We might… We might as well.”

Second Game

Isaac had to reform his opinion on Hector once again. It was strange really. He thought himself able to see through people easily enough, but for one reason or another he was unable to pin this man down.

When he had met him in Dracula's court, he had considered him to be loyal to a fault but also painfully naive. He might have been right about the second thing, but not the first. Then he had seen him as a traitor, as the man responsible for Dracula's death – only to realize that Dracula's death had been something inevitable from the start. By the time he had reached Styria, he had given up on any plans to kill the man and yet was surprised by him again, as Hector had not only cut of his own finger to allow him to win the battle, but had also given him a way to challenge Carmilla directly. Only to then retreat to his books and completely dedicate himself to the science of magic. So it seemed at least. Never once had he actually considered the man to be a powerful mage, though. Until that fight in Rome.

Isaac had to wonder why it was so hard to pin him down. Maybe, he reasoned, it was simply that they were not speaking enough. They never had, had they? At the court it just seemed like a bad idea. In Isaac's mind there had never once been a doubt that in the end Dracula would kill both of them as well. A rather stupid assumption, considering that Dracula had saved his life in the end.

Maybe he never really had been good at seeing through people after all…

He watched the other man, as he was considering his next move. His eyes were of a greyish blue. Like ice. Quite fitting in a strange way. His hair ashen. At times Isaac found himself wondering, whether there had been a not quite human creature somewhere in his ancestry.

After way too long of a consideration, Hector moved one of his pawns and settled back.

This was a good thing. Them spending time together. Because, after all, it might be good to actually get to know the man. Despite everything Isaac did consider him a friend by now. It was a bit ironic, really. All of it was.

He himself directed his attention to the playing board, knowing fairly well that Hector was aiming to take his queen. He liked to do that, even though he should very well know by now that Isaac relied on his knights before his queen. Still, playing into this tendency of his friend always brought him an advantage. So, he moved one of his bishops – leaving the queen for the taking.

Maybe Hector realized he was planning something, as he hesitated to take the queen. Those blue eyes were looking at him deep in thought, before he finally opted to move his rock into defense – rather than taking the queen.

They should talk more. Isaac knew that. They should talk more.

It was not as if they were not talking. But when they did, they tended to speak about the political situation, about issues of Styria. Maybe about magic.

It was funny, really. For the most part they had spent now four years in vicinity of each other, but Isaac knew very little about the man Hector was. How had he learned to forge? Why had he decided to follow Dracula? He knew Hector had been of the believe Dracula just wanted to curl the humans, put them into pens. He had been afraid of humans more than he had been afraid of vampires. And Isaac could not help but wonder, why that was.

After all, it might be a trait they shared. Because for the longest part Isaac had feared humans as well. How could he not? So many humans he had met had tried to harm him, kill him at times. They had taken his home from him, his family. So how could he not fear their species?

He moved his knight and looked at the other man. “Check.”

Hector pursed his lips as he was thinking. There was no way for him to beat the knight so his only possibility was to move the king to the side.

Funnily enough Hector was not very good at the game. He had not the foresight to be an effective player, making rash decisions and going after plans that did not lead to victory. Like how he would chase around the queen again and again.

Isaac moved a single pawn. He knew in what position he wanted to bring the king – and for it he needed to allow his rock to move freely.

“You have a plan,” Hector noted as he was pondering his next move.

“I do,” Isaac admitted.

Hector looked at the pieces on the board, clearly trying to guess what he was trying to do next. Hesitantly he moved his own bishop back into a defensive position. Admittedly a move that Isaac did not see coming. It was not like Hector to play defensively.

Even though till this day Isaac lacked details, he knew Hector had been through a lot. Because he knew something bad had happened to the man before he had met Dracula. He also knew bad things had happened after Carmilla had taken him from Braila.

And still… When Isaac had arrived in Styria, the man had been willing to die. He had felt responsible for Dracula's death and had been willing to die to make up for it. He also had not hesitated in cutting of his own finger – the stump still remained on his hand to this day.

After a moment, Isaac moved his second knight. He would take that bishop first and then put Hector in check.

Once more Hector was pursing his lips, trying to understand the plan. He watched Isaac in the same way Isaac was watching him. Then, very hesitantly, he moved his rock in a position, that he could take the first knight.

So he was finally understanding.

This did make Isaac's plan a bit more complicated, as he had to move the knight out of harm's way at first.

This made Hector smile just a bit.

Isaac chuckled at this, leading to a confused expression.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Isaac muttered as he waited for the next move.

Hector pondered once more. “Why can't I help to get the feeling to be judged constantly?”

“Not judging,” Isaac replied. “I am still just wondering…”

When he did not finish, Hector looked up at him. “Wondering what exactly?”

Isaac did not reply immediately. This was a good place to start, right? To start actually talking to each other. He just had to admit, that he himself was not well versed in talking about himself. “Wondering, what is motivating you.”

Another frown. “Motivating me?”

“Yes.” Isaac smiled. “Motivating you.”

Hector did not seem to know what to make out of this. After some more hesitation he still moved his rock into the position the knight had stood before. “I just… want to write my book.”

Now Isaac had to ponder the game as well. He had still no doubt he might win in the end - but it was getting more complicated than originally expected. “I know,” he muttered, while pressing his hand against his chin. “But to what end?”

Much to his surprise this seemed to be a sore spot, as he could see a slight twitch in Hector's face. “For myself,” he replied. “Just for myself.”

Isaac moved one of his pawns, so he could take the rock. “And after that?” They were still young, after all. Hector not older then 25, Isaac turning 28 in the next month. They were still young and if they were not killed, well, there would be at least 30 more years in their lives.

Hector shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe… I'll just write another book.”

“For the rest of your life?”

This made the man groan with annoyance. “I don't quite get what you're after, Isaac.”

“I am trying to figure out who you are,” Isaac replied. “That's all.”

Now Hector evaded his gaze, again looking at the board. “I am Hector,” he muttered. “Is that not enough?”

Third Game

Quite frankly: Hector did just not know what Isaac was after. Once again, they were sitting here in his room playing chess. He did want to humor the man – and yet, he would rather prefer to be in his own room, reading a book. He really did not quite know what had gotten into Isaac. Recently, well, recently he had started to ask questions about him. And Hector did not understand to what end.

Also, he started to hate chess – as most of the times he lost. His eyes darted over the pieces, trying to figure out Isaac's plan. He had understood by now, that Isaac made long winded plans and that the best way to counter them was to act in way that he could not predict. Still…

He moved his pawn. It was one of the ways that worked. Actively using the pawns was a way that was hard to predict, it seemed. So that was, what he opted for.

Meanwhile he was all-too aware that Isaac was watching him more than he was observing the board.

He sighed. “What is it, Isaac?”

“It's nothing,” the man replied, making Hector groan.

“Are you still trying to figure me out?” He did not know to what end that would be useful. Isaac should know at least, he was loyal to him and… that should be enough, right?

Isaac did not reply immediately, instead opting to move his rock. “I was wondering, actually. Your book. You write about magic.”

“Yes,” Hector muttered, unsure of where this was going. “So?”

“What have you found?”

Hector frowned. Funnily enough Isaac never had really asked about it. He had listened, at times, when Hector had talked about some little pieces – but he had never asked. “Are you sure I won't bore you?”

“I am rather sure, yes,” Isaac replied.

Still frowning Hector moved another pawn. “I am trying to understand the differences in which vampire magic has developed compared to human magic,” he finally said. “Because in the end, magic is still magic – it should be the same fundamental force at play. Yet, they differ a lot in their execution – and there is of course the fact that there are certain kinds of magic humans can use but vampires can't, while the same seemingly holds true the other way around.”

Hector listened. “Is that so?” He moved a pawn of his own.

“Yes. From what I can tell all magic traditions go back to the same original way of using it,” he continued, almost half sure he would quickly bore his friend. “But while vampires have expended on this one way, humans seemingly have invented new ways again and again – branching out into many more versions.” After some hesitation he moved his own knight. Something had to be good about this single playing piece, as Isaac relied quite heavily on it.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because humans forgot a lot and vampires didn't,” Hector said. “That was what Dracula has always said, right? I have to wonder though… How can humanity forget so much over the years?”

Isaac moved another pawn once more, beating one of Hector's. “I assume it is because humans try to suppress knowledge again and again. They are trying it with religions, they do it with science as well. When people cannot teach the knowledge to others… well, they die and the knowledge dies with it. And if the knowledge is not wide spread – as it is the case for magic – well, it gets lost even easier, doesn't it?”

Hector sighed. Of course, that made sense. It did. He had read so much into history. Both human history and vampire history. There were so many books here. Books and scrolls. And he wanted to learn it all – as long as he could decipher the languages. “It still seems strange…” He moved his bishop.

“What is the magic the vampires build on?” Isaac asked to keep the conversation going, making Hector look at him with some doubt.

“Do you really want to know?”

Isaac returned his gaze and smiled. “I do. It seems to fascinate you – so it must be a fascinating topic.”

Hector did not really get it. Was Isaac trying to be nice? He sighed and looked back onto the playing board. “It seems that a lot of vampire magic seems to build on Babylonian magic. I have no way to proof it, but I assume vampires hail from Ancient Babylon, as I can't find any older mentions of them in the texts.” He shrugged. “And both their magic and their philosophy build on it.” He shook his head. “They actually spent a lot of time thinking about philosophy. Trying to make sense of their eternal lives, it seems. Most of them do not believe in God or any other gods, did you know that?”

“I have come to that conclusion, yes.” Isaac was still looking at him, watching him, instead of making his next move.

“And because of that, they are trying to find a different sense in it all…” He was unsure how to talk to Isaac about it. After all Isaac was religious – while Hector had long lost the believe in any higher forces governing the world. Given all the senseless violence humans did to each other, it just did not seem like a thing a higher force would allow.

He had read the bible, of course. In it, God would punish humans for all sorts of sins – would punish them on Earth. So, if there was a God capable of doing so: Why would he allow humans to sin in his name?

“How do they do that?” Isaac asked.

“They tend to believe in nature – and use it to reason. In nature foxes and hares have a strange symbiosis. If there are not enough foxes, the hares will breed. Then the foxes can feed and produce more off-spring. When there are too many foxes, they will inevitably hunt down the hares and then starve. It goes like that on and on. Vampires believe they are nature's answer to humanity. The foxes to their hares.”

Isaac chuckled. “That lines up surprisingly well with your interpretation, doesn't it?”

“What?” Hector was not quite able to follow.

“Didn't you say something like that? How vampires were like predating animals?”

For a moment Hector had to think, but then he remembered saying something like that once. He looked back onto the board. “Yes. Maybe.”

“Don't you think so anymore?”

Leaning back on the sofa, Hector gave a sigh. “I don't.”

Isaac did not say anything, instead finally moving his next piece.

The truth was, that Lenore had changed all of it. And Carmilla had, too. Carmilla had been malicious. There was no way around it. She had taken joy in beating him up – in making him suffer while she had dragged him across half of Europe. And Lenore… It was hard to place. But for better or worse he had seen a humanity in her, that he had not seen in anyone of Dracula's court. She had been different. At least she had been to him. No matter what she had done to him.

But he could not say that, could he? How could he expect Isaac to understand any of that? He had not been there. He had not talked to Lenore the same way he had. To him she had been nothing but another vampire – and while he was more or less sure Isaac was able to see their humanity as well… He still had not gotten to know her the way Hector had.

And now she was gone. Forever.

He looked at the play board, when he suddenly was realizing Isaac’s plan – well, at least when it came to the game. He was building his offense, wanted to force the king into one corner behind a pawn. So the way around it was to move said pawn.

“Huh,” Isaac commented.

