I always wondered what it would be like if Alucard had a son. And no this is NOT a Castlevania crossover. Far from it. :D
The Cruel Game of the Fates
The voices. The thousands upon thousands of voices. He could hear them calling out to him. Beckoning him to fall into the madness. Their spiny hands grasped at his skin, and every time he struggled he felt the crimson essence within his system drip down from his wounds. Their eyes pleaded with him to give in and become on with them. To soon became an unidentified spirit among their tortured masses. He fought back desperately, screaming and clawing to rise from the abyss. He didn't want to fall in.
Each flail grew weaker and weaker, and their grasping at his limbs grew stronger and stronger after every counter. Exhaustion was beginning to settle in, but he didn't want to give up. He couldn't give up. Losing his sanity and his soul now meant he would be the shell of a person he was. He had an identity, a name. They kept telling him he didn't have one. He had one, he had one! He had a name! He had a personality! He had an identity!
Or did he? The doubt settled in when they told him of his conformity. He was a mere lamb among the masses of sheep, following with the flow. He paused at this, was he as bad as the others? He couldn't be. They killed for the fun of it. He killed for the sustenance. He needed to live. He needed to live!
The thought sent him into a tailspin of strength, giving a guttural roar. Fangs bared and back curled, the blood spilt upon his body came to life. Sentient strings of garnet now sharp as any blade of a sword, they cut through the arms grasping him to pull him into the abyss of insanity. Their shrieks of agony led the arms to retreat, leaving him alone and gasping for breath. They promised him that they would be back, and that his strength would wane. And when it did, he was as good as theirs!
Tired eyes finally looked up to see the faint, welcoming light. Freedom. Freedom was his. And he could not be any happier.
Nephrite eyes opened with slow blinks to release the hold of Somnus and Morpheus upon him. Another nightmare. That was the third one this week! What was going on? All he wanted was a good sleep without the threats of a mass of spirits to drag him down into the depths of Hell. For once he wanted to dream about something mundane, at the very least. He found solace with a slight mix of irrittation from the dream madness as a pleasant voice called for him, his hearing sensitive even through the mound of blankets within his ebony coffin.
"Dorian! Shouldn't you be out hunting by now?" That one question opened the coffin lid, revealing the long mess of hair, which was rubbed sleepily. The one named Dorian finally stood up, legs wobbly as he walked into the kitchen, greeted by the faces of his guardians who were sitting at the table sipping wine. "I know I should, but I REALLY don't want to. I can go another day with human food, right?"
"Dorian. In order to sustain your powers, you need to feed. Marian and I are already having a hard time accepting the face that you feed every three days. It really should be every OTHER day at best." the male guardian narrowed his red eyes at the young ward. "Dragos, please. Don't be so hard on him. It's hard trying to find good sustenance among these fools in England." Marian told her husband. "Besides, the Romani were wiped out long ago, and you know that. Remnants of the bloodline remain scattered around the world, but there is no way that they would remember us.
"Not to mention, he is not a child anymore. Being a Dhampir is not easy, you know. Especially for him." Both sets of red eyes looked at each other. Dorian hated when they did that. It was like they were holding some forbidden secret from him about who he was. He accepted the fact that he was a dhampir half a century ago! The mood needed to be changed quickly, and the young man had the answer.
"That reminds me, tell me more about being Dracula's subjects. I apologize for falling asleep yesterday morning." Dorian stretched, yawning wide as his fangs were exposed. "Goodness, Dorian. you fall asleep at the most inopportune times!" Dragos laughed, pouring himself another glass of wine as their ward rubbed the excess sleep out of his eyes. So much unlike his father, the elder vampire observed. Dracula was never this lackadaisical. Cold and calculated was his goal, never to have a day off in any circumstances. Yet also a monster on the other side of his coin, willing to rip to shreds anything that stood in his way. Perhaps the same monstrosity lurked within the Dhampir. Dragos was sure of it, even if they had not told the young man about his heritage just yet. It was there, festering.
"Dad?" Dorian's confused voice snapped the elder vampire out of his thoughts, shaking his head briefly to get out the cobwebs and to begin to weave the story once again.
His readiness to tell the story was interrupted as one of their own servants had come in. The wounds amassing the servant were beginning to consume him. Silver poisoning. The three family members jumped up, ready to come to the aid of their servant, who stopped them before they could.
"The Master." the servant wheezed, the silver permeating its throat. "He…lives. He…hunts for… our own! He's…here!" The words ended there as the servant soon disintegrated into a pile of ash before them, silenced by the silver bullets that went 'clink' upon the ground. Dragos and Marian were frozen to their spots, Dorian looked frantically at the elder vampire couple, hoping to find some answer for escape. Searching their defiantly young faces for an answer he found none, instead finding a different answer.
"Dorian. Go. Go and run." Dragos commanded, Stern garnet meet pleading nephrite. "I'm not leaving without you two!"
"Dorian, run! Please. For your safety. Run. Do you have the necklace I gave you?"
