Chapter 1: From the Lion's Den to the Dragon's Nest
Another branch snapped in your hand as you attempted to steady yourself in the dense snow, wool-clad fingers unfurling to watch pieces of the brittle wood fall. The frigid air burned your throat, making each greedy gasp heavier and more excruciating than the last. Your chest ached as well, heart thrumming like hundreds of galloping steeds, deafening you to any sounds that you had keenly listened for.
This winter was premature and unusual, especially when merely weeks prior fresh blossoms had erupted and speckled trees with vibrant hues of white and pink and orange, denoting the rebirth of life again. The muddy pastures had turned green, does appeared with their young, and the birds sang a symphony of return.
“How could this have happened?” your voice reached no one, so fragile you had hardly recognized it as your own. “I need to get out of this weather.”
Your legs had carried you hours away from the town, it wasn’t the time to realize just how cold you were. Sniffing hard, you nestled into your furs and thick scarves to keep your skin hidden from the bitter winds, blinking against the weight of the tiny crystals on your eyelashes and burning in your eyes.
As you pushed onward, treading a path of your own in the endless white, you found the bent trees for support, noting the way they seemed to be frozen in motion as though blown by an enormous gust. Deep holes pocketed the snow with ice entombed corpses of birds, eternally captured in mid-flight, squirrels midst a lunge, and deer on their sides like toppled statues.
‘They didn’t stand a chance…’
It wasn’t until the forest cleared, giving way to an expanse of field that you escaped the horrid images.
Yet, you were immediately cast into another sight, one unlike you had ever seen. Slowly, you pulled the scarf away from your mouth, breath a thick fog as you looked on incredulously.
Before you stood a towering castle, spiraling and desolate. The stones were nearly black, making it a rather glum thing to look at surrounded by untouched white. There were no tracks leading up to the castle; no hooves, nor trails from heavy sleighs or wagons, leaving you to question the occupancy of the place.
‘Surely if someone were there, they would’ve had to leave at some point for food or wood. But, I see nothing…’
Stranger than the presence of the bleak castle itself was the feeling it exuded, a sensation you weren’t foreign to these days. It was very obviously a castle, an inanimate structure expertly built stone-by-stone, yet as the stillness in the crisp air was met with a light gust, you couldn’t help but think it was breathing.
‘This place gives me a creeps, maybe I should keep going–’
Distantly, still very far yet but amplified by the unsettling quiet, you heard the familiar cry from bloodhounds–a distinct yelp when they had found something. Mustering your nerves, you trudged onward through the snow towards the castle, ignoring the unease prickling at your spine and every instinct to turn away.
Better to face uncertainty than what you know awaited you where the bloodhounds called, those ominous devils.
The castle doors were sealed shut, whether by bolt and lock, by ice, or something else–you only stared at them hopelessly, up the entire length and then to the left and right, taking in the way the sun struck the stained glass windows that were perfectly spaced and proportioned on both sides.
‘The doors are locked, the bloodhounds are close… what do I do?’
Your fingers splayed across the grand walls of metal, the chill of winter seemed ensnared by it and you felt it through your mittens. If a portcullis had stood, there would had been some home to climb it or bend the metal, yet this castle was unique in design–in every sense.
‘Okay, maybe if I walk around I could find a way in.’
It was that thought alone that motivated you now; aside from the impending doom of approaching bloodhounds and the absolute certainty that if the hounds didn’t find you, you’d freeze to death instead.
What you found on the other side was another door, a replica of the first. Much as its twin, there was no hope to pry it open despite your efforts to wedge your fingers between the large crevice where they met. For the second time, you gazed high, taking in the stained glass, stumbling through the snow to look at each one.
‘W-Wait, is that… a hole?’
You squinted, hand raised to shield your eyes from the sun, noticing one window in particular had a rather sizable gap in the left-hand corner, leaving the rest of the glass a hideous mess of cracks.