With a sigh Hector leaned back once more. “Most vampires were human once. It hence stands to reason that they are human in their very nature. They just have the luxury of time. We humans… we are hasty, because we don’t have more than 60, 70 years to live, if we are not killed before by sickness or a war. Vampires don’t have to bother themselves with those worries. They can plan further in advance.”

Much to Hector’s surprise Isaac actually withdrew one of his knights, taking a more defensive position.

“So your judgement is, that vampires are just immortal humans?”

Hector nodded. “Basically. Yes. Immortal humans, who too quickly get drunk on their own power.”

Isaac chuckled at this. “I see.”

Now Hector moved his own knight again. If he took Isaac’s bishop, he could actually put him in check. “Is that so funny?”

“I would not say it is funny. It is just… I have never thought about it this way,” Isaac replied. He looked at him once more. “You do have interesting thoughts. You should talk about them more often.”

Hector scoffed. “Yeah, sure.”

“I mean it,” Isaac said. “You have a bright mind. You know it, otherwise you would not be writing your book. So instead of keeping all your thoughts locked away for a distant future… You might want to try discussing them. We both still might learn from one another.”

Doubtfully Hector looked at him, before he sighed. “Maybe.”

Fourth Game

Isaac groaned as he went to the ground again. Maybe he was going about this the wrong way – he was a good fighter. A great fighter in fact. He could easily take out several humans, hell, several normal vampires without breaking a sweat, even without the help of night creatures or any magic. But not all vampires were the same. While skills obviously differed widely in humans, the same was true for vampires on a much higher degree.

He was well aware that he never would’ve been able to take on Dracula – not that he ever had the desire to do so. But much the same could be said about Striga as well.

It might have been his own pride that had led him to challenge her. Well, that and the knowledge that he needed to train, just in case that any other vampire lord or lady might get the idea to claim Styria. He normally spared with the night creatures of his own making – but it was never a fair fight, as they would hold back against him. It was in their nature.

“Not so high and mighty without your beasts, are you?” Striga teased him, towering over him.

Yes, it might also have been quite the stupid idea. Because he was also aware that she could easily use this situation to kill him and take over the “kingdom”. She did not such thing, though, instead offering her hand to help him up.

His pride wanted him to brush it away, but he remembered that he should put more effort into diplomacy. Taking her hand, well, that was an act of diplomacy as well.

They were not using weapons, nor magic. Though frankly, that might have been a bad idea as well. He should at least use some weapons to even the odds. Without weapons he had no chance to even harm her, while her claws had already left their marks on his skin.

“Are you sure you do not want to use your knife, little human?”

He drew in a deep breath and decided to do away with his pride. “Not my knife,” he said and instead collected his belt from his things. It would give him greater range – which might be worth something against her. And as it was not a magic weapon, she would be easily able to regenerate any harm done. Easier than he, who would take a while to heal those scratches.

Striga watched him, a strange look of anticipation on her face. It seemed she was taking great joy in this little match. A grin showed her fangs, as she took her fighting stance again.

He let his belt hang loosely, waiting for her to move. She understood, started her attack. Like all vampires, she was quick, though her greatest asset for certain was her enormous strength.

He sidestepped her attack, moving as little as possible. He had made one observation when it came to vampires and their like. Subconsciously they were all-too aware of their speed and because of that made many unnecessary movements. So the best way to bridge the difference in speed was to not make those movements, move only as much as needed.

She quickly turned, her fist aimed for his head. Just in time he brought the belt up, catching her arm in it and using her own speed against her to bring her out of balance. Indeed, she stumbled, but was not brought to fall – yet, he still had her caught.

That easily she was not beaten however, as her foot quickly found its way into his stomach, making him cough. Yet, he used this, too, to unbalance her once again. Letting himself fall to the ground, he kicked the knee of her standing leg twice. This time she fell – with him rolling to the side just in time to not be buried under her. Still having control over her arm, he pulled it behind her back, pressing her to the ground.

To his surprise she laughed. “Well, there you got me, little human.” With that she simply got up and brushed him of. There was humor in her voice. “I doubt you can hold me down without your human magics, though.”

***

Isaac was not really a mage like Hector. He was a fighter. He knew forging magic and knew how to spell a weapon, but that was all of it. He had never needed more. Maybe a mistake, he had to admit now. Most certainly a mistake. He tended to not have any problems to fight those normal humans or even most vampires, no, but one of the mightier vampire lords? Or another mage?

Though every inch of his body hurt in a different way, he still held himself upright, while walking down the corridor. He had to project power, after all. It was bad enough that he now knew for certain that even with all his tricks he was fairly helpless against a strong vampire – as long as he did not use magic or the help of a night creature.

He would have to come up with a plan sooner or later.

Thinking about this, he did not even notice Hector, until his dry sarcasm permeated his mind: “You look like shit.”

Isaac blinked at him. So much for keeping up the façade it seemed. “I am fine.”

“What happened to you?” There was more amusement than concern in Hector's voice, while he watched him. “Did you fall down some stairs or…”

Isaac sighed. “I tried to fight Striga.”

“And why exactly would you do that?”

“Just to find out if I could do it.”

“You couldn't.”

“Not without magic or night creatures, no.” Isaac shook his head and continued his path, only for Hector to follow.

“And why was that something you needed to know?”

“Because I want to be prepared if there is another attack.”

Hector eyed him from the side, before it was him, who sighed. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me. You need to be patched up.”

For once Isaac was frowning. “I am fine.”

“You are not. Come with me.” After a long moment of hesitation Hector took him by the wrist, gently but firmly pulling him along. A part of Isaac wanted to fight him – he had always dealt with any wounds on his own – but in the end he did not find it in himself to do so. So he just allowed Hector to drag him along to Hector's chambers.

“Sit.” The instruction was short and clear.

Funnily enough Isaac came here only rarely. He had been surprised, really. After he had taken over Styria, Hector had decided to stay in the room allotted to him by the vampires – even though he could've had any other room in the castle. Isaac did not quite understand it. While he still only had a rough idea of what had happened to his friend during those two months in Styria… He had gathered it was not good.

And yet…

Hector was a complicated man, it seemed. One that Isaac often could not make sense of.

Now the mage was getting out a small box. He had taken to having some bandages around, as well as some herbs. It seemed reasonable, Isaac had to agree. So he just watched Hector, as he put a kettle of water over the fireplace.

Only now he noticed the chess board standing on the table, the pieces moved along. “You are training?” He noted with a smirk.

“I am,” Hector muttered. He seemed disgruntled about this somehow. “Can't let you beat me all the time, can I?”

“I see.” Quite frankly, the game was but an excuse to talk to the man in a somewhat social context. Because Hector would tend to hole himself up with his books otherwise. Well, there was one person he had taken to talking to: The vampire mage who had worked for Carmilla once. Well, and that mage girl, who was now living in the castle that once had belonged to Dracula – Sypha. Though, really, with both of them it was the same. Hector would just talk about the ins and outs of magic. And… that seemed to be it, really.

By now the water was boiling, as Hector poured it over some herbs, before getting over to him, apparently expecting something.

“What is it?” Isaac asked.

This question seemed to annoy him a bit. “I can't take care of your wounds if you don't undress.”

This seemed obvious. With a sigh Isaac stripped of his long shirt, as the other man sat beside him. He eyed those little scratches covering his chest, as well as the bruises, that already started to show. “How often have you fought her?”

Isaac shrugged. “Maybe eight times.” And he had lost every single one.

Hector just shook his head. He dabbed a bit of cotton fabric in the herbal mixture and started to clean out the scratches. “You should get some snow from outside for the bruises,” he muttered.

“Maybe.”

“You normally are not that careless.”

“I would not say it was careless,” Isaac replied. “I need to train one way or the other. Because otherwise…”

“You are a king for now,” Hector said. “For better or worse. You mostly need to project power – that does not mean you need to be able to face any challenge by yourself.”

Was Isaac imagining it or was there worry in Hector's voice? The man did not look directly at him, was still busy with those wounds of his.

With a sigh Isaac had to admit that Hector was probably right. He did not have to be the one fighting every single problem by himself. Aside from the night creatures there were now humans and vampires, too, who would fight for this country. He wanted those people to be independent, to be capable on their own. After all he did not plan to be king forever. It was just… “Old habits die hard,” he muttered.

Hector chuckled. Once more he dabbed the fabric in the liquid, before brushing it over Isaac's temple, for once looking directly at him.

There really was worry in his expression. It did not show much, but he was worried. What a strange thought. They were friends, Isaac reminded himself. It was only natural for him to be worried – because people worried about their friends. It just seemed so strange that someone was worried about him specifically.

Because, in the end, nobody had ever worried about him, right?

Except, of course, that was not right. Dracula had worried about him. Otherwise, he would not have thrown him through that mirror to save his life.

Maybe his thought showed on his face, as Hector looked at him in confusion. “What is it?”

But Isaac shook his head. “It's just… That I don't think someone has ever taken care of me like this before.”

Hector paused at this, frowned. “I am sorry,” he muttered. “I…” He pulled back his hand, but without thinking Isaac caught it.

“It's alright,” he assured. “What I wanted to say is: Thank you.”

Once again the other man evaded his gaze. “It's fine. I…” He turned away from him, his gaze now drifting over to the chess board. “I… Care for another game?”

Fifth Game

Hector was at times oblivious to what the people around him wanted. Still, he was aware that Isaac was making an effort to understand him. He was not that oblivious after all, it seemed. Recently the man had started to ask him to join him on different occasions. Not formal occasions – which Hector had participated in for the last two years now – but private occasions. Mostly those games of chess.

Hector was getting better though. He still lost most games, but he was starting to get the hang of planning ahead and seeing through the other man's plans in return.

Even though he did understand that those games really were not about the game at all, but about talking and spending time. And maybe, just maybe, Hector started to like it.

He had never liked to spend time with other people. Other people seemed to be constantly draining him, seemed to drain his energy after some time. It took so much attentiveness to understand them, to read those layers of meaning they burdened him with.

That had been why he had liked to spend time with Lenore. She had been direct. She had just spelled the things out – well, the things she wanted him to believe. She had lied a lot, of course. But still, she had told him directly, had not hidden the meaning.

Maybe Isaac was catching onto this as well. He had started to become more direct – and in a strange way that made it easier to handle him.

Hector still did not quite understand him, though. There were things he just did not understand. His urge to fight was one of them. By now he had patched the guy up three times, because he had challenged Striga again. And there was the self-mutilation.

He knew Isaac had done it even during his time in Dracula's court. Isaac had also told him, he had stopped doing it after Dracula had saved him. But maybe old habits really did die hard, as he had long started doing it again. Hector had seen it several times. The man stripped down to his trousers and in a state like deep meditation, whipping himself until he was bleeding.

Hector could not help but feel worried about it. Not about his mental state – they both were probably not the best in that regard – but his physical health. Those wounds – though superficial – could get infected. He also had to wonder, though, how Isaac managed to keep this upright posture, even though his back was a mess.

The man was very good in hiding his ailments. Like an animal, Hector thought – maybe because it was the only way for him to understand those things. But animals were the same. Not showing wounds, not showing weakness in fear they were going to be hunted down for them.

Maybe his urge to take care of the man came from the same place.

***

It was another late evening and another game of chess. Isaac was leaning back on the sofa opposite Hector, as he was pondering his next move.

For once Hector had managed to take one of his knights. By now he was well aware that Isaac build much of his strategy around those two figures. He also had put Isaac's king in check with his own bishop – leading to the pause.

“You really are getting better,” Isaac admitted, before finally moving his rock into the defense – a position that was backed up by a pawn really to take the bishop should Hector try and attack.

“I am trying,” Hector muttered. He dared to sneak a gaze at the man, who noticed it and smiled.

