Chapter Text
Alucard spends the rest of the night on the floor in their chambers.
Try as they did, Sypha and Trevor couldn’t manage to coax him up to the bed with them. They’d even offered to sleep on the floor instead- but he’d outrightly refused.
This would have to be completely on his terms. His way. His pace.
It was a step in the right direction- but it couldn’t have been a comfortable one for Alucard.
After he’d eventually regained some semblance of his own self back that night, he hadn’t spoken much to either of them. He’d essentially just curled up at the foot of their bed like a cat and stayed there until morning...
Trevor was, frankly, at a bit of a loss on what to do. He was- and never would be a ‘feelings’ person- nor did he believe that words spoke louder than actions...
But that seemed to be the only thing that could remedy this… this obvious rift between the three of them.
Now that the surmisation of their dreaded feelings were out, floating above their heads like a cloud of confusion- it seemed that all that could be done was talk and feel.
...Ugh.
Trevor’s eyes open before his brain truly wanted to wake up.
After the ordeal during the night- he’d hoped the sun would be a bit higher in the sky before he greeted another dreaded day.
Alas, God had it in for him once more- and the hunter didn’t necessarily blame him. The big guy was practically out of a job with Trevor around. Heh.
The soft sounds of Sypha snoring and the subtle shifting below the bed frame indicates to him that he is the only one up at this point. Trevor didn’t know whether to count his blessings or his faults. He just knew that he didn’t want to lie here for much longer.
He didn’t want to think for much longer either.
He wanted to do something. He wanted to move. He needed to alleviate some of this weird tension built up from within him.
Trevor rises from his position and takes note of his other two companions.
Avoiding the elephant (or vampire) in the room was all too easy when Sypha slept like the dead and Alucard technically was.
-Well… half dead at least?
He didn’t want to ask...
Trevor quite easily manages to evacuate the area without rousing either of them.
Cooking was one of many life skills that Trevor had neglected to learn when he was younger.
It wasn’t because he was some absolute fucking nob that thought it was women’s work- no, it was because he’d had servants that had done it for him…
...And then he hadn’t.
After that, he’d had more pressing issues to concern himself with- like not being fucking killed.
So whenever he had food, he threw it on fire and made sure it wouldn’t poison him before he bit into it. He didn’t care about taste.
-And when he had money he spent it on ale instead because it kept him warmer and it shut his mind up.
Thus, when he rumbles into the kitchen with a bedhead and a yawn- he finds himself a little at odds with what he’s about to do.
There are dried plants in glass casings all lined up on a small wooden shelf before him- labelled neatly with scrawling handwriting. Cinnamon, Ginger, Clove … Trevor raises his eyebrows. Alucard had accrued quite a collection. Many of these spices were near impossible to get within Wallachia...
...Or had it been his mother who had started all of this? Had she owned a herb garden when she was still alive?
It made sense since she was a doctor… But had Dracula really allowed for that in his castle?
Trevor shook away his speculations. Thinking was the thing he was trying to get away from, after all...
He eyes a small pile of parchment resting on the side of the countertop. Momentarily, he thinks he ought to leave it alone...
But if it was really something so personal and secretive, would it be left out in the open like this?
The pages are all sewn lightly together with yarn to keep them separating from one another, and they are all different shapes and colours- indicating they were written at different increments of time. They’re stiff to the touch and slightly yellowed. They were old. Not super old- but older than if Alucard were to have written them within his stay.
As Trevor looks closer, he sees the handwriting matches that of the labels on the glass bottles. So this was Alucard’s mother’s as well?
He squinted at the lettering, trying to make out the words. Trevor wasn’t the greatest at reading at the best of times but cursive was a new level of hell entirely-
...Oh.
It was a small book of recipes, it seemed.
Alucard’s mother must have written it a while ago. He was probably following off of it to make his food while he and Sypha were gone.
Trevor frowns.
At least this was a start. A sad one. But one nevertheless.
The little book of recipes makes Trevor mildly emotional and he doesn’t quite know why.
The pages are filled with shoehorned notes and loving adjustments to make them just right. There are little comments underneath some of the ingredients like, ‘leave Anchovies out on the side for Adrian,’ and ‘don’t forget to make the spice a bit milder or Adrian will start sneezing.’
It’s so horrifically endearing that it chokes Trevor up.
It’s downright humiliating.
