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Chapter Text

Prompt A: Alucard (Symphony of the Night): “We are allies only by necessity.” 

OR 

Prompt B: Barlowe (Order of Ecclesia) becomes a vampire 

"Ecclesia's wish... The wish of all mankind. Now go, Shanoa! You will be the one. Our world's savior..." Barlowe summoned up his typical gravitas, reserved for moments of worship, of utter reverance for the Lord.

All three pieces were bound, and the runes upon the sacrifice's back flickered crimson with magic.

"That's right, Shanoa. I am here for you, in your greatest moment... Turn to the vessel," the master commanded. She did as told, still captured in the state of unawareness that had plagued her since the previous attempt at this ritual.

Barlowe had made extra certain that the doors were sealed this time.

Darkness flickered, stronger and stronger, between her outstretched hands. Like a violet aurora, Agony glowed around her, the powers of Dracula Himself. It was like a dark crescendo, the ringing in Barlowe's ears growing louder and louder. A presence.

Dominus.

It was as if time had frozen.

"Now!"

Release. Like multicolored flame, then an explosion of pitch black, and Barlowe feared briefly he had gone blind.

Shanoa staggered, then collapsed in front of the Vessel, clutching herself in pain. No one to cradle her, still she would cradle herself.

"...Why? I'm fading... It's so dark..." she muttered, feebly. As her mouth gaped open in shock, bright red blood poured out, then in turn from her sightless eyes. With no tears or sadness, still her body would weep.

"Rejoice, Shanoa. With your sacrifice, the wishes of mankind will all come true."

"No... No!" Her eyes went wide, even without their sight. "I cannot die! I... I..." Her voice grew feeble as she begged. There was no hope for her that remained, but still she rebelled against fate in her last moments.

None of it mattered.

She was no more than a body quietly disintegrating into shadow and blood. Dominus had finally claimed its sacrifice.

It was done, Barlowe thought, with a relieved sigh. Despite all of the complications of the previous months, the runaway traitor... Despite how Albus fought, he could never change her fate, chosen as martyr. He had died for nothing. That pleased Barlowe greatly.

The ground began to shake, violently, converging all the magic that dwelled in the earth. The resurrection! It was just as he had read. The scholar let out a delighted laugh, clutching the shattered remains of the Vessel from which Dracula had been birthed once more.

Barlowe was a humble devotee to the Lord. He would ask not for eternal life, for a place at His council, to even enter His dark castle. He was satiated alone in knowing He once more walked the earth; his life's work complete. The castle must be appearing now, on that not-too distant cliff, and the earthquake subsided.

He dropped to his knees in thankful prayer. His followers had likely fled to the streets, revelling in happiness, so he was alone there, in the place of his devotion.

He intended to pray there forever, to finally die in utter bliss. He had no more that remained except his own faith. How long did he stay there in silent grace? Enough for the night to steal away the evening sun, enough for the sound of heavy boots to find their way into the stilled cathedral.

"Well met, Barlowe."

The voice was unfamiliar, but he knew it at once. Who else had he worshipped for these many years?!

"My Lord," Barlowe muttered, terrified to even look up and meet His eyes for fear of offense. He was too unworthy to meet Him, he was certain of it. But still, the Lord had come to greet him. "I have sacrificed much for this moment. My- My own student."

Really, he did not grieve her death. Her greater purpose was her own reward. She would certainly forgive him, had there been anything left of her to forgive.

"Meet my eyes, Barlowe. You've spent decades preparing for this; did you think you would go unrewarded?"

He was at once stunned at the sight of the vampire. He was like something crafted of glistening silver and stone, white hair spilling over a pale grey face. He, pure moonlight, with two gleaming red eyes shining like beacons down from his massive height. A giant, cloaked in ebony.

"I ask no reward, Lord Dracula," Barlowe stammered.

Dracula's clawed hand reached down to stroke his aged face. Barlowe shuddered at the contact. He would take this, and nothing more, just to be close with his God.

"But I have a gift for you, my follower. One that gains you everything and costs me nothing. I do hope you'll accept," His gleaming fangs revealed themself as He smiled. "Many of my followers did much less in hope of this much."

"...You wish to turn me into a vampire!" Barlowe gasped.

"Indeed," Dracula chuckled, lifting Barlowe in His massive hands.

"This honor, I am not worthy of. I am a humble priest. I am but your servant, Lord Dracula. Turn me if you wish, but whatever it is, I will bow to your command."

Dracula tore through his neck, fangs goring through his flesh and leaving a brutalized aftermath where his throat once had been. Barlowe screamed, collapsing from His grasp and onto the marble floors. Every part of him was burning, brightly cold, surely- surely!- with His purifying holy powers! Long incisors wrenched through his gums, making an impaler of his maw, an acknowledgement of the predator that always dwelled in his noble heart.