At some time during those last few weeks his smile had turned easier when they were alone. Less guarded. Hector could not say if the same was true for him. He often forgot to smile in general.

Looking at the board, he carefully moved one of his pawns forward, taunting Isaac's other knight. Of course, he would not take the bait, it was too obvious.

“Indeed you are.” Isaac was resting his elbows on his knees, now leaning forward to surveil the board. “Indeed you are.” After a moment, he moved his own bishop – the one that was remaining – forward. “Check.”

Hector had not seen that opening of his. After a moment of hesitation, he once again moved a pawn to be in the path of the bishop. “Can I ask you something?”

The other man seemed surprised, but then nodded. “Of course.”

“The whipping,” Hector muttered, unsure whether he was taking this a step to far. “Why do you do it?”

With a long sigh Isaac settled against the back of the sofa, without moving one of his pieces. He paused. “To pray. To meditate,” he finally said.

“That I know,” Hector said. “But…” He pursed his lips, as he was searching for the right words. While he was no believer himself, he was in no position to question Isaac's faith. It was just… “I have seen other people praying – and they… Well… I mean… They… They don't.”

“That is true,” Isaac replied. He, too, was pausing. “It gives me a sense of control. I can control the pain that I feel. That's why.”

Hector was not quite sure he understood it, but he felt unsure looking at him, so he focused on the board again.

Thankfully Isaac understood, finally moving a piece – his remaining knight. “Can I ask you something as well?”

“You will do either way, won't you?” Trying to give his voice some humor, Hector moved another pawn.

“You know you don't need to answer, right?”

“I know,” Hector muttered – and yet he felt compelled to.

“Why did you follow Dracula?”

An inadvertent chuckle escaped Hector. This was, in fact, something they had never spoken about, was it? Even after all the time… Once more he pursed his lips, as he was considering his answer. “Because humans do bad things. They are often cruel. I have known many cruel humans. And I thought that with the right amount of control, that cruelty could be prevented or at least dampened.” He stared at the board without really seeing it. “I was naïve, really. I was a child. I thought I knew better than everyone around me.” That sounded wrong. He shook his head. “Maybe I did in some regard.” Another pause. “When Dracula came to me, it was what he promised. No. Not quite. It was what I understood and he never tried to correct me.”

Isaac waited for him to add something, but when he didn't he finally made his next move. “We were both children,” he said, as he had said many times before. “What was it, that the humans did to you?”

Hector shrugged. “Many stupid little things. My parents hated me. Other people feared me. Some people tried to kill me. I was a child when I started forging. I think it was what the people feared.”

“Why did you start?”

Another chuckle, though it was mostly a nervous one. “Is this an interrogation?”

“No, it's honest interest,” Isaac replied.

Hector shook his head. “I wanted a pet. That was all. Well, no… I wanted a friend. I did not have any of those. So… I revived dead animals I found.”

“Old habits die hard,” Isaac muttered, before he could stop himself.

“Indeed.” Slowly and deliberately he moved another pawn into position to take Isaac's rock. “You were in the firm believe that all of humanity had to die. Including you and me. So… What made you hate humans so much that you wanted to see each and everyone of them dead?”

Isaac did not reply to this at first. He moved another piece and for a moment Hector thought he would not answer at all. But then, Hector looked at him. “It is a rather sad story.”

Unsure what to answer to this, Hector just tried to hold his gaze.

“I grew up without a father, because he had left my mother. Then people came from Europe, plundering my homeland. They killed my mother and took me to work.” Isaac was speaking without much emotion, his voice flat and neutral. “At some point I could not take it anymore. I killed the man who owned me. I escaped. I took to learning magic, to not end in this situation ever again.” He shook his head. “And yet those foolish humans would again and again…” Now there was more than a hint of bitterness in his words. He shook his head. “When I first met Dracula, he saved me, did you know that?”

“I did not,” Hector muttered. He was not sure how to parse all those words. People taking him. That meant, he had been enslaved, right? As a child. That seemed cruel. Crueler than the simple neglect and beatings Hector had experienced.

“He saved me,” Isaac muttered. “I promised him my loyalty for it. He… He was the first person I had met who looked at me and saw an equal, not someone lower than him.” He scoffed. “Can you believe that? A man like him…”

The irony was, that Hector could well believe it. When he had originally met Dracula, the man had been respectful to him. He had an appreciation for the magic, he had wielded. And the specialized knowledge he had collected. Before his wife had been killed, Dracula had had this way about him… He had seen people's talents, maybe. Something like that.

After his wife had been killed, though, he had seen nothing. He had been so blinded by rage…

“Revenge is for children,” Isaac had said after he had killed Carmilla. By that logic Dracula had been the most childish of them all. Swearing revenge on an entire species for the acts of but a few.

“It's still your turn,” Isaac said after a while, making Hector jerk up.

“I am sorry,” he muttered and focused on the chess board once more. “I am just…” He shook his head and once more did look at the other man. “I did not know.”

“Of course you didn't,” Isaac answered. “I did not tell you. Dracula was the only one to ever know.”

Finally, Hector moved another piece, before looking at the other man. Considering all of that, well, he was surprisingly… what? By his senses, maybe. He was surprisingly sane. And still. For the first time Hector did feel a strange sensation, when looking at him. Maybe it was pity. Maybe… He did not know. He did not really know.

A Game not Played

Maybe this training was fairly useless. It probably was. As while Isaac was starting to become quite adapt in predicting Striga's tactics, this did not do him any good if it was to fight against any other vampire. And even using his knife – of course – he was still much weaker on a simple, physical level. As long as their fighting remained strictly non-lethal, she could easily shake him off.

And while he had become adapt in predicting her attacks, it did not stop her from feinting and then attacking him from behind. He could feel her claws against his throat and could almost sense her grin.

“I am wondering,” she said, “why do you trust me like this?”

It was a valid question. There was no reason for him to trust her. If she and Morana had been in Styria, when he attacked, he would've certainly tried to kill them, too. The only reason to keep them around was, that he was still not accustomed to ruling – and having them back him up made things easier.

“I guess I bank on your curiosity,” he replied.

She let go of him. “My curiosity?” She had raised one of her eyebrows in amusement.

“You want to see how all of this is panning out. Otherwise you'd have long killed me either way.” He had killed Carmilla after all, who had been much like a sister to them. And Lenore, well, the vampire girl had died due to his actions as well, hadn't she?

Striga thought about this for a moment. “You might not be wrong.”

Unsure what to say to this he just smiled a careful smile before going over to the side of the hall that had once been used to train vampire troops, it seemed. In those two years since he had taken over the land, he had learned one thing: In one way or another he needed to trust people. Because people could not be good if they were not given a chance. The same was true for vampires, it seemed.

It had become easier, though, with the years. And be it just for the simple reason that he had seen, how people could actually make the right decisions. Humans were not as faulty as he had once believed.

“Do you want to go another round?” Striga asked, but he shook his head.

Frankly, he had the feeling that while she had made no effort to actually gravely wound him, she did enjoy beating him up. “Not for today.” He had already collected a few new scratches and bruises.

He could feel her watching him. A human instinct to sense the eyes of a predator.

“So, you are going to your boyfriend to get patched up again?” she teased, making him only sigh.

“Hector is not my boyfriend.”

She laughed at this, coming over to pat him on the shoulder. “One has to wonder though: Why?”

In irritation he looked at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You are dense,” she said. “You both are.” With that she pulled over her proper shirt, before going over to the gates of the hall without any other word.

***

Isaac was not dense. He really was not. It was just, that he had never considered love to be for him. He had fallen in love, of course. With men. With powerful men, who could never see him as an equal. And he had been fine with it. Because in the end, love was another thing that was for children. Nothing more. Right?

Of course he understood what Striga was saying – but he had not considered all of it this way. Could it be that he had fallen in love with Hector? He was unsure. There were feelings, yes, but love?

Even if it was so… Why would Hector love him? While the man was capable of love – he was sure of it… He had loved this vampire, hadn't he? Lenore. Why would he love another man?

And yet Isaac found that his feet carried him to Hector's chambers. Mostly because if anything Striga was right about one thing: Hector was the one patching him up after they had their sparing matches. He paused in front of the door for a moment, trying to evade those thoughts that were now invading his mind. Then he knocked.

It did not take long for Hector to open the door. There was a fire burning in the heath, as well as a candle on his desk. He looked Isaac over. “Got beaten up again?” There was a bit of humor in his voice.

“Something like that, yes,” Isaac admitted.

He entered the room, when Hector stepped aside, set down on the sofa and stripped of the long tunic.

There was also the fact, that Hector was indeed the first person in his life, who had ever cared enough to tend to him this way. Isaac was fine with the fact that nobody had done so before, but he had to admit that it did feel nice.

“You seem to be in a mood today,” Hector observed.

Isaac looked up at him. “In a mood?”

“You seem rather gloomy.”

“I am…” Isaac shook his head. “Not gloomy. I am just… thinking.”

For a moment Hector watched him, before he started with what had to become routine by now. “So…” He sat down by Isaac's side. “What are you thinking about?”

It was not exactly something he could talk about, was it?

Once again he looked at the other man, who for once held his gaze. There was worry in his eyes. He was, indeed, worried about him. Ironic. It was ironic, wasn't it?

“I am just…” He sighed. For once it was him, who could not bear looking at Hector this way.

He had seen him as a friend – which was strange enough, after everything. And he had found that his original instinct had not been wrong: Hector was loyal. But then again: So was Isaac, wasn't he? It was him, who would've willingly given his life for Dracula.

The mixture Hector was using to clean his wounds burned ever so slightly. But it did not bother him.

He sighed. “I loved Dracula,” he said, making Hector pause in his movement.

“What?”

“I loved Dracula,” Isaac repeated. “Honestly. I loved him.”

Hector frowned as he was watching him. “Romantically?”

Isaac shrugged. “I think so.”

To this Hector did not know any reply. He just continued cleaning those wounds. “Have you ever told him?”

“No. Why would I? It would not have changed a thing.”

“Maybe…” Hector sighed. “Why are you telling me that?”

“I don't know.” He really did not. It might've been just because he had never spoken those words out loud.

“Huh.” Once more Hector just continued with his work, pondering what he had been told.

There was silence between the two, making the cracking sound of the fire so much more noticeable. Isaac did not dare to look at the other man, as he still tried to get rid of those thoughts Striga had now planted in his mind. One thing he had to admit: It felt good to be worried about. He would not have guessed, but, yeah, it felt good.

Love was a strange thing, wasn't it? It made people do the strangest things. The entire tragedy three years ago… It had all started with love, hadn't it? It had started when Dracula had fallen in love with a human woman.

He had to think of what Hector had said. About the humanity of vampires. Maybe this was, more than anything, testament to it. Dracula had amassed so much power, so much knowledge, but in the end all of that had meant nothing to him. In the end it all had been about love.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

Hector lowered his hand and sighed. “I don't know,” he muttered. “I don't…” Slowly he shook his head. “I think I loved Lenore, but… It was naive. I was naïve. And to her I was…” He stopped.

“I am sorry, she died,” Isaac said, now forcing himself to look at the man.

“It's not your fault,” Hector replied. “It was her decision. She…” He just shook his head again and sighed.

“We are silly men, aren't we?”

Hector chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Maybe we are.” Again he looked at Isaac. “What has brought you in this reflective mood?”

“Just something Striga said,” Isaac replied. “I…” He turned towards the other man, wondering. There was no doubt, that he was feeling something, but he could not quite make sense of it. Was this feeling love? Because it was different, from what he had felt before. Different from what he had felt for Dracula – or, for that matter, for the man who had once owned him.

The truth was, that he had no proper reference for love. He had spent most of his live alone. Unloved. And he had been fine with it. He had told himself, that love was not a real thing, that it was a stupid human fancy. A human thing, while he had seen himself apart from humanity.