Despite your surroundings being a mess of ice and snow, the castle remained untouched down to the far and few flawed cracks in the stone. You were certain whomever had constructed the castle hadn’t accounted for a single person to invade–much less by scaling the side of it.
‘Oh, man. I am out of shape… I am not meant for this… I’m just a simple person with simple needs. Oh, how did this happen?’
You struggled to root your fingertips in the stone and to find your footing, coming close to plummeting thirty feet back into the powdery sea below. A sigh quivered from your lips, reminded of just how much your body ached and chest burned–your fingers were beginning to stiffen as though cursed with old age.
‘Keep going, keep going, keep going, keep… going…’
Just when you had reached the verge of letting go, your fingers curled the ledge of the window. You promptly splayed your hand across it, fighting the weight of your own exhaustion to climb atop of it. The ledge overlooked but a small part of the forest you had wandered from, but truthfully, even sitting that high up, there was nothing to see that you already hadn’t.
A wasteland of nothingness, there was nothing to yearn for or go back to now.
You didn’t waste any more time dwelling on what didn’t matter. With a careful maneuver; twisting your body on the ledge, your arms shook as you braced your weight and stood, thrusting your foot into the glass to smash it inward. The harsh winter had made the glass brittle, shattering into countless fragments of shining red and blue.
The fit through the window had been tight, but you managed well enough and jumped into the castle, away from the headhunters, but simultaneously into the lion’s den, you thought.
Already, the inside of the castle was a start contrast to the outside, both in terms of appearance and comfort. You eased the scarf away from your mouth while your eyes remained moving, scouring all around for signs of life.
Predictably, you found nothing of the sort.
Instead, you found a spacious interior blanketed in dust, plumes swirling about you with each step you took. A grand staircase sprawled before you, the dark stone and red carpeting were discolored from years of neglect; even the gold banisters were lackluster from the weight of dust.
There was nothing particularly fascinating about the castle, to your disappointment. You noticed a set of metal doors far to your right, those likely being the ones you fought with. And several magnificent lantern-hooks seemed to sprout from the stone, branching outward towards the high ceiling. Upon further inspection, you saw structures of similar design embedded into the wall, undoubtedly tailored for actual flames.
‘Just what kind of castle is this?’
That question circled your mind during the entirety of your tour, finding it not only devoid of life but also of accessibility. There were no shortage of doors in the damn place, yet none budged when you tried to pry them open.
All accept one.
The door swung open with such force you were surprised you managed to step back in time to not lose your nose, but more startling than than were the skeletons that emerged from the dark room, bones clattering as they walked.
“What’s this? A human? How strange. How did you get in here, lamb?” spoke one skeleton, the voice had an unnatural distortion to it.
“Kekekeke, a brave one! A real brave soul, this one!” cackled another, drawing a tarnished blade from the depth of its rib-cage.
“Stay quiet, human. You’ll awaken the Master! Come with us, quietly. We haven’t had company in so long!” groaned the last, bony appendages attached by seemingly nothing by air reached towards you.
You couldn’t muster a word, jaw slack as you backed away before turning and sprinting opposite to them, up the grand staircase and through a corridor chiseled from the same stone as the rest of the castle. The skeleton’s cackling wasn’t far behind yet they weren’t sight when you looked back.
“Fucking open! Goddamnit!” you snarled, yanking at the handle on every door you passed, acquainted once more with the scenario from before. “Just open!”
“Come out, come out, sweet little lamb!”
“We won’t hurt ya, just wanna have a nice talk.”
“The sword ain’t nothin’ but a greeting to ya!”
Hearing that they growing closer with no foreseeable escape for you at the end of the corridor, you thrashed against the doors harder than before. Your heart hammered against your chest, pants filling the space before you with opaque fogs and the silence with whimpers.
Your chest was on fire, throat as parched as your lips and your mind was fading in an incoherent haze. You slumped against the wall, fingers twining the candle-holder embedded in the stone to keep yourself from crumpling to the ground altogether.