The transformation was agony. But oh, oh, he was eternal. Dracula did not stay to assist him, turning into a swarm of bats like none could ever conceive, and flooding in a great mass from the cathedral. He was alone.

There was no life there, only undeath, Barlowe thought, laughing as the pain receded. An eternity awaited him, to gain endless knowledge, to feast upon the immortal lifedrink and be merry.

Blessed by the Lord, he was, to ascend so.

Chapter Text

Prompt A: Carmilla (Rondo of Blood): "The grave gives shelter to a weary vampire. Within the shadows of this tomb, I may rest."  

or

Prompt B: Soma Cruz  (Aria/Dawn of Sorrow): "He's someone who looks human and sounds human,  but is not human, so he's always on the margins."

"Milla," Laura muttered, trying to cover her ears- her new, feline ears- from the melancholy rain. "You said we'd find a place to sleep. Sunrise is coming faster than you realize."

"We will, I assure you," the masked vampire replied, gripping the clawed hand in her own. They had to flee in secret- the location of Carmilla's resurrection had been intercepted at the last moment.

By hunters! Always hunters! Carmilla hissed to herself. It was vampire hunters that had killed her in the first place, and now they sought to send her to the grave again. Laura's turning had been rushed- no time to wait and let herself become accustomed to the delirious feelings of bloodthirst, as the two lovers had to continue their flight from the worst of mankind.

"What we're looking for is a graveyard. The solitude and shadows... They will allow us to sleep, unlike anything else. We're restless creatures," Carmilla explained, as their footsteps splattered against the mud and dirt of the forest floor. Perhaps fleeing in the other direction from the nearest village was a poor idea- far from food, far from shelter. "We need the stillness of death to get any sleep. It's comforting and familiar."

"If it's anything like being around you, I'm certain I agree," Laura purred, and it delighted Carmilla greatly to hear her so pleased and affectionate. Something was biting at her, though.

"...I shouldn't have made you agree to this."

"I asked to be turned, Milla," the monstrous vampire replied, snippily. "You didn't make me agree to anything. I couldn't stand another moment as a stupid human girl."

"You weren't stupid. You fell for me, didn't you?" Carmilla smiled, invisibly behind the obscuring mask. She got a mrrrrp in response from the other woman, rubbing against her.

What have I made of her? She was human, certainly, but I loved her then. They fascinated me, those mortals, one part of her thought, still tasting the smear of her lover's blood on her lips, and the other part of her responded: They wanted me destroyed. She is different. That is why she relinquished herself to me.

The inevitability of the dawn was worrying, but she thought she could scent a grave.

A massive grave, a series of graves, a large area filled with death- it would be very unfortunate if they only came across a potter's field. There is no place to slumber in a potter's field. Only unmarked pits, she recalled her mother reminding her. Still, she raced through the treeline, her agile companion slipping onto all fours almost instinctively.

Not a graveyard, but something stranger... Rows upon rows of impaled human corpses littered the cleared out area, leading as though on parade to a cliff that Carmilla had sworn she had never seen before, and on that cliff stood a castle that had only appeared before in her dreams.

"Laura! Laura, look! It must be the place of the Lord of Vampires Himself!" Carmilla grabbed her shoulder and pointed at the cliff.

"...Count Dracula?" Laura cocked her head, her whiskers twitching. “I thought he was a bedtime story to scare children.”

"He offers sanctuary to all vampires, or so the legends say... In a castle fortified by armies of the most powerful forged creatures. We'll be safe before dawn..." Carmilla sighed, then clapped her hands with all the poise she used during the masquerade balls she used to frequent.  "Come along!"

They weaved between the spikes and rotting flesh, up to the dreamlike castle on the cliff. The doors swung open to welcome them as if on cue.

"So nice, to not need to be invited for once," Carmilla muttered, wringing out her rain-soaked dress.

"Is that a problem for our kind?" Laura responded, peering down the shadowy halls.

"Often," she chuckled. "There is much you'll need to learn about vampirism."

"Of course, if you'd be the one to guide me."

Carmilla laughed again, and led Laura down the entrance corridor, and at the top of a great staircase, there was a shadowy figure, playing the organ and only outlined by the illuminations of the last rays of moonlight. He was tall, taller than even Carmilla, and the fugue played its final chord.

"Guests," the giant laughed. "The castle has appeared out of the mists to you for a reason." He stood up from the grand pipe organ, and turned to face the two young women (or, well, Carmilla was at least only young by the standards of immortals). His eyes were like glistening crimson stones, and Carmilla at once felt compelled to bow. Who else could it be, but the legendary Count?