But he was human, wasn't he? And he could love. He just…

His hand moved basically on his own, as he was not even sure where it was going. In the end it paused in Hector's cheek, while Hector looked confused – but did not pull back.

He was warm. So warm. Alive.

It was stupid, really. It was. Because even if this strange feeling might be a form of love, it was preposterous to believe that it was requited. How did one even go about such a thing? Isaac had never kissed another person. He had only ever once dared to tell someone he loved them – and had been met with a bloody beating.

“Isaac?” Hector asked.

“I don't know,” Isaac said. “I…” Why would he say something? Because even if he did, it would just make things strange and awkward and…

He wanted to lower his hand, as Hector stopped him. His breath was shaky, but he held Isaac's hand in his own. In silence he looked at the hand, as if trying to understand the touch. “It's alright,” he whispered. “It's alright. I think.” Once more he raised his gaze, before mirroring the gesture, putting his hand onto Isaac's cheek. There was insecurity in his gaze, as he leaned his forehead against Isaac's.

Maybe they were both bad in understanding – themselves and others. But Isaac had to admit that this touch… it felt good. It felt good to be touched like this. He was still not sure what he was feeling, but he decided that he might like it. Letting his finger's run through Hector's ashen hair, he closed his eyes.

Yeah. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

Zitat von Sunaki

Ja, gerade wenn man bedenkt wo er zuerst gelandet ist, muss es doch eine starke Wetterveränderung gewesen sein.

Aber schwarzer religiöser Mann findet ein Zuhause im tiefen Norden und versucht die Welt um ihn herum zu verbessern, dass erinnert mich doch an jemanden.

Vor allem ist er halt eben auch da unten aus der Ecke kommt. Ich meine, wir wissen technisch nicht genau woher, aber seine Kleidung in Staffeln 3 und 4 ist zumindest aus der Ecke Marokko gewesen. (Finde es ja noch immer sehr schade. Es gab mal ein Design von Greta in Nordafrikanischer Kleidung.)

Zitat von Sunaki

Ich fände es eher überraschend dass sie zurück gingen. Nach Carmillas Tod und die Ungewissheit on Isaac wort hält, eher ein seltsamer Move.

Na ja, sagen wir es so: da gibt es eine ganze Geschichte mit 55 Kapiteln mit einer Menge Charakterentwicklung für die Damen xD Meine NaNoWriMo Geschichte ist ja so ein...Sequel zur Serie.XD

Zitat von Sunaki

Natürlich, gut gedacht.

Ist auch canon. Also es wird nie ausgesprochen, aber visuell gezeigt. Während andere Alkohol trinken, trinkt er immer nur wasser.

Zitat von Sunaki

Soll das implizieren dass Isaac wie ein Vampir denkt?

Er denkt vor allem von sich selbst nicht als ein Mensch - und hat eine gewisse distanz vom Denken her. Er identifiziert sich definitiv mehr mit Vampiren als mit Menschen.

Zitat von Sunaki

Das kenne ich, ist nicht ganz verschieden in Videospielen. Spielt man gegen einen Spieler dey viel unerfahrener ist, oder einen Boss welche*r viel zu wenig Schaden macht, wird man gerne schlampig. Man opfert Spielsteine eher, oder weicht seltener aus, und kommt oft zu ähnlichen Resultaten als wenn man gegen jemanden spielt welche*r einen tatsächlich in die Ecke drängt.

Ja, halt das. Und irgendwie habe ich festgestellt, dass ich sehr gerne Schachspiele schreibe xD

Zitat von Sunaki

Ich bin nicht sicher, ob du in Richtung Romanze gehst, aber die beiden haben definitiv Probleme einander als Freunde anzusehen. Beide sind recht antisozial alles in allem.

Ja, durchaus. Ich denke dass die beiden technisch gesehen sehr gut zueinander passen, von ihren Charaktertypen her. Und weil sie natürlich auch beide sehr... Ja, nun einmal gleich traumatisiert und neurodivers sind.

Zitat von Sunaki

Sehr gute Beschreibung eines Introvertierten.

Vor allem autistisch. Ich lese Hector als sehr autistisch. (Isaac übrigens als Borderliner)

Zitat von Sunaki

Ich kann mir kaum vorstellen Isaac regelmäßig lächeln zu sehen, oder ihn öfters lächeln zu sehen als andere.

Ich denke, er endet die Serie auf einer sehr positiven Note. Von allen Charakteren ist er der eine, der am Ende sein Trauma konfrontiert hat und sich halt der Zukunft zuwendet.

So. Es ist December. Und während ich Bastet prompts für deren Fluffcember gegeben habe, habe ich mir auch welche rausgesucht :D Oder eher Leute ein wenig Lotto spielen lassen! :D

Außerdem gibt es auf tumblr die 12 Days in Winter Whumperland Challenge - also mache ich da auch mit. *rollt einmal über die Tastatur*

Also... Für diesen Monat gibt es jeden Tag einen Post!

Fluffcember Day 1: An New Friend (Castlevania)

Prompt: Gift Giving

The boy was a quiet one. He was curious and intelligent, but very quiet. Most of the time he would be perfectly happy to sit in his room and read a book or maybe play with those stuffed animals Lisa had made for him. Other times he would just sit in the laboratory and watch them work, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Maybe it should not surprise Vlad to hear Lisa sighing, after bringing Adrian to bed.

“Do you think he is unhappy?” she muttered, as she changed into her night gown.

Vlad looked up from his books. “What do you mean?”

“He does not have any friends his age,” she replied. “And I am just wondering…” She shook her head as she sat down on the side of the bed. “I know that we need to keep him safe. I am just wondering…”

Vlad thought about it. The boy was three and a half years old by now. Though he was aging quicker than human children, bringing his appearance and demeanor to the level of maybe a five-years-old human child. At least that was, what Lisa was saying. It was not like Vlad had a lot of experience with human children. The one daughter he had that half-millennium ago, the human child, had died when she had been just three years old.

When he visited human settlements by night children would tend to sleep. So, no, he really did not know what was to be expected from a human child. Even less he knew what to expect from a dhampir-child. While he had met dhampirs before, all of them had been of the few who had reached adulthood.

“I honestly don't know,” he murmured, as he pulled his wife close. “Maybe…” He was not really sure.

It really was funny, he thought to himself. After all those things he had learned in his long life, he was completely unprepared for any of this.

***

Vlad watched the boy closer in the coming days. As it was deep winter, they spent most of their time inside. As he and Lisa were working in the laboratory, the boy would often sit in a corner and just read or watch them. He did not ask any questions in that case, but he seemed to listen to what they were speaking. How much of it was he already understanding?

When they were spending their evenings in the sitting room the boy would at times have two of his stuffed animals – a horse and a bear – with him. Sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, he would act out different scenarios with those animals.

This evening the bear was lying down, as the horse came over and patted its head. “You are very sick,” the boy murmured. “But don't you worry. I know just what to do.”

So the boy really was listening to what they were speaking about in the laboratory? Listening to the child, Vlad heard him muttering about medications and about symptoms. Softly he nudged his wife, nodding in the direction of their son. A smile snuck onto her face, as she realized what Adrian was doing.

“He is an intelligent boy,” she muttered.

“Yes.” Vlad could not help but wonder. They had already taught the boy reading and some basic mathematics, even though he was still fairly young. The boy was also quite proficient in reading Latin as well. But was it right to teach him all of that already?

He really did not know.

Still, when it was him bringing the boy to bed that evening, he could not help but watch him in silence.

Adrian was still sleeping in that little room in the tower they had prepared for him. There were several stuffed animals sharing his bed with him, while he squinted at his father from tired eyes. “Is something wrong, father?” he asked, as he was stifling a yawn.

With a sad smile Vlad sat down by the side of the bed. “I was just wondering something…”

“What is it?” The child looked at him questioningly.

“Do you feel lonely?”

At this Adrian frowned. “I am not lonely. I have mother and you, don't I?”

“Yes, but…” Vlad stopped himself. Maybe he and Lisa were overly worried. Maybe telling the boy would just get him to feel bad. So he shook his head, carefully brushing his fingers through Adrian's long locks. “It's nothing, really.” He wanted to get up, as the child grabbed his hand.

He smiled shyly, looking at him. “Would you read me a story, maybe?”

For a moment Vlad wanted to protest. The boy could read on his own after all. But he also knew Lisa would often read to him, so a smiled. “Sure.”

***

Even with all things said and done, Vlad was not sure how to deal with his son. He wanted only the best for him, but it was so hard to make out what “the best” would be. There were so many stories of dhampir-children being killed by both vampires and humans. And while most vampires feared him too much to try a thing like that, the same could not be said for the stupid, stupid humans. There were no vampires in Adrian's age and humans – they were too dangerous.

It was the winter solstice soon and he had taken to carve a few figures from wood for his son. He did not even know whether the child could do something like that. What was it children played? Lisa had told him, little boys might reenact battles from stories in their play, but Vlad's own childhood had long been forgotten. He just wanted the child to be happy.

Lisa knew this, as he could see in her smile, when he left for the hunt. “Don't worry too much,” she said, as if she had not been the one to bring the topic up in the first place.

He took her hand, softly kissing it. “I don't,” he lied before leaving.

Whenever he was hunting he moved the castle close to a city, where it was easier to find some humans on the street and a four people with marks on their necks might not turn into a huge story.

It was stupid, really. But ever since Lisa had found him, he had not emptied a human, even though it was so much more convenient than this long and bothersome way of hunting.

Still, it was a big city filled to the brim with humans. Humans, who would get drunk in the evening, staggering alone down the city streets and making for easy prey. It did not take him long to find two of them, as he headed for the red-light district, that so often made for good hunting grounds.

He did never arrive there, though, as a truly pitiful sound stopped him in his steps.

He should not care, really. It was a big city, after all, and big cities were always filled with dying creatures – both human and animal. But something about the long whine he heard just made him stop.

It really should not matter, he thought to himself, and yet halted and looked into the narrow alleyway from which he had heard the sound. There it was again. A long whine. A dog, no doubt.

For a moment he hesitated. Dogs were everywhere humans went. They were helpful, guarding them, helping with herding sheep and other animals, at times helping hunt, too. But they were also cherished friends, were they not? A friend…

It did not take him long to find the pitiful creature. A mutt – not much more than a pup – with dirty fur and infested eyes. Its breathing was labored, as if it was already close to death. A lost cause, Vlad thought, but just as he turned to go, the creature fought itself into an upright position, rubbing its head against his leg.

At this he sighed, lifting up the tiny creature. While he had not learned as much about animal physiology as about the human one, it did not take him long to figure out what was wrong. The animal had an infection in its upper respiratory system. The infection heaving spread to the eyes – and probably the ears as well.

It was hard to tell where its mother was. Maybe killed. Maybe she had not accepted the pup. Maybe the humans had thrown the poor creature out.

Vlad was not sure if the animal would make it. But maybe… Just maybe it was worth a try.

***

Infections in animals were similarly threated, as they were in humans. As long as they were bacterial a strong antibiotic would clear it out. Some chamomile helped to clear the eye infection, while peppermint and salt-water helped to clean the nose. Five days later and the puppy was already running and yupping around Vlad's and Lisa's legs.

Annoying, really.

Still, they picked up the so far nameless creature in the early afternoon – the time Adrian would usually wake. And yes, a part of Vlad was quite curious how the boy would react.

It might not be a human friend, not another child. But at least…

Adrian was already up, sitting on his bed reading, when they entered. The sun was already setting, though thankfully the curtains were drawn. Lowering his book as his parents entered, he smiled at them. “Good morning, mo-“ He stopped as he saw the creature, that looked really quite tiny against Vlad's giant stature.