How did this happen? You only wanted to get out of that town, away from the headhunters and the prying, spiteful gazes around you. Was this fate truly worse than what it would had been at the hands of man?
A loud crack jarred you from your thoughts, the candle-stick dipping you closer to the floor whilst your body dragged across the stone as the wall spun you around, out of sight. Both hands gripped the candle-holder now, you crouched before a dimly lit hall preceding a rather decrepit set of stairs, crumbling and fissured.
It took you but a moment to gather your bearings and continue forward, especially at the grating sound of bone smashing into hard stone, the skeleton’s rambunctious chattering but feet away.
You leaned against the wall as you descended, tentative but quick into the depths of the castle. Twisting tighter and tighter, you soon realized that as the staircase circled more intensely, the walls also were much closer than before.
An end came before you were too claustrophobic, opening up into a large room that was surprisingly well-lit for being so deep under the castle. You stepped cautiously, picking at your nails as you examined the room and the strange contraptions that fed into the walls.
The pipes led to a single point: a gigantic bulbous tank in the center of the room brimming with a red substance. You were no fool to the raised rectangular container there as well.
If possible, mingling with the skeletons was much preferable now.
‘Oh shit, oh shit. I need to leave, I need to get out of here…’
As if on cue, the coffin gave a hiss as the clasps adhering the lid shot upright, allowing the smooth, black stone to slide down and land on the ground with such a ruckus you thought you felt vibrations beneath your feet.
Despite this, you were anchored to your spot, unblinking as you looked upon the slumbering man inside the coffin. His hair was vibrant contrast to the entirety of the castle; platinum with such a sheen you thought it could be spun into a lavish tapestry. His skin was of ash and so translucent you thought you could see the veins underneath even from where you stood.
His clothes were dark, obviously crafted from the finest silk and leather–you thought he could had been a prince. Truly, he was one of the most beautiful things you had ever laid eyes on, but quickly tore your eyes away at the thought and stepped back.
The clack of your heel against the stone sounded so much louder now, and you sure it was to that man. At the moment your heel had struck, his eyes opened, piercing into your own with such intensity that you felt as nothing. Insignificant and small.
‘He’s a vampire…’
You had half the mind to run, yet you hesitated. Where would you run to? Back to the skeletons? Back to the headhunters?
The vampire didn’t move for a moment, those unfathomably sharp eyes never missed a single movement you made; not your jittering, nor the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. You wondered if this is how the hunted felt? Ensnared in the eyes of the predator before death.
“A human steps foot into my castle? How?” said the vampire in tones far colder than the perpetual winter outside. He rose from the coffin–or rather, levitated, from his chamber, long tendrils of platinum draped over his shoulders. You had decided then to stand your ground, no matter how proudly he held himself and stared down down his nose at you. “Answer me.”
“I broke a window.”
The vampire’s face remained unchanged, unresponsive as though you hadn’t said anything at all. If possible, however, you were almost positive he was staring you down harder than before.
Out of the lion’s den and straight into a dragon’s nest.
If you had to choose a death, it being at the hands of a beautiful vampire was preferable. And yet, you were determined to survive the doom that hung over your head in whatever way you could. Even if that meant bargaining with a vampire.
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Fear gripped you in mysterious ways. Every limb in your body felt heavy as though anchored to the floor by chains, and though your eyes were free to roam, they remained fixed steadily ahead on the vampire with hair of spun gold. Bizarre as it was not to wither beneath his gaze, you had come to accept should you be meant for an untimely end, this would be it.
You wondered if fear had seeped into the marrow of your bones and into your head, numbing you to the severity of the situation at hand. Even though an endlessly frozen landscape awaited you beyond the walls of black stone and marble and jowls of hatred and searing torches, you couldn’t will yourself to respond appropriately.