In the end, he decides that a modest breakfast of bread and cheese would be good enough for the three of them.
Trevor simply did not want to stand around a stream looking for herring at this hour.
...Besides, he’d always kind of loathed eating fish so early in the morning.
He finds some kind of bread dough recipe in the book and tries to follow it as best as he can. It lies in the back of all the parchment pieces- so Trevor assumes it is both the oldest- and the most tried and true.
As he goes to season it, though, he leaves out a little bit of the spice almost unconsciously.
In the end, Trevor manages to make a somewhat decent loaf of bread dough- to go with the cheese that Sypha and he had brought with them before they’d arrived at the castle. It is placed in the oven with pride a dozen or so minutes before Sypha and Alucard amble their way down to his location.
“It smells delicious in here,” Sypha says, her eyes open wide with surprise. “Did you kidnap a baker?”
Trevor rolls his eyes at her. “No.” He says, crossing his arms. “I am making bread.”
Alucard raises his eyebrows but remains silent.
Sypha moves in closer, inspecting the oven with a dainty hand on her chin. “I did not know you could cook....”
Trevor pouts at the pair of them.
“Ye of little faith...Get ready to eat your words and my delicious food. Sit the fuck down.”
Breakfast is a successful affair.
The bread is delicious.
“...I am quite impressed, Belmont,” Alucard tells him, delicately slicing another piece off the (admittedly quite misshapen,) loaf in front of the three of them. “This is quite edible.” It’s the first thing he’s said all morning.
Backhanded compliment regardless, it fills Trevor with an embarrassing sense of relief.
“Yeah, this is really good!” Sypha says, her mouth full.
Trevor preens, feeling far too proud of himself...
Nevertheless, he finds his eyes wandering back to the recipe book.
“I must admit… I do have your mother to thank, Alucard.”
Alucard tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
Trevor gestures to the pile of parchment on the counter. “I found that in the corner and followed it to the letter. It worked out great.”
Alucard has the strangest expression on his face now. He looks to where Trevor is gesturing before he lets out the smallest, most minuscule laugh. “My mother was awful at cooking.” He says, with all the fondness in the world.
All of the ice-cold stiffness within him from before had begun to thaw. It was nice.
Trevor furrows his brows, “but the recipes she wrote all seemed so thorough and detailed…”
“They’re not her recipes, Belmont,” Alucard speaks, a tinge of bittersweetness on his lips now. It’s only then that Trevor understands. ”...They’re my father’s.”
“Oh,” Trevor says inarticulately. He looks down at the loaf of bread- now half-eaten. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the concept of Dracula doing something so domestic… so sweet.
“But vampires only require blood for sustenance?” Sypha says, her head tilting in question. She seems entirely unphased by the loaf’s origins and uses the other pair’s inaction as an excuse to eat more of it.
“Yes.” Alucard confirmed, ‘but he liked to cook for my mother and I. He said it was another science that he wanted to master… I think it was just because mother inflated his ego to the size of the castle every time he did.”
There was something awfully human about that. Not even just human- it was endearing. Trevor quite honestly didn’t want to believe his own mind when he thought that.
“This kitchen is, perhaps, the only room in this whole castle that nothing bad has ever happened within. I think that is why I thought I would be able to keep the nightmares at bay here.”
“Alucard-”
“I know now that that is not the case.” He said bitterly. “I do apologise for my actions the night previous. I was not myself. Not truly.” He winces- that pained expression rising to his face once more. “I know that perhaps you were only trying to coax me off of my hysteria, but what you said-”
-Oh for fuck’s sake.
Trevor was done with this whole routine.
He rises from his seat and, with all the speed and grace of a seasoned hunter, leans over the table- grabs Alucard by the collar and kisses him on the lips.
It’s strange. Kissing someone that isn’t Sypha after all this time. It isn’t bad though. It’s just a different kind of good.
He can taste the different spices he’d put in the bread on the other’s lips.
Alucard stiffens for just the slightest of seconds before Trevor feels a hand on the nape of his neck. Keeping him in place. His fingers are far warmer than he could have imagined, heated by the summer sunlight.
The tension eases from Trevor’s body as he realises that this action had, in fact, spoken louder than words.
Things slowly get better after that.
Like with every wound, it took time to heal. But now that Alucard was willing to let them help treat it- things had made a turn for the better.