The puppy was as enthusiastic as any puppy could be. Its tail was wagging as it was looking around with interest.

And the smile on Adrian's face was genuine. He looked at his parents questioningly, before standing up. “Who…” he started, stretching one hand towards the little dog. “Who might you be?”

“He does not have a name yet,” Lisa replied with a smile. “We thought you might want to give him one.”

The boy looked from one parent to the other. “Are you certain?”

Vlad crouched down to be at least somewhat close to eye level with his son. “Yes. We are.” He handed him the dog, who immediately went on to licking the boy's face.

Adrian meanwhile looked at the dog as if he was the most precious thing in the world. “Lyudmiel,” he muttered. “I think I might call you Lyudmiel.”

Winter Whumperland Day 1: Returning Nightmares (Castlevania)

He had not been there, when his mother had been killed and yet in his dreams he so often was. Standing there, among a crowd, seeing her burn, the fire first blistering her skin, burning her hair and searing away that simple linen dress, before gnawing on her flesh. She would scream much longer than he knew people to scream during burnings like that. It was not the worst part about it, though. The worst part was, that he could only stand there and watch, himself unable to move, unable to stop them, unable to save her. He would just watch, utterly paralyzed with it.

At times he would wake at this point, but he did not this time. Instead, once more seeing his father arriving at the castle. He heard himself speak those words once more: “I will grieve with you, but I won't let you commit genocide.” As his father turned, the man Adrian had known for his entire life was gone. There was no loving father anymore, no man who would look at him with pride. There was only burning rage and a cold, cold hatred. As Adrian drew his sword, his father was already there, punching him, throwing him to the ground. And Adrian's heart was faltering. He knew he should command his sword to defend him, should get back up, but as he looked in this face that had been there for his entire life he could not. He screamed, when his father's claws buried themselves into his chest, when he realized that his father really was going to kill him.

It was this pain, that woke him. He opened his eyes, trembling. Sweat covered his face, even though it was a fairly chilly night. He took a few deep breaths, once his mind finally returned to the presence. It had been almost seven years ago. His father was dead. He had survived. He had a family of his own by now. Two wonderful humans sleeping by his side. A young child in a crib.

Rain was splattering against the window, as it was a stormy autumn night.

He had forgotten about one person sharing the bed tonight. “Papi?”

As he turned to the side he found Marie, who had been sleeping between Trevor and him. Right. As so often during nights like this, she had been unable to sleep, awoken by the thunderstorm earlier this night, fleeing to her parents’ bed.

“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” he whispered. He laid down again, turning to her. Softly he caressed her rosy cheeks. “I just had a bad dream.”

The six-year-old looked at him with a serious gaze. “I know bad dreams,” she said, as if he did not know it. After all bad dreams were the second most common reason for her to flee to their bed. He smiled softly.

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered seriously, just as they would often offer it to her.

Mirroring his gesture, her little hands carefully put a strand of his hair behind his pointy ears.

He hesitated. She was still too young to hear about what had happened before she was born. She did not need to know more than she did already about the time his father tried to extinguish humanity from the face of the planet. Neither did she need to know that his mother had been burned as a witch. She knew that something bad had happened, of course. There were enough other children and youngsters in the village who had lost family to Dracula's attack. But she had never learned that the mad vampire king was her own grandfather. At least in spirit.

“I dreamt of the time my mother died,” he hence replied, not elaborating. “That's all.”

She took that in, her expression still ridiculously serious. “You miss her, right?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“I am sure that one day you will see her again,” she then decided with a smile, her hand now resting on his cheek.

He chuckled. Ah, maybe she was right of course. He supposed that even though he was immortal there would come a day when he would die as well. Killed in battle, probably. At some point even he would die. “You are probably right.”

There was a grunt behind Marie, as Trevor opened his eyes. “What are you two talking about in the middle of the bloody night?”

“Papi had had a nightmare,” Marie replied.

“Had he now?” Trevor looked at Adrian questioningly. There was instant worry in his gaze, making Adrian sigh.

“It's alright,” he replied. “I am alright.”

Trevor sighed, doing just the same as his daughter had before: Combing some loose hairs from Adrian's face behind his ear. “Tell me if it isn't, okay?”

“You know I will.” Careful to not squish Marie between the two of them, he leaned his forehead against Trevor's, for a moment just soaking in this familiar touch. The closeness. He was not alone. Even with his parents gone, he wasn't alone.

Being held by this man was always a balm on his soul. And somehow Sypha was still sleeping to all of this – as was little Simon.

Marie was the first one to yawn again. She closed her eyes, cuddling up to Adrian as she did. “Wake me, if you have another nightmare, will you, papi?”

“Of course I will,” he whispered, putting one arm around her.

He looked at Trevor once more, who smiled at him.

Because despite everything… Things had turned out alright. The nightmares might never go away, just as those other little things and insecurities would stay. But he was alright. He had a family, people that loved him. He was going to be alright.

Und dann habe ich doch verpennt die anderen Sachen hochzuladen. Nun ja, egal. Hier wäre der komplette Fluffcember.

Okay, dann teile ich heute mal zwei Geschichten, die ich zu meinem Post-Canon Styria geschrieben habe.

A Game Of Nard

Morana found him working in his study. Not a surprise. He was diligent of course. Which she could acknowledge, without liking the man.

She would not like the man. For once he was only that: a man. A human man. A tiny, unimportant little human. And he had killed her sister. He had killed Carmilla. It was his fault that everything had gone so entirely wrong.

Yet, she supposed being back in the castle again was a good thing. She hated to admit it, because she hated to admit that his offer had been a good one. She hated to admit that she was here, having a somewhat livable life again, because of his – what? Mercy? It had been his fault they had spent two years as mercenaries in the first place.

He looked up, sensing her presence. Smiled.

That much she had gotten out of their own little forgemaster. This man once did not use to smile. Yet, it seemed only natural for him to do it now. Well, he had gotten everything he ever could've wanted.

“What can I do for you, Morana?” he asked, clearly already having seen the board she was carrying.

“Humor me.” She put it down, unfolding it.

She had promised to help him. Help this man, who had killed her sister. Because he was not fit to rule. Not really.

Not much of a surprise, was it? Humans made for bad rulers. Her people had always known that. Not that it had stopped their empire from vanishing. But they had known.

“Nard?” He clearly recognized the game, as she was sorting the pieces. Black from white.

“Humor me,” she said again and again he smiled.

“Sure.” He took the white pieces, sorting them to the first spike on his side of the board, looking at her. “Can I run some thoughts by you, while we play?”

She looked at him, shrugging. “I can't stop you, can I?”

He chuckled. “You could. You could just rip out my throat, I suppose.”

But at this she shook her head. “You could beat Carmilla. You can beat me. I am not a fighter.” She could sense his emotional state, though. Calm. Surprisingly calm. He was not mistrustful. Other than Hector he had not even been so in Vienna. Something she could not make sense of, no matter how hard she tried. Was he stupid?

No, she knew he wasn't. So why would he be silly enough to trust them?

He had been training with Striga, too. Had been training with her, knowing fully well she could kill him and make it look like an accident.

She took her own pieces. The black pieces. Putting them into her corner.

“Do we roll or does white start?” he asked.

“We roll,” she replied, taking up one of the two dice.

He took the other one. And they rolled. She rolled five. He three. So, she was the one to start. Taking both the dice now, she rolled once more. Two and three. So she moved the first two pieces.

“We will start trading with Bavaria, come spring,” the self-proclaimed king said, making her nod, while he took the dice from her.

He rolled, too. Two and Five. Moving his own pieces along.

“I would like to try and establish some relations with Italy, though.”

“They will be psyched,” she muttered. She had not been there. In Rome. During the battle. But she had seen the fall out. The fires. Yeah, she doubted the Italians were so happy with them. Especially with them vanishing first sunlight.

“They are weak. We can help. Also Venezia is its own state, right?”

“Right,” she confirmed.

Venezia had been under vampire control for more than 200 years – but that had been several human lifetimes ago. Because it always had turned out that Carmilla's base instinct was right. A vampire kingdom was better ruled, if it was isolated from the human realms around. Those Venetian vampires, they had been rich. But they also had suffered from human wars and grievances. While they – Morana and her sisters – had thrived in their little world apart from the rest of the planet.

She rolled. One and four.

“So, I thought we could make contact, try to establish trading routes,” he continued.

And she was going to help him, wasn't she? Because it had been, what she had promised. As he rolled again, she looked at him. “Why do you care?”

“Because the people here, they deserve some security. Trade will allow for that. Right now, we are just one bad harvest away from famine.”

Interesting. Even speaking about that she could not sense ill intent from him. Though he had to have found out about the famines, right? Because he was right, of course. There had been those years with bad harvests. In which their human population had starved. Because there had been no way for them to import. Sure, some of their vampire soldiers had stolen from the next kingdoms – but still. Thousands had died. And something like that had happened a couple of times.

Thankfully humans bred like little bunnies, their population quickly returning to old states.

“But why do you care?” she asked, as she rolled again.

“What do you mean?”

Moving her pieces, she looked at him. “You did not come here to save the people, did you?”

It surprised him. More than seeing it on his face, she could sense it in his emotions. A basic surprise, as he looked at her.

“It is more complicated than that,” he admitted, as he took the dice from her.

“So, why?”

He moved his pieces in silence, the first one already reaching the end of his side. “Do you know how I survived the attack on Dracula's castle?”

It was not a thought that had ever crossed her mind. But sure, she knew from Carmilla what had happened. The baseline of it. The two forgemasters had been working for Dracula. There had been an attack – those three kids living in that castle now. They had left Carmilla and Hector stranded in Braila. And Isaac. Well, he obviously had survived. But that was all she knew. She raised one eyebrow. “I don't.”

Once more she was rolling, moving the pieces, as he leaned back.

“Dracula saved my life.”

“How so?” She handed him the dice. She had now one piece on the end of her side as well. Making this game a lot more interesting now.

“There was a transmission mirror. He threw me through it, before his son reached him.” She chuckled. “He landed me in the middle of the Sahara, almost killing me with it.”

“Why?”

“I don't know.” Now he was thinking, as his three did not allow him to move a piece to her side. So he moved some of his pieces at the beginning spike again. “I still wonder to this day.”

“It still does not answer my question. Why do you care about these people?” She rolled, now. Being able to push one of her pieces onto his side, while he was silent.

“I…” He licked his lip. “When I was out there in the desert, I only knew one thing: Dracula had died and it was the fault of Hector – and Carmilla. At least that was what I thought. Of course, in the end nothing they did had made much of a difference, had it now? Those three would have transported the castle either way. So…” He shook his head, taking the dice again. “And, you see… In my life – a short life compared to yours, of course – Dracula had been one of the few people to ever show me kindness. So I was loyal. And I wanted revenge for his death. But it was a long journey. From the Sahara to Styria, that is. And I had… time. Time to reconsider things.” With the four, he rolled, he pushed one piece onto her side.

She scoffed. “How is that supposed to explain anything?”

“It actually explains a lot,” he said. “Because for the first time in my life, I realized something.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me.” She took the dice from him, rolling once more. Why was she even doing this? Listening to him. He was just a human. A human less than 30 years of age. There was nothing much, he could tell her. He could not even imagine her age. She was older than his darn religion.

“I found, that I never once had been truly free.”

“Free?” She looked at the dice. Two threes. She could push one of his pieces back with that.

“Free,” he confirmed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Will me saying anything stop you from doing so?”

“It would,” he promised.

She scoffed once again. “Ask away.”

“Where do you originate from?”

“Karia,” she replied. “A smaller Persian kingdom.”

He thought on it for a while, as he rolled the dice once more. “I have read some books from there. Magic. And vampires living with humans.”