“Do you have a name, Vampire?” you ventured daringly, unable to curb your intrigue despite his unwavering gaze. Surely, your terror was so intoxicating at this point that you had the audacity to attempt a conversation with him. Those glistening waves of hair, unfathomably sharp eyes, and unmarred flesh seemed too angelic for him to be the work of the devil.
One of these days, if not now, your insatiable curiosity would be the end of you.
“You claim to have entered the castle through a window.” He said at last, stirring from where he had been rooted before you, peering around the expansive basement as though keenly aware of it for the first time. “There were defenses placed on it to keep everything out.”
“I don’t know anything about any defenses, my lord,” you replied, feet shuffling in place to follow him as he walked around you with long, fluid strides. “But, I just scaled the walls and the window was so weak from the cold.”
The echo of his footfalls ceased, his back still facing you. “The cold, you say?”
“Aye.” Once again, you felt rather brave and took several tentative steps forward, fingers steeping as you slunk closer. This roused greater interest in the circumstances surrounding his slumber; it made you wonder just how long he had been asleep in this castle of decay and dust. “Have you not seen the world outside at all these days?”
He never turned back to you, instead the confident clack of his heels as he walked away reverberated off the dank walls and his reluctant response stayed with you. “I… have not.”
It was only once he had vanished from your sight, cape trailing and dragging the steps behind him as he ascended the stone staircase that you finally found the gumption to haul after him. Your fingers twitched as they splayed across the stone, balancing you as you stretched to get view of the tail end of his cape.
A greater part of you felt as though you were falling prey to the butcher, a lamb far too bold for its own good and yet you couldn’t stop yourself. There was no telling what would happen if you stayed behind.
“Does the lord of the castle have a name?” you tried again, feeling winded the longer you climbed the stairs. It was always humorously how much easier it was to go down than to climb. Your heart thundered in your ears, breaths as faint puffs of air before your eyes.
The vampire continued to ignore you as he climbed, eliciting a simultaneous rumble in your throat of disappointment and awe when you noticed he wasn’t short of breath in the slightest. If being a vampire didn’t entail needing blood, being beasts borne of the devil’s magic, and bursting to flames in daylight–perhaps being one wouldn’t be so bad.
You nearly walked into his back then, realizing that you both had reached the top of the staircase and faced the revolving stone wall. The vampire reached forward surely, giving the sconce a firm thrust down. Just as before, the wall gave a crack as it shook and swung around, catching you by the back and forcibly ejecting you into the hall behind the vampire.
“Master! You have awoke!” came a clatter of bones.
There was another rattle as the skeleton with the blade sheathed in its ribs took notice of you. “Kekeke, and he is not alone. If it isn’t the lost lamb!”
“You’re just gettin’ yerself into all kinds of trouble!” said the last, the distorted voice sent a shudder racing down your spine. “Tresspassin’, then runnin’, and waking our Master! Unforgivable wretch.”
The skeletons circled you both, edging you closer to the vampire as you instinctively furled your fingers into his cape, head swiveling to track their movements.
“That is enough.” His voice was calm, yet verged on annoyance as he yanked the cape from your grasp and walked forward, causing the skeletons to jolt in surprise, bones clanking as they huddled. “Move aside.”
As they were ordered, the skeletons scuttled away, forming a rigid line with their bony chins pointed high in the air. They possessed no eyes, no eerie glow from within their deep sockets, but you felt as though they watched you as you passed with the vampire–not from malice, but fascination. Their figures shrunk in the distance but they remained as statues.
“How is it that possible. They are skeletons; the dead.” You rounded him to walk alongside him now, tempted to grab his sleeve but thought better of it. “Are they possessed by demons? How have they been reanimated? Tell me!”
“Their exact purpose is what they could not prevent,” he replied, obviously referencing your invasion yet never broke his forward trance to confirm that. “Magic flows this castle like blood the veins of a human. And yet that was not enough to even keep a single one out.”