In a fleeting moment of happiness, the Dhampir looked at his adoptive mother. "Choker, mom. Choker. I have it on right now."
"Hold onto it. It has answers to the questions you have had for years." Marian gave a fleeting smile before shoving her adoptive son into the back room and into the tunnel leading to the basement. Slamming the door behind him, the Dhampir looked on with a sad face before taking off, running down into the lower basement corridors. Clutching at the choker round his neck, he promised himself he would never forget them.
The vampire noble and his wife closed their eyes to prevent the debris from hitting their eyes as the door was busted open forcefully, sending splinters everywhere. They had not expected for the Master to be still alive after they had fled Romania. They had spotted the Van Helsing right away and stole away into the night with a swaddle wrapped in Marian's arms. But it was to be expected. They were defectors, nowhere to be seen after so long. But they had a good reason. Their good reason was now on the run and if Dorian knew better, the basement was the best place to go. Ultimate safety would be his there.
Dragos and Marian had accepted that the their fates would come to a gruesome end at some point. To what length they did not know. So when they saw the familiar ebony hair and tall, warrior like stature they knew it was their former master. And yet he was not. They asked no questions, and assumed the worst. Now in the servitude of the Van Helsing family. Taking deep unnecessary breaths each, they stared the male form of Atropos in the eye. "Well well. The ones that got away." their former lord said, disdain in his voice. "I'm surprised I even remember you two."
"We are surprised as well." Marian said softly, her head slightly bowed and maintaining eye contact. "It has been far too long, Sir."
"Not like it matters. None are spared by my hand. NONE."
They had accepted it. They were tired of running, and saddened that Dorian would lose the only family he knew. But they could never tell him, not their former master. He had to find out that secret on his own.
The "Room of Solace" was soon a room of grief for the Dhampir as the only parents he had did not follow behind him inside. Slamming and locking the door, Dorian looked at the room in sadness. Garnet amulets were strewn along the walls, as well as a holy symbol drawn beneath his feet. It hurt slightly to be in the room, but if Dragos and Marian could not set foot in it, what chance did Dracula have at stepping foot in it as well? "Dracula. You bastard." Dorian felt the tears come, the red droplets turning to white as they touched the holy symbol below.
His knees felt weak, dropping down as the holy power within the room seemed to amplify itself in the Dhampir's presence. The human side in him kept him from disintegrating on the spot. His breathing grew more ragged with every passing second. Blood. He needed blood.
If there was one thing about him that Marian and Dragos underestimated was that he kept little vials of blood in his pants pockets at all times. It kept him from having to feed all the time like Dragos wanted him to. Pulling one out of his back pants pocket, he popped it open, gulping down the crimson liquid quickly. Small streams came down his mouth for the blood that he missed, making him look as if he had just gotten back from a ferocious hunt. His strength slowly returned to him, able to stand once again. He needed it as he heard a large explosion close to him.
Dracula. He'd found his way down here! A voice called to him from the shadows; dark, sinister and amused. "A half-blood of my kind. How very rare. Perhaps Dragos had cheated on his wife." Dorian chose to say nothing, keeping to the wall furthest away from the door in desperation. Nephrite eyes kept sight on the door, expecting Dracula to open it in the most forceful way possible. but nothing came. Instead, the shadow of the door began to sprout eyes. Thousands of red eyes. The eyes of the Dhampir's nightmares. A snarl came to Dorian's lips as the eyes closed once again, the shadow rising into a human form. A form clad in Victorian style attire with wide-brimmed hat and vermillion glasses.
Alucard observed his newest target with interest. Most other vampires would be cowering in fear in his presence, or sometimes showing bravado until he released his states. Yet this one stood fast by himself, even as he was surrounded by garnet stones and a holy symbol beneath his feet. The room was mildly aggravating to the nosferatu, but he brushed it off, keeping his focus on the young man. "You, boy. What is your name?"
"Why the hell should I tell you?" the teenaged looking dhampir snapped back. "So I can have a very fleeting memory of you, at least." Alucard smirked, aiming the large, silver-grey gun at his target. "VERY fleeting."
Nephrite eyes met garnet ones obscured by vermillion lenses as they stared at each other. There was something about this boy that piqued his interest. Of what he didn't know. But he had a job to do, and if this was the last target for the night so be it. But that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun before heading back to Integra. "A boy of few words. I like that. Makes it easier for to not have to hear you talk."
"Hypocrite." the boy snapped back, making Alucard raise an eyebrow. "Heh. How true. But, I am offering you a chance right now. Prove to me that you are worth my time. Fight me!"
The Dhampir before him froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he kept his back pressed against the wall. Alucard was now growing more and more impatient. "Well? I'm giving you a chance. Prove to me that you are worth your mettle! Come on! Hurry! Fight me!"
The dhampir kept his mouth shut, letting a hand rise up to touch a garnet amulet hanging from the ceiling. The palm of the young man's hand began to burn slightly before it bled, not in drops, but in a stream to the floor, somehow coiling among itself. The elder nosferatu watched in curiosity as to what this Dhampir could do.