“No,” she said. “Vampires ruling over humans. Because you are too inapt to rule yourselves.”

Now he was looking at her again, before nodding. “Fine.” He once more moved two of his pieces along - one landing on top of the one he had already pushed to her side. “See, I originated from a place named Maghreb. But we were not of the people. My mother and I. We were travelers. Scholars. Doctors. Well, she was, of course. Not I. She wanted to help people. But she died.” Even though he showed nothing of it on his face, there was just a tint of pain within his emotions. This little piece of guilt for himself to survive. “And I… I was taken. As a slave.” This memory, too, she could see in his emotions. A darkness she rarely found inside of humans. “I escaped. But it seemed the world did not want me to be free.” He handed her the dice.

“Why are you even telling me this?” she muttered, rolling again. “What has it to do with anything?”

“Everything,” he replied. “It has everything to do with it.” He watched, as she moved along her pieces. Putting a second one onto his side. Then took the dice and rolled. Six and four. “Because while I was travelling I realized another thing. The fact that I never truly have been free after it. I was about ten or eleven when I escaped and I never once was free. I was always looking for someone to tell me what to do, had not once considered thinking for myself.” He moved another piece to her side, while using the four to move one of his starting pieces.

“And when you realized that, you what?” She rolled. One and five. “You decided to still come here and kill my sister?”

“No. I took weeks to think on it,” he replied. “But then I came to a realization.”

“A realization?” She grunted. Moving two of her starting pieces, to block him from advancing on her side, she just looked at him. Once more his emotions were calm.

“I realized that it is true for most people. They do not know freedom. Not true freedom at least.”

Another scoff escaped her. “True freedom? What is that even supposed to mean?”

“Most people live in a world, where everything is out of their control. The rules are made by kings, whose faces they don't know. And a good part of their work gets taken from them from some sovereign, who they did not choose. They have children, because they need hands to work. And they go and pray every day, because it is the only thing they know to do.”

“You are praying every day.”

“I do,” he just replied. Once more he took the dice. “And the rules they are following, that are not made by some blind kings, they are made by the church. They proclaim it to be in the bible – but is isn't, is it? Half of the things they say have never been said in there. There is nothing in there off burning witches on the stake and fighting religious wars. It is all the decisions made by some people high up in the church, mostly for their own gain.” As he was moving his pieces, she groaned.

“Great. So, you had this realization. Congratulation. Now what?”

“Now I decided that the world would be better, if humans could be free. But for that, they needed to be educated. They also needed to live in a society, that could meet their basic needs. Foot. Water. A place to life. Medicine, even.”

“So? Why kill my sister?”

He handed her the dice, watching her roll. “Because I realized that the people in Styria were not free. They were maybe the least free people around, given that you held them as literal livestock.”

“So?”

“I also realized, that they were the least likely to have loyalties to their current rulers. They don't even had access to religion.”

Slowly she understood where this was going. The human population of Styria was a blank slate, compared to the world outside. Because they had been living so isolated from everyone else, that they… had no loyalties. Because it was nothing they had ever cared about.

Lenore had been talking about it, of course. About just being kind enough to them, to earn their loyalty. That it could benefit them. A loyal Populus. But Carmilla would not have it. Neither did Morana. They were only humans, after all. Stupid little petty humans. Who were so useless in a fight against their vampire forces.

“So… It was nothing but convenient,” she muttered, now staring at the pieces.

“Mostly.” He sighed. “Admittedly I also realized that Hector, too, deserved his freedom. And that I did care about it enough to come here out of all places.”

She chuckled, moving her pieces, now having three of them on the same spike on his side. “How kind of you.”

“The world wasn't fair to him,” he replied. “As it isn't to many people. And I do wish to change that.” There it was. That glistening in his eyes. A glistening she knew too well. She had seen it in the speaker girl as well.

An idealist. A dreamer. Just like Carmilla had been. Only not half her worth. Because he was just a human.

“And so you killed my sister, to make yourself king,” she finally reasoned.

“I killed her, because she was not to be reasoned with,” he replied. “Simple as that.”

She sighed, looking at the board, where it was not yet obvious, who of them would win. After all neither of them moved a single piece till the end. “I see,” she muttered, handing him those dice again.

Understanding

Warning: Das Thema Vergewaltigung wird in der Geschichte angesprochen, jedoch nicht beschrieben.

Isaac did not understand.

He literally was unable to understand a word his capturers said. They spoke the language of the people in the North. At least that was how Isaac had always thought of it. The other boys meanwhile, they were like him. Most speaking Arabic and yet being beaten anytime they were.

The entire days would be the same, as they were dragged along behind the horses. Those men had put collars around their necks, were dragging them along like animals. And Isaac did not understand.

Someone yelled a command at him. A command he did not understand either. He winced and whimpered as the whip met with his nude back and could only guess that they wanted him to speed up his pace. He did not even know where they were headed, but his feed was long bloody and wounded from the long march over badly contained roads.

When the night finally fell and they were taking a break, he saw one of the other boys crying. Legs pulled up to his body, the boy was crying. He was a bit older than Isaac. Maybe ten years of age. But they were all still kids. They had only taken kids. Kids like him, who had nowhere to run to.

One of the men, who were wearing the sign of their God on their robes – a red cross – was coming over to them. With some grumbled words, he put down two loafs of bread to be shared between the eight of them. It was all they ever got. Bread. Dry bread and water.

Isaac had thought about running. He was good with his hands. He would be able to get out of these chains and then he could run. But he did not know where. Because he had no idea where they were.

They had long left his home behind. The people in the lands they were crossing here, were sickly pale, their skin the color of sour milk. Just like those men. Those men, who were now sitting around the color, talking in their foreign language, laughing, drinking. The stew they had been making from two hunted hares was thick and smelled good – especially after not eating anything but bread for so long.

Isaac did not understand this, either. They were wearing the sign of their God on their clothes – and yet they were indulging like this. Drinking. Eating well. And… they would do other things, too. They had been at whorehouses whenever they were dragged through a city. And on evenings like this…

It started when the men were drunk. One of them looked over to the boys, slurring his strange language. And all of them knew what it meant. The men were laughing with each other, joking about it no doubt. Then one of them got up, went over to them. It was the oldest of the boys he would take first. He would grab the chain and pull him up, while the boy – Amir was his name – would look at them through fearful eyes. Amir would not cry. He never cried he said. And yet there was desperation in his eyes, while the men dragged him away from the group.

Isaac tried to not listen. He tried to ignore it. Tried to ignore the screams and the lustful grunts of the men. He covered his ears, closed his eyes. Because he did not understand. He did not understand any of this. Only three months ago he had been travelling with his mother - who was now dead. And Isaac was taken. And he did not know where, only knew that it would be bad, that these men…

Someone grabbed his chain, slurring some words to him. He was pulled up, the collar digging painfully into the skin of his neck.

There was lust in the eyes of this man – one of those pale-faced, bearded men – as well. His breath stinking of alcohol so badly.

“No,” Isaac whispered in the only language he knew how to speak. “No.”

But he also knew that they understood him as little as he understood them. He knew as well, that they would not even care about his protest, even if they understood him. He landed hard on the ground, when the flat of a hand met his face, felt the shoe meeting his stomach as well, before the men dragged him on the chain. Dragged him and…

“Isaac.” The voice cutting through the haze was soft and familiar. It was something he understood. Someone had their hand on his shoulders, as Isaac blinked, opening his eyes to a room shining in a soft red light. “Isaac.” It was Hector leaning over him, his face so full of worry.

“What is it?” Isaac asked. “What… Is everything alright?”

“I wanted to ask the same thing.” Hector's hand was soft on his cheek, brushing away tears that Isaac had not realized were there. Only slowly he realized that he had been dreaming. Well, this strange kind of dream where the memories would haunt you. At times bleeding into each other so far, that it was hard to tell, what had happened and what was just made up.

He rolled onto his side, nestling up to Hector, who understood this perfectly well. He put his arms around Isaac, allowing him to calm down, to sort his thoughts.

The truth was, that he did not really remember what had happened on the long way that had taken him from the Ottoman Empire to Italy. He remembered bits and pieces. Being chained. Being beaten. Being raped. He was unsure how often each of those things had happened. Because during that trip days had bled into each other, had been slowly taken away any sense of actually following them. He had not dared to escape. Not after one of the other boys did and was killed after it. They had beheaded him. This was one thing Isaac remembered all-too vividly.

It was so long ago. More than 20 years by now. But he doubted he would ever be able to completely forget the feeling of fear and shame that had haunted him those days.

“What was it about?” Hector asked after a while. “That nightmare, I mean.”

Isaac sighed. Long. Tired.

The sun was only now rising, so given that it was summer it could not be long past six in the morning. Meaning he had only slept maybe four hours so far. He was still so tired. “About the march. About the march to Italy.”

Hector knew about it. By now he knew. By now they both knew each other's stories. And thus Hector would not ask questions, his fingers instead soothingly caressing the back of Isaac's head. “I see.”

This was familiar by now. Lying here together and just… knowing the other was there. Knowing they would do just this. Holding each other.

They were so much alike, the two of them. Both having those nightmares that would wake them at times. Isaac would cry. Hector wouldn't. He wouldn't cry, said he was incapable of doing so. Isaac believed him. Not everybody cried. He had forbidden himself from doing so for so long. Because if the world had only seen this little bit of weakness…

“At times I wonder,” Hector whispered.

“Wonder what?”

“What… would have happened if all those little tragedies had not played out. If…” He stopped, skuttling away for just enough to look Isaac in the eyes. “I wonder what I would be like, if my parents had not been horrible. I wonder what you would be like, if you had not been taken.”

It was not as if Isaac had not imagined such a world. Especially when he had been just a kid hiding away in the countryside. Back then he had often woken from dreams as well. But those days he had dreamt of being with his mother, sharing his night quarters with her, being soothed into sleeping by her voice telling him old stories of her people. In those days he had still remembered what her voice had sounded like, what her face had looked like. Nowadays he could not say. He only knew she had black hair and the headscarf she like to wear had been blue with golden trimming. But her face? The more he tried to remember, the blurrier it became.

“We would not be the same people,” he just concluded. “I… would probably travel, just like my mother had done. I might be a doctor, just like her. And you…”

“An alchemist, probably. Just a normal alchemist, making money off of potions.” Hector chuckled without any humor. “We would've never met.”

And given the circumstances under which they had met, it might have been a good thing. “I wonder, too,” Isaac whispered. “How things would've turned out if they had not killed her. His wife.” He did not need to say the name for Hector to understand. “Do you think he would really have helped the people?”

“He might have,” Hector said. “I think he might have.”

History was a complicated matter, wasn't it? Because once you looked just close enough, there was no definite answer to the question of right and wrong, of good and bad. In Isaac's entire life the church in Rome had been a force of bad things, of horrible things happening. They had been responsible for the attack that killed his mother. They had been the ones paying the men, who took him and dragged him to Europe as a slave. And they, of course, also had been the ones to kill her – Lisa, Dracula's wife. It would be so easy to just blame them on the tragedy that had followed. But that was wrong, too. Because each and every one of them had made their decision. Dracula had decided to take revenge not by destroying the church, but by trying to kill each and every last human. Isaac had happily decided to join him. It had been their decisions. It would be easy to blame them for his decision, too. After all it was by their decisions that he had become so bitter that he had considered genocide to be an actual good thing. But it was not that easy, was it? Because in the end he still had made that decision.

But in the end, of course, there was the fact that he was trying to do good now. To archive good. And that, for maybe the first time since the day his mother died, he was actually feeling good about the way his life was going.

He carefully pressed a kiss onto Hector's lips. “Maybe there was a reason, though. For everything to play out like this.” Even with all the horrible things that happened. Both the things he had done and that had been done to him.