Laura still stood, though, not quite familiar with vampiric etiquette. "...Our names are Lady Carmilla and Laura. We seek sanctuary."

"I am Dracula, and I bid you welcome to my home, as I often have to wayward vampires."

"Wayward indeed! We lost our way, running from vampire hunters," Laura explained. "I cannot stand them. I cannot stand that I was ever human, when all they do is hate and kill for what they believe is so right. Isn't love right? They thought Carmilla was kidnapping me, when we tried to elope, and they killed her... That was years ago. Only tonight are we reunited, after I performed the resurrection."

"They thought you were helpless? That you could not desire as she does?" Dracula's eyes narrowed. "That does not surprise me... I too lost my love to human hatred, despite her being one of their kind."

"So I've heard," Carmilla replied. "We all know your story, my Lord. Vampires weep over your tragedy every night."

"Then you understand my thirst for vengeance. Why this world must be cleansed of human evil! Now, Carmilla, Laura... The sole exchange you will make for my hospitality is your own loyalty. Do you understand what that means?"

He grinned.

"Of course," Laura hissed with resolve. "Vengeance."

"Vengeance," Carmilla repeated.

And there, they found the grave shelter they sought.

Chapter Text

Prompt A: Sypha Belnades (Castlevania III) & Julia Laforeze (Curse of Darkness): "It is not your will, but cowardice that keeps you here." 

or

Prompt B: Trevor Belmont (Castlevania III) joins Dracula

The shrouded hunter did not expect to find a little, lived-in cottage in the center of the wild, wily mountains. Smoke poured from its chimney and warmth flickered in the windows. It was inhabited, Sypha realized.

She'd like a nice rest, certainly, but it was always a risk to be found out- even with the confidence Trevor had given her, she still needed to hide her identity on the day-to-day. Incidents of witch-burnings and other executions had only gone up in Wallachia since Dracula's defeat. There were rumors of a curse, but Sypha thought that might be naive. Mankind could be too cruel at times.

Now you're sounding like ol' Dracula, she prodded at herself. She had been kind of depressed since what happened with Alucard, locked away in self-imposed sleep.

She tired of this. She tired of agonizing over risks, and decided whatever happened would happen. If it ended with blazing bright lightning bolts from the Belnades staff and a hurried escape, so be it. She was cold. She rapped on the door hurriedly, and adjusted her hood.

"Come in," a woman said, opening up the door. "You looking to buy anything?"

"Oh, is this a shop? I was seeking lodging."

"Well, I can accommodate for the night. I don't get many visitors, but I brew up some potions just in case," she smiled. "My name is Julia. Be ye a witch?"

Sypha just about had a miniature heart attack before she realized that she was talking to a fellow practitioner of the craft.

"Ah! Ah, yes. I'm known by a few names, but Sypha is preferred." She lowered her hood gingerly and she felt her posture relax.

"That name sounds familiar," Julia pondered.

"I'm of clan Belnades. I was involved with Dracula's defeat."

"Your fame precedes you. Come, sit down for a spell," she nodded. "I'm nothing special, really, just a healer. Though, I know a bit about devi- about monsters."

"All magic has value, Julia," Sypha replied, taking a seat on a well-worn wooden chair. "Healing does require a patient, though... Why stay in such an isolated place?"

Julia frowned. "I'm not sure how much information I should give out. I am... technically in hiding."

"I've been there." Metaphorically, at least.

"I could probably trust you with this, since we're in the same boat, really. I'm hiding from my brother. He's been behind a number of incidents after the Count was destroyed."

"The witch-burnings?"

Julia swallowed pensively. "He got a woman killed just last month who... She... She looked identical to me. What else should I have done? It's a clear message."

"That is worrying..." Sypha looked out the window. "So your fear binds you here."

"Oh, Sypha, I do not want to see his face again. I do not think I even could face him again. He has evidence he could use against me! I had to hide."

"...I shouldn't stay, then. I have witch-hunters on my trail. I do not wish to endanger you."

"Oh, I bid thee farewell, then. A shame this had to be cut short."

"They were sent by a man named Laforeze, I think. The oddest thing is that he was a follower of Dracula, or so the rumors say. Looking for vengeance after his death. You make sure you don't cross his path, alright, Julia?"

Her face had gone quite pale. "Ah... Of course. I shall be sure... to avoid him."

"I'll be going, then. Perhaps we'll meet again someday."

"...You should flee Wallachia."

"I love my home far too much. I fought for it. I do not wish to hide again... Though I suppose in times like these, I must. But... Why do you not flee, Julia?"

She did not answer, but the look in her eyes was far too clear to the other witch.

This, too, was fear.