Your lips stretched taut at the mention of magic. The Church forbid the use of it, of witchcraft or any variation therein. As of recent, they chose to reinforce this law with public spectacles that you had omitted yourself to witnessing; you couldn’t bear to watch those people and the fire–their homes and lives engulfed in spite, in fear, in red.
However, you were jarred from your thoughts as warmth scattered your face, almost as though enveloping you in a nurturing embrace. You were only just realizing the vampire had led you to a wing of the castle you unfamiliar with; tall shelves lined the walls, fit with unkempt trinkets and oddities beneath dust, and books were open on their spines with golden, stiff pages.
And yet what captured your attention more were the three windows that reached from the ceiling to the floor, allowing the radiance of the sun to filter through the veil of wear and dirt layering them. The closer the vampire ventured towards them, the more plumes of dust rose, particles floating back towards the floor and catching the light.
“Wait!” you called out, lunging towards him to reel him away from the light. You were both surprised in the moment; the vampire caved towards your pull, whereas you immediately flung your hands away from him, holding them aloft in submission. “F-Forgive me! But, you’re a vampire. Won’t you burst into flames or something?”
He straightened his back, training a rather harsh stare in your direction that wavered as his eyes traced towards the windows once more, striding towards them with a confidence that made your heart want to burst from your chest.
At first, you flinched the moment he stepped into the light, going as far as to shield your eyes from him, unsure of what would happen. When the air didn’t tear with hellish shrieks or the roar of flames, you peeked through your fingers at where he stood looking outside. “You’re… not on fire.”
Your legs carried you to his side, practically floating in your excitement. “You’re not on fire. How is it you can bear the sun? Just what kind of vampire are you?”
While the tall man’s visage remained beautiful and still as stone, the curtain at his side swayed as his fingers wound it tighter. He spared you a single, fleeting glance before turning away from the window with a flourish. It wasn’t a surprise when he changed the subject at hand. “Winter is upon the land, surely you can fare on your own to nearest down. You will leave.”
“W-Wait! No, no, no!” you sprinted after him, quickly maneuvering your body in front of him to block his path, arms fanning wide. “You don’t get it! It’s not truly winter! The winter has long passed. Not so long ago it was spring. There were blossoms on the trees, there were flowers and squirrels.”
“Absurd,” he replied coolly. “Step aside and take your leave.”
Suddenly, the reality that you could be cast back out to the headhunters and hounds lurked closer. You couldn’t let them find you and take you back to that town. Truthfully, you didn’t feel any more content confined in a castle that breathed magic and death, but you preferred this fate to the other.
“Don’t you think it’s bizarre, Vampire?” you pressed, legs rooted defiantly to refuse him further passage. “A human manages to break into your castle, despite you saying that magic was supposed to keep me out? You’re hearing firsthand from someone who braved that weather, it’s not normal.”
He stared down the length of his nose at you, chin tilted slightly as though to challenge you resolve. “What do you propose the cause is then?”
“I don’t know.” You let your shoulders roll forward with your response. “Maybe magic? Perhaps there’s something evil out there? But, the town I come from, many of my friends have died. Our crops are destroyed, cattle are dead. We’re starving.”
“Why are you here?” he asked cautiously.
You decided to be honest. “Why? Well, surely you can understand survival? I wasn’t sure what else I was supposed to do. My choices were limited to finding a way out, or dying with the rest.”
For the first time since meeting him, he couldn’t seem to refute. Even though the severity of his gaze was enough to make you shrivel, it felt distant as though his mind was elsewhere–contemplating. The only thing you could think to do was to keep your feet planted and wait for him to say something else, though you had taken to burrowing your hands in your layers to retain warmth.
At last, the words spilled forth from his lips, “What is it that you want?”
“Nothing.” You answered simply, lifting your shoulders dismissively. “I don’t want to hassle a vampire, I just want to stay somewhere warm until spring. I am a person to my word, the moment the ice and snow melts, I will leave and you’ll never see me again.”