There was a faint smile on Hector's face. “That is how everybody tries to make sense of their misery.”

Isaac chuckled. He put his forehead against Hector's. “I… am actually not trying to make sense of the misery. I am trying to make sense of everything still having a… somewhat happy ending.”

“Well, I guess…” Once more Hector's hand was running over Isaac's scalp. “It did.”

So in the end Isaac closed his eyes, now hiding his face in the arch of Hector's neck, just how he liked to do. “We still should get a few hours of sleep.”

“We probably should.” Hector put his arms around his shoulders once more.

“Thank you for waking me.”

“Of course.”

And while the sun was rising over the alps in the east, they were just lying there, slowly drifting back to a hopefully dreamless sleep.

Komm, dann mache ich den Rekommi einfach mal direkt, bevor ich es wieder für ewig vergesse. Da ich gerade eh darauf warte, dass mein Essen kocht, passt es ja xDDD

Zitat von Il Dottore

Ich hab jetzt doch mal ein bisschen im Wiki gestöbert (ich frage mich, ob ich das noch bereuen werde, haha) ... Hector und Isaac scheinen zumindest Charaktere aus Castlevania zu sein. Und ich finde es aus den paar Sätzen, die ich gelesen habe, faszinierend das sie anscheinend gar nicht mal unbedingt so gut zueinander stehen (?).

Okay, lass mich kurz hier ausholen, bevor ich auf den rest antworte.

Die Variationen von Hector und Isaac, die wir in der Serie haben, haben sehr sehr wenig mit ihren Spielecounterparts zu tun. Vor allem bei Isaac, der einfach ein komplett anderer Charakter ist - was eine gute Sache ist, wie ich anmerken möchte, weil Spiel!Isaac einfach nur ein nerviger, mies geschriebener Charakter ist xD

tl;dr Fassung von ihrer Geschichte in der Serie:

Es sei dazu gesagt, dass in den Castlevania-Spielen gefühlt die hälfte aller Charaktere durch in den Kühlschrank gestopfte Frauen motiviert sind. Also durch den Tod von ihren etwaigen Freundinnen, Verlobten oder Ehefrauen. Das... Hat die Castlevania-Serie geändert. Dracula ist dadurch motiviert, ja, aber sonst wirklich niemand. Allgemein hat die Serie halt auch eine riesige Menge an weiblichen Charakteren dazu eingeführt. Was in meinen Augen eine gute Sache ist :D (Vielleicht sollte ich mal Striga/Morana Geschichten posten :D)

Zitat von Il Dottore

Ich habe dein neues Update gesehen und wollte unbedingt einen Kommi dalassen.

Das freut mich natürlich immer sehr <3

Zitat von Il Dottore

First of all: Leider habe ich bislang Castlevania noch nicht gesehen, auch wenn das schon seit Monaten auf meiner Liste steht (ich bin so faul, wenn es ums Serien-/Anime-/Filmeschauen geht, oof. Schrecklich tbh).

Ich kann halt wirklich nur sagen: Die Serie ist überraschend gut - also überraschend, weil ich nun wirklich nicht damit gerechnet habe. Der Fluch der Videospielverfilmungen. xD Und sie ist mit ihren 32 Folgen auch eigentlich recht schnell geschaut. Selbst wenn wir später dieses Jahr dann Nocturne bekommen. Und ich fast fürchte, dass Nocturne genau denselben Antagonisten verwendet, den ich für The Lesser Evil verwende xD

Zitat von Il Dottore

Bin ja sowieso im Generellen ein kleiner Fan von Hurt/Comfort und Angst Story's. Ehrlich gesagt weiß ich gar nicht mal so sehr warum.

Ich wurde ja von jemandem auf meinem Fanfic-Server dazu angestiftet mehr Hurt/Comfort zu schreiben. Werde am Ende des Monats auch meinen "Whumpuary" posten. Habe für Januar nämlich 10 jeweils 1000 Wörter lange Geschichten zu Castlevania geschrieben, die sehr, sehr whump sind. <3 (Und sogar Fandomblind Freundlich, da diese vor dem Canon spielen). Und ja, ich gebe ganz offen zu, dass Castlevania da einfach super geeignet ist, weil die Serie so drauf ist: "Weißt du, was diese Charaktere mehr brauchen? TRAUMA!"

Zitat von Il Dottore

allerdings spricht es schon für sich, wenn ich selbst ohne diese Informationen recht beeindruckt von deinen beiden neusten Werken bin. Ngl, richtig gut geschrieben.

Zitat von Il Dottore

Nicht nur, dass du unglaublich gut die Emotionen rüberbringen konntest, sondern auch wirkt das gesamte Werk bzw. die Unterhaltung sehr real. Greifbar. Und in Anbetracht der Tatsache, dass es um ein doch sehr schweres Thema geht, finde ich das beeindruckend. Viele Hobbyautoren tun sich schwer, ernste Themen wie zB Vergewaltigung mit in ihre Werke aufzunehmen, weil man einfach nie so ganz weiß "wie" und "was ist okay zu schreiben und was sollte man lassen?" etc.

Ich gebe offen zu, dass ich jetzt mit den Fanfics angefangen habe, das Thema halt deutlich mehr auch aus verschiedenen Gesichtspunkten zu behandeln - gerade da Castlevania etwas tut, was normal nicht passiert: Es behandelt sexuelles Trauma bei Männern. Zwei Männer werden im Canon vergewaltigt und bei zumindest zwei weiteren Männern - unter anderem auch Isaac - ist die Implikation halt da, wenn du ihre Geschichten zu Ende bedenkst. Technisch gesehen sei auch dazu gesagt, dass Carmillas Geschichte massiv von sexuellem Trauma geprägt wird, aber dies wird nie in der Serie visualisiert. Was ich nach wie vor echt gut finde.

Ich meine, allgemein ist Hector der Charakter, mit dem ich mich am meisten identifiziere. Weil sein Trauma meinem sehr ähnlich ist. (Und er autistisch ist.) Aber ich finde es halt auch faszinierend, wie in der Serie wirklich alle Charaktere unterschiedliche Reaktionen auf ihr Trauma zeigen. Und ich genieße es halt gerade irgendwo Hector und Isaac zu schreiben, weil Isaac halt daraus gelernt hat, dass er keine Schwäche zeigen darf. Und halt damit erst lernen muss sich einer anderen Person gegenüber zu öffnen.

Zitat von Il Dottore

Ich glaube, ohne Scheiß, deine Werke animieren mich immer mehr meinen faulen Hintern hochzubekommen und endlich mal Castlevania zu gucken. Like damn. Einfach damit ich noch effektiver deine Werke in Zukunft kommentieren kann (oder welche aus der Vergangenheit, hehe). Weil ich mag wie gesagt deinen Schreibstil.

Würde mich natürlich sehr freuen ^^

So, diese Geschichte poste ich dann aber mal direkt, bevor ich es ganz vergesse xD

Ich habe mir gedacht, ich mache jetzt eine ganze kleine Reihe aus der Steiermark-Klamotte. Aka mit jedem Zweier-Gespann einmal eine Geschichte. Dieses Mal sind dann Striga und Hector dran. Und während alle immer gerne Striga einfach nur als Mördermaschine darstellen... Ist sie bei mir der eine Vampir (über den ich schreibe) mit komplett eigener Philosophie. lol

Of Loyal Dogs and Scaredy Cats

Striga was not surprised to find him here. She had found him here before. In the stables. She wasn't entirely sure whether he was just enjoying the company of the animals or actually did look after them, because whenever she got here, he vanished out the other door. He was still fairly tense around her and Morana and she assumed, that he had a right to be. Even without having asked about it, he knew that inviting them back here had been first and foremost Isaac's decision, done for political reasons.

The two of them were different, of course. Isaac very level-headed, very focused on his goals. And Hector… Well, he seemed to be a soft soul. Somebody who had gotten dragged into Dracula's mess for some reasons she could not entirely understand. He was caring. Caring about life in a way that she would not expect from someone who took part in a genocide.

Then again, he was mostly caring about animal life. Taking care of the pigs and chicken and the horses as well.

Now he noticed her. Like a startled cat, he jumped up from his chair, looking at her a moment too long. He realized he had to say something, but he wasn't entirely sure what.

She took that burden from him, going over to the bay in front of which he had been sitting. Clucking her tongue, she got the horse's attention. The mare turned to her, recognizing her and then nuzzling her hand.

“How far is she along?” she asked the forgemaster, as if she could not tell herself.

“I think she is already having contractions,” he said. And he had clearly come prepared, having taken a little lamp along, clearly to spent whatever time it took and make sure everything was alright. So, she had been correct: He was caring.

She smiled, turning to the black mare, running her hair through the mane. “How are you, Morel?” she whispered in her mother tongue.

Admittedly she had not assumed to find all her horses still alive, when she returned. While she had not been entirely sure what might happen to them—well, night creatures needed to feed and horses just seemed like a good source of meat, no?

The black mare was now four years old. Her fur was shaggy and it was rather obvious that she was not a pure breed. But she had always been a rather calm horse. Not a battle horse, as she would freak out over the smell of blood, but a calm horse, good for riding, who would not mind pulling a wagon if need would arise.

Morel softly breathed against Striga's face, while Striga could tell the human was right. The water had already broken. She could smell it. But the birth of a foal might take anything from half an hour to several hours. Like human birth, she assumed. Tickling Morel between the nostrils, Striga finally turned to the human again.

“So, you were planning on spending the night?”

“I—" The man evaded her gaze. He was tense, insecurity speaking from his stance. “I wanted to make sure she was alright,” he mumbled.

“Thank you.”

This caught him by surprise, looking at her for just a moment. He did not answer to it. His mind was clearly wandering and wondering. A part of him wanted to just leave, but another part wanted to stay for the horse.

They were back here for eight months now—but she had to assume that everything that had happened now almost three years ago did leave an impression and not a good one at that.

Isaac was the easier one of the two to deal with. He was confident and at times did not seem to know fear. For no good reason at all, he trusted her, trusted Morana, too, even though he had to sense her murderous intentions. Hector, though… He was more passive. More held back. She knew from Isaac and had heard the same from Lenore back in the day as well, that he never truly had a desire to extinguish the human race. Rather than wanting to cull them. Humans in cages, instead of dead ones. She had to wonder though, whether he was truly so naive or had, in the end, just not cared enough to see the thousands they were killing.

She could not help a smirk, as she moved and he jerked again. “I won't bite.”

Another stare, then he tried for a dry laugh. “Funny.”

“I won't though. I don't think your boyfriend will think too fondly of that.”

“Well, good to know that there is at least one reason to keep me alive.” It was another thing about him, though. He was more introverted and a lot more mistrustful towards them. But he also had a sharp sense of sarcasm.

Morel gave a short neigh, prancing around in her bay.

“It's alright, my sweetheart,” Striga purred once more speaking her mother tongue, as she always did with the horses. “It's alright.” She clucked her tongue again, though she had to do so a second time, to get the horse to turn her way again.

Just a little bit of white sac was showing at Morel’s vulva, but it still might take a while.

“You have looked after the horses the entire time?” Striga now asked the man.

“I… I did. Though Wolfgang did, too.”

She had to chuckle over that. Wolfgang was one of the many vampire soldiers. Just a young man who had been turned for exactly that reason. To be a soldier. To fight. Just as most vampires were. Just as she had been as well. But he wasn't a fighter. Having been some sort of farmhand before, the man was mostly good with animals and just keeping things in order. Having some sort of speech impediment, he kept away from other people most of the time, just lurking in the shadows of stables to look after creatures. “I see.”