They stay in the castle- all three of them together. They clean each and every room up- wiping away the gory details of the past- and the melancholy memories of Alucard’s childhood. It’s a welcome yet dull catharsis for Alucard... And just straight up dull for Trevor- but with the trio working together once more- it was bearable. It was good.
Alucard finally joins them in bed the night before they conquer his childhood room with their brooms. Sypha and Trevor don’t say a word about it for fear of scaring him off.
...But something about it had just felt right. The moment the three of them, dead tired from all the work they’d done- scuttled under the covers to get warm.
It was like the missing piece of the puzzle.
Alucard, for the first time in a very long time- has the bliss of a dreamless slumber.
It’s so entirely incomprehensible to him that when he sees the rays of morning poking at his eyes- he starts crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep and it was glorious.
He cleans with an insurmountable vigour that day.
It wasn’t perfect. It never would be.
Each and every one of them had scars from the past that wouldn’t heal. It came with their profession, their lifestyle.
They knew that their work wasn’t done. Not here. Not anywhere.
But there was still one more thing that Trevor thought important to do before they moved on.
Alucard, Sypha and Trevor all stand out the front of the castle. Looking upon the two corpses on stakes outside. Sumi and Taka.
Alucard had recounted the events that led up to their deaths with little detail or fanfare. Trevor could tell he didn’t regret what had happened- but he did think that in some sick, twisted way- Alucard may have occasionally missed his two assailants.
Well, missed what he thought they were- at the very least.
“I say we replace these with some lovely rose bushes, what say you, Alucard?” Sypha suggests, her hands clasped in enthusiasm. She had very much enjoyed making the castle over from head to toe. She’d never had a home growing up, she was always on the road with the rest of her clan... But now that she had the opportunity to boss Alucard and Trevor around over the positioning of candelabras and bookshelves- she seemed like a natural.
“Hmm.” Alucard makes an affirmative noise, still staring straight ahead at the pair upon the stakes. There are cogs turning in his mind. “I wish to cremate them.” He says, his golden eyes set with determination.
Trevor raises his eyebrows, “that seems too… honourable, doesn’t it?”
Alucard shakes his head. “They were victims of circumstance. Though they betrayed my kindness, I know now that I still have much to learn about humanity. I needn’t write their whole species off because these two were traitorous bastards.”
Trevor frowns. He hadn’t expected that. “When we first got here... You told us you thought your father was right… What made you change your mind?”
Alucard rolls his eyes. “You two did, of course. You refused to leave my side because you knew I was in peril within myself. You atoned for your previous actions tenfold. You gained my trust all over again because you did not want me to feel unsafe between you as I slept… These two before you,” he gestures to Sumi and Taka- or what was left of them anyway. “They were just what I thought I could never have with you. They were dupes, shallow replacements. What they did was wrong. But in denying my own feelings- I did not see the signs.”
A silence passes through the three of them like a welcome summer breeze.
And then Trevor decides to ruin it.
“You’re not gonna put us on skewers though, are you?”
“Only if you keep hogging the covers.”
“...Fuck.”
Trevor Belmont could honestly say that he hadn’t been to all that many burials.
He was usually the one that inflicted the aforementioned death.. .
Not to mention demons didn’t usually get funerals.
Even his family hadn’t gotten one. There had been nothing left of them to bury. The unwillingly sober nights he spent alone with his thoughts served as their funeral service.
Looking at the fire in front of him now, he can’t help but think of them. How they’d suffered. How he’d been the only one to make it out alive. How it should have been his sisters, or his parents- or someone else more useful than him.
But then he looks to his side, at Alucard- at Sypha. They bring him back to the present. They bring him back to reality.
He’d been allowed to live for a reason. And he thinks his reasons are right beside him.
Trevor grabs each of their hands as they watch the fire burn, the heat of the blaze nearing on unpleasant.
“...You should probably chuck those creepy fucking dolls of us in here too, Alucard.”
“The what!?” Sypha exclaims.
“I think I’d rather I keep the doll of you than the one in front of me, Belmont.”
Sypha puts a hand on her cheek.“You made dolls of us?!”
“...Perhaps.”
In the end, Trevor knew that it would be alright. They were living in crazy- nay, batshit insane times, but they would be alright. For there was never any change in complacency, and never any new love in remaining silent.
It would be alright.