Of course, you chose to withhold your speculations on just how long the weather would stay. Even you had no true answer.
“I have nothing to accommodate a human.” His logic was sound, you couldn’t deny that.
With a broad sweep of your arm, you attempted to ease his wariness by gesturing to the entirety of the castle. “Nothing to accommodate me? Please! I’m already a scavenger, don’t worry about that. You have a castle with fireplaces and rooms with beds. I can breathe life into this place if you allow it.”
You wondered if it was merely because he was finished dealing with your persistence that he relented, eyes forward as he grazed past you through the corridor.
“At the first sight of spring, you will leave.” He proclaimed, voice loud enough that it carried through the emptiness of the hall.
It was finally sinking in that you were safe at last, for the time being at the very least. Your fingers gripped eagerly at your scarf, raising it over your mouth to keep your lips from drying worse in the frigid air.
Just then, a thought crossed your mind and your whirled in his direction.
“A moment there, Vampire! Give me your name, unless you really don’t fancy the idea of me knowing it.” Third time’s the charm, or so you wanted to believe. He was some ways down the hall when he came to a stop, hair falling away from his shoulder as he turned his head.
He hesitated briefly, voice seeming to linger and swirl endlessly in your mind even once you both had gone separate ways in the castle.
“My name is Alucard.”
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Chapter 3: Falling Into Routine
The days pass for you in a lull and you find yourself settling into a routine that brings you unease. More perilously, Alucard seems to have a hunch that you are capable of using magic.
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
With the passing days an unending stretch of glistening white and numb fingers despite the layers you wore, there was time to contemplate your next move. There was a part of you that held the hope you would awake one morning to the soft tweedle of birds and blossoming trees. You yearned for the warmth and vitality of spring.
Each day was much like the last, however. You would approach the heavy drapery framing windows and move it aside, wincing from the harsh glare of the sun and chill that drifted from the glass. The world still sprawled in ice and snow, entombing much of everything in it.
It brimmed your heart with unease when one day, while sweeping the parlor and feeding the fireplace, you realized you had settled into this routine and found yourself questioning things less and less. Your fingers tightened around the handle, the splintered wood dug into your skin.
“You haven’t forgotten to mark in your book today, ‘ave ya?”
The chattering bones was married to the distorted voice that echoed across the room. You barely acknowledged the skeleton as he approached, though you could feel the empty sockets searing into the side of your head.
“The book? I think I left it in my room.” You replied monotonously, tapping the coarse bristles of the broom into the floor as you thought about it. “I dunno. I’ll have to look. Where’s Seymour and Donnavon?”
“Ehhhh,” Chadwick clicked his teeth, bones rattling as he walked around you towards the fireplace and flung another log atop the flames. “Probably runnin’ around thinkin’ they’re patrolling. They ain’t got anything better to do these days. I think they’re tryna make it up to Master for lettin’ you in, Lambie.”
After a while, the skeleton warriors had ceased most of their antagonistic attitudes towards you, though Chadwick had been the only one to take a genuine liking to your presence and even bothered a proper conversation.
He was the most stout of the three, even though they were all just bones articulated by magic. According to him, they had never been human–or dead for so long they couldn’t place skin nor features to themselves.
Apparently, Alucard had risen them from a graveyard of bones some centuries ago and they had faithfully remained at his side ever since. It had been difficult to quash your keen interest in the vampire’s mastery of magic, much less not use any in the castle yourself.
Of course, you were a fool and as fools do, you slipped up. During the first few weeks of your stay, you had found a rather ornate fireplace in one secluded section of the castle. The air was dry and cold, flitting dust in the air with every step you took and plumes rose off of the armchairs and couches when you smacked them.
The fireplace stood tall, painstakingly carved marble detailed the heads of beasts and the demonic. Despite the work that went into it, the features of the mantle felt smooth as silk. You thought it was only appropriate to light it.