Carmilla and Lenore, they both had threated Hector like a dog, like a puppy. Making fun of him that way. Because he had been loyal. Well, they had thought that at least. Loyal like a dog. But they had been wrong about it. In a way. He never had truly been loyal, had he now? Not to Dracula, most certainly not to them. And the way he tensed up, almost ready to jump, it reminded her more of a kitten. His sarcasm, too. While, for certain, animals did not speak, she associated sarcasm more with cats than dogs.

“What…” He started and stopped right away. “I mean…”

She understood him, without more words: ‘What are you doing here?’ he wanted to ask.

“These are my horses,” she said. “Morel is my horse.” As if to agree with this, Morel huffed, though she lay down onto the side just a moment later.

He looked at Striga, then the horse, finally daring to step just close enough to look into the bay as well. Clearly worried about the horse.

Maybe this really was a pity. A miscalculation for certain. If Carmilla had not mistreated him the way she had done, they might actually have had an ally in the boy—man. Like an actual ally. Someone loyal for loyalties sake. A loyal dog, instead of a scaredy cat.

He had already aligned with the original plan, no? The plan of culling the humans. But she assumed that Carmilla would just not have trusted it. Because he was a man, of course. And Carmilla just had been able to trust those. Not even her soldiers. Not even… Well, nobody, really.

A thought seemed to cross his mind, bringing a dry smile onto his face. “So… Horses are like… Your hobby?”

She laughed at this. “I guess.”

“I… kinda always imagined you just living to fight.” He was still not looking at her.

Her gaze, too, was directed at Morel, whose hooves were struggling in the air as she was so clearly trying to find a good position to give birth in. “Well, horses are good allies in war. The best allies to wish for. They will save your life. Will keep you alive.” She smiled. “But… They are wonderful creatures, no? Strong. Fierce. I like that.”

At this he sighed. “Yeah.” He was looking at Morel. “I… I like that, too. I like animals. They are… honest.”

“Honest?” She raised an eyebrow. She had certainly heard a lot of descriptions of animals in her life. But “honest” was not one of them.

“Yes,” he said, watching Morel, who was shifting her weight while just a hint of a hoof appeared at her backside. “Animals they don't lie. They don't manipulate you. Unlike humans.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Or vampires.”

She thought about this for a moment. She had a good idea of the vampires lying and manipulating him, though she had to wonder what his experiences with the humans had been. “Oh, there was a dog once. Living here. He was a master manipulator. He noticed how he would get more food and more attention if he was ill. So, he played it up. A real good actor. All whining and weak in his little bed.”

“How do you know he wasn’t sick for real?”

“Because he would be fine enough if he did not get the attention he wanted soon,” she said.

“What happened to him?”

“Well, he died, no? You humans have pitifully short lives and creatures like dogs? Ten years, maybe twelve. Just the blink of an eye.” There was of course the fact that the dog in question had in fact not survived, because at some point its acting and manipulation had enraged Carmilla—and if Carmilla was angry once… But he did not need to know that. He was a soft soul.

The dog—she did not even remember the name to be honest—had been Lenore’s of course. Because she had been a soft soul as well. One that wanted to care for things. For animals specifically. She had been barely more than a kid, when she had been turned, of course. But Striga knew she would've died otherwise.

It was, in the end, what had bound them together, the four of them. Those bad things haunting them in their dreams.

Bad things that had affected each of them in a different way, but mostly all four of them had grown cold. Some colder than others. It came with being a vampire, she assumed. Because vampires were cold. In more than one sense. At times she still remembered it. Being human. Even though it was almost half a millennium ago. She did not really remember the faces of her siblings, but she remembered that she had had them. Five younger siblings, she had cared for after their parents had died. She also remembered that her maker had killed them. Because he had wanted her cold.

She rarely had ever met another vampire not like that. Not cold. Not frozen on the inside. Well, there was one. No, two in fact, though she had only ever liked one of them. From all she knew, both were dead now. So maybe being warm would only get you an early death.

Morel was neighing again, now pushing herself up onto her hooves again, nervously prancing in her bay.

“It's alright, Morel, sweetheart,” Striga purred. Though she knew better than to go in there into the bay. It would only stress the mare out more than she already was. No. As long as there was no excessive amount of blood or any other sign, that things were going wrong, they had to stay outside. Even though a part of her wanted to be in there, hold her mare's head and soothe her like that.

“Most vampires,” Hector suddenly said. “Most vampires are not getting very old, are they?”

She shot him a side glance and sighed. “No, they aren't.”

“I've talked to some of the soldiers, you know? Rüdiger… He said most did not survive the first ten years.”

“Most don't even survive the very first year,” she replied and sighed. “In places like this, they do. A secure place. A safe place. But outside of…” She shook her head, because the security offered here right now seemed too fragile for her taste. Though he was of course right. Even under vampire rule, most vampires had not survived those first ten years. “It takes a while for powers to develop,” she said.

“I know.”

“Of course, you know.” She watched him from the corner of her eye. Then she sighed.

Morel was still prancing and she supposed the two of them just standing in front of the bay like predators did not help. While the mare did know them both, that did not overwrite instincts, right? So, she sat down, sitting on the ground with her back to the bay door. She drew one leg up to her body, resting her arms on it and watching the man instead.

He clearly did have much the same instinct the mare had. Not liking a predator watching him. So, he took his stool, drew it to the other side of the hallway before sitting down.

The flame inside the lantern was flickering, letting their shadows dance across the stable walls. The air was heavy with the smell of hay, horse manure and wet walls. And the bit of water and blood Striga could smell from Morel.

Now the man crossed his arms only to uncross them a moment later. He massaged the stump of his left ring finger, the finger he had cut of in the past to get free.

Even now, three years later, there was still a cold anger burning inside of Morana. Striga knew that. But it might have been, too, that out of the four of them… Well, Carmilla had been the one inspiring them, but Morana had always held them together. Striga loved her just as much as she hated to see that all-consuming sadness in her eyes. She knew that the cold anger and hatred were the way to deal with it. It was just that she, herself, had found that it did not really help.

Back then. That half-millennium ago, she had killed him. The man who had killed her human siblings. She had murdered him. And it had not dampened the pain, even though that situation had been so much easier. Her siblings had been just human kids. The oldest being seventeen. The killing of them had been an act of evil.

Of course, she had loved Carmilla. But she also knew that for all those 400 years Carmilla had only ever been just a smidge away from insanity. Back when Carmilla still had Laura, it had been easier. But Laura, too, had died. Because the cruel truth was that nobody, not even vampires, lived forever.

It was a miracle that Morana had lived as long as she did. Because it seemed for most of those who survived those first ten years, they would expire in the following half-millennia. If they were not killed in battle—and so many were killed in battle—they would choose the sun or stop feeding and dwindle away.

Now she noticed that the boy—man—was watching her. Those greyish-green eyes carefully exploring her face. She did not look at him directly. Because, in the end, a scaredy cat did not like to be looked at. He was moving his hands in a rather nervous fashion, his thumb of the right hand massaging the palm of the left. She wasn't certain, if it was to sooth a pain or just something to keep his fingers busy.

He was naive. Of course, he was naive. He had fallen for Carmilla and he had fallen for Lenore. He had fallen for Dracula, too. He had fallen for a lot of people, who were now dead, it seemed.

He wasn't stupid, though. Not stupid enough to not notice that she again and again looking at him from the corner of her eyes. He gave a sullen grunt. “What?”

“I am just wondering things,” she replied.

A sigh, that was in fact a stifled groan. “Fine,” he then muttered. “Just ask.”

“How did Dracula get you to follow him?”

“By lying,” he just said. “I… I just… I wanted humans to be controlled."

“Yes, that part I do know.”

“Then why do you ask?”

“I want to know what it was. Even if you believed Dracula was culling humans, you had to know he was killing thousands, no?”

Now he looked into a corner, where the shadows were still dancing. His spine caved in just a bit, as he sighed again. “Yeah.”

“So, why did you want to go along with it?”

He was silent at this. Because he was not as easy about it, as Isaac was, was he? Isaac had at least one mark of a king. He liked to talk about his philosophy and plans. He knew he had done wrong, but he did not outright regret it. A feeling she could sympathize with. After all she knew, on an intellectual level, that it could probably be considered wrong to kill humans in the way they had done for centuries—and yet she could not bring herself to regret it. Humans killed each other all the time—and Isaac was the best example of it.

And while she did not outright feel empathy with Isaac, she could at least understand his motivation, too. On an intellectual level.

Hector meanwhile? Well, he was a big question mark, wasn't he? Because to this day, she did not know a lot about him.

Like her he could feel that silence between them growing in the dark. So, he drew in a deep breath. “I met the wrong humans,” he finally replied. “Too many of them. They were not good to me.” His gaze drifted to his hand and his missing finger. “And also… I thought I just knew better than anyone else around.”

“You don't think so any longer?”

He shook his head. Slowly and deliberately. “I don't. I was stupid. I was naive. I—I was human, I guess.”

“If it is any condolence to you, a lot of vampires make a lot of stupid and naive decisions all the time.”

The noise he now made, was somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “Is that so?”

“It is,” she replied. “Or what would you call Dracula's decision to kill the world? Or Carmilla's, for that matter, to rule it all?”

“Maniacal.” This answer came without thinking.

“Not stupid?”

He hesitated. “No. Not stupid. Just… Made through emotion, not thought.”

“I do consider that stupid, no?” She chuckled.

“Maybe.” He sighed. “Maybe…”

“You see, we vampires are mostly one thing: vain. We think ourselves as wise and evolved and we are. But at the same time, most of us are soldiers. And I really mean most.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“We are waging constant wars. If not against the humans, then against each other—or the wolves. Only few of us ever really get to enjoy the perks of being immortal. Accumulating knowledge. Learning. Creating.”

“Like humans.”

“Hmm?”

“Most humans never get to do it. Learning, I mean. Creating. They just live to see the next day and then the next one and then the next. Because they are owned by some other humans, who are owned by others in return. They—”

He stopped, as Morel was neighing again, making him stand up to look into the bay again.

Striga didn't. She could smell it. More of the water breaking out. Could hear it, too. But so far it just was not quite there yet.

“I was made to be a soldier, too, you know?”

He looked at her, clearly unsure what to say.

“And I was a soldier for more than forty years before I got here.”

“And then?”

“Then I killed my maker, just as Carmilla had killed hers.” She shrugged. “And we ruled for 400 years, until ‘King’ Isaac came.”

He stood there, staring into the bay, before sighing again to return to his stool. “Do you hate him? Isaac?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I find hate a wasted effort of emotion. My hate of him would not bring Carmilla back. Or Lenore. Just as Dracula's hatred did not bring back his wife, no?”

He slowly nodded. “I guess.”

“So… Really, what would it be for? No. I don't hate. Not anymore. You are a scrunchy, squishable human, though.”

“I guess,” he just repeated his words from before. Then he took a deep sigh, his gaze once more drifting over to the corner of dancing shadows.

He was now resting the weight of his torso against his knees, leaning forward like this. His breath was slow, but even. There was another soft sigh, as one thought or another had crossed his mind.

Then, suddenly, she heard something. That light squishing sound she had heard quite a few times before. Just as Morel was up and prancing again.

There was a new breath. A new being breathing in the world's air for the first time. She waved him over, before getting up, easily pushing her feet beneath herself.

And indeed, there it was. Still covered in the thin sac and the fur still wet lay a single foal, still so very confused about its new surroundings. It was looking around, managing to put its own head up. The eyes were dark and alert, the ears moving ever so slightly.

Morel was already with it. Her head down, as she was nuzzling bits of tissue from its head.

As the boy—man—was standing there, something like a smile crossed his lips. A soft smile, actually reaching his eyes.

“Everything seems to be alright,” he muttered.

“Things most often are.” She chuckled, patting his back.

He jerked, still, making her chuckle once more. Just a little scaredy cat.