The palm of your hand felt hot as an orb of red curled around your fingertips and slithered towards the fireplace, igniting it and ushering in a breath of life and light to the room. Your contentment didn’t last long, as on your trip around other parts of the castle, you had caught the disjointed conversation between Donnavon and Alucard.
“You assume magic is being used in the castle, aside from my own?” Alucard seemed disinterested, though you were sure his expression wouldn’t have indicated much even he was intrigued. “And where do you suggest the source?”
“Aye.” Donnavon replied. “That human reeks of it. I’m sure ya have felt it, being the man that ya are.”
When the conversation came to a halt, you had been tempted to check around the corner to see if they were still there, but the more intuitive part of yourself kept you flush against the wall.
And as though fate were humoring you, you heard languid strides coming in your direction, the heels of Alucard’s boots were deafening despite the distance.
“I’ll handle it.”
You hadn’t left things to chance that day and immediately scuttled away down one of the other halls to avoid being seen. Since then, you had pointedly avoided being in too near proximity of Alucard, despite you unbridled curiosity pleading otherwise.
Even though he had said that, he never acted on it. And you had assured to keeping your use of magic reserved for the few instances you ventured outside to collect supplies.
“How’s about I fetch yer book for ya? You stayin’ on the second or third floor?”
Chadwick jolted you to your senses, the handle of the broom nearly slipped between your fingers. You stared blankly at his black sockets for a moment, taking notice that his bones clinked as he knocked them together, shifting impatiently and obviously eager to leave.
“Sure, yeah,” you said vacantly, fixing your posture as you began sweeping again. “Second floor, third hall and fourth room on the right. I’ll probably explore the third floor tomorrow. The book is, uh, probably on the dresser.”
He left you then following a stiff salute and you couldn’t help but feel fortunate for the silence that permeated the parlor. The scuff of coarse bristles against the floor lulled the tension from your body. Although, you couldn’t claim you had ever found a moment of relaxation since entering the castle those weeks ago.
You were only able to keep some concept of time by detailed record keeping in a journal you had stolen when you first arrived. Burgundy with stiff, golden pages that made an awful ruckus when turned; an inconspicuous item that lured your attention from the start, much the same as your uncle’s forbidden texts had.
“I’ll need to add another tally tonight.” You mused, sweeping several centuries worth of debris and gunk towards the wall. “Will this be week the third or fourth, I wonder…”
“Two days will mark the beginning of the fourth.”
Alucard’s callous voice was unexpected, sending a chill rushing through your body as you whirled towards him, broom raised a little more defensively than you had intended. He paid you little heed as he sauntered past, the cape of exquisite fabric seemed to shift like water and his hair near glistened white when light reached it.
He was beautiful as he was cold, a mystery that you couldn’t help but fixate yourself on at times. The Church had taught you he was everything you were meant to despise and fear, and yet you could not bring yourself to do so.
Not fully, at least.
“Has it been that long already?” you approached him tentatively, bracing your weight on the handle of the broom. “Hard to believe when everyday seems exactly like the last.”
If he had heard you, he chose not to respond to your little quip and kept his eyes ahead at the sea of glimmering white and frozen trees. He studied it a while longer, eyes thinning against the brilliance of the sun while his expression grew more severe.
He turned then with a flourish, startling you upright and back to give him room to walk by. You were surprised when he stopped before you, head tilted at the slightest to fix you with a sharp look, those gold eyes of his traced every discernible movement you made.
“I’m beginning to suspect there’s some truth to what you spoke before, about there being some forces at work behind his winter.” He seemed satisfied with that, continuing onward through the hall without another glance to you. “You would do well to be wary of where you go when you wander outside.”
Even though he had gone, you still felt his gaze and his presence linger with you. Had he said that out of concern? Was it meant as a threat?
You felt your frustration fester knowing that you couldn’t get a read on him.
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