Simon Belmont sat upon a slanted rock. Having defeated Dracula, he was unsure of many things. Realizing that he had to look forward, unto the future, he thought solemnly, "Who is my family? I know I belong to the Belmont clan. We are proud warriors, but what is a FAMILY? My ancestors continued the lineage without a second thought. Do I... have a family? I don't remember my father much. I remember the face of my wet-nurse better than my own mother's. I was taught everything about being a warrior, about being a survivor... but I was never taught how to forge a family. Now that Dracula is gone, my sole purpose is to procreate. It feels almost demeaning. My life is worth nothing to my clan but to continue such a cycle. Is this truly right? How could it be?"
He was quiet for some time, pondering. Blood and death hung in the air as the young Belmont searched for answers within himself, "When I think about it, I am slightly unsure how exactly to mate. Why was I never taught how to be a father? I was bred for combat. Yet, it seems my most important purpose is creating another generation of Belmonts bred for combat. I am so ignorant. I do not understand this world. Such contradictions confuse me... I do not want my offspring to have the same life I have... this isolation... the horrors I've seen. I want any child of mine to have a better life than this. That isn't selfish, is it? No. Sons deserve fathers. Even a father as poor and unprepared as I am. My only hope is that they would forgive me."
Rising slowly, Simon felt a slight ache in his hips from sitting on the rock in an awkward position for so long. As his eyes viewed the rubble left behind in his wake, he closed his eyes, muttering to himself, "I realize now how easy it would be to lose my life. I have to be more cautious from on..." His scuffed boots protected his weary feet as he tread over the earth. He had been brash to seige Dracula's castle on his own. Only now that he narrowly escaped death does he appreciate patience. His light brown hair was matted with blood, making it partially crimson. His legs and arms were scraped and armor, torn and scuffed, barely hung on his body. Simon made his way a few steps before allowing himself to lie down and rest. He silently thought to himself, "What woman would want someone like me?" He felt half dead as his eyes sealed shut, forcing him to sleep.
Mist hung in the air circulating. The air was almost wet. It wasn't quite warm, but it would be soon. Summer was just around the corner. As Simon came to his senses, he looked around frantically. It took him a moment to recognize his room within the House of Belmont. The grounds now belonged to him, but he maintained servants to keep the home in working order. A soft hand pressed down on his chest, attempting to calm him. He felt the blankets of his bed shift around him.
"It's alright now, Simon." The gentle feminine voice whispered.
His light eyes rotated slightly to view the face the voice belonged to. Belmont already knew who it was, however. He knew her voice better than his own, as he heard it more often. The other give-away was her use of his given name. In fact, there were only three people to ever call him "Simon". Two of them were deceased, leaving the third as the only possibility. His heart immediately slowed and his breathing regulated upon meeting eyes with his wet-nurse. She sat up straight, beside his bed in an oak chair.
"Why must you be so brash? I thought... I thought I lost you." The kind, maternal figure had tears forming in her eyes.
"What... happened?" Simon mumbled weakly.
"As soon as I found you to be absent, I headed out after you. Thank God I got to you in time. Your soldiers are strong and loyal. Without their assistance, I would have been unable to return you to here." She explained.
"I didn't want... I want you to all be safe." He sighed.
"Simon, you have allies for a reason. Sometimes you need to allow them to help you." She scolded lightly.
Belmont closed his eyes grumpily, "I understand."
"If the Belmonts are to survive, you must live on. If humanity is to be protected from Dracula, you must live." She continued to scold him.
Simon knew she meant well, and simply listened to her. After a half hour passed, the young Belmont reached out, touching his finger to her lips. She gave him a light glare at the attempt to shush her.
"V-very well," the wet-nurse was rather flustered, "I still have to obey your wishes, Simon..." The kind woman of thirty-seven stood up to leave. However, Simon grasped her hand.
"I only wish for your silence... not a lack of your company." He explained. The woman, only fifteen years older than him, sat down again, watching him with a protective gaze.
"Then I will stay." She blushed slightly as he maintained hold of her hand.
"Sarah..." He breathed the woman's name.
"Yes, Simon?" Sarah leaned toward the bandaged man.
"Thank you." He whispered. With that, he faded back into a field of dreams. Belmont's grip on Sarah's hand released, and she smiled slightly, adjusting his bedding.
Her lips pressed softly to his forehead. The red pillowy lips left a bit of her scent lingering on his brow. Sarah smelled of vanilla, a smell that relaxes Simon like nothing else. Leaning back in her chair, she kept vigil, protecting her battered lord. Sarah held watch for hours. Not once did she allow sleep or fatigue to claim her. From time to time, a servant would visit, delivering her some sustainence and water. Her hair was light, and her skin was fair. As Belmont had matured physically, Sarah was often tempted to see him as a man, and not the child she nursed. However, his lack of intellectual maturity aided her in maintaining the maternal relationship with him.
She knew it was not his fault, however. He was made a slayer of evil first, before being taught the kind of person he should be. Sarah loved Simon deeply, as though he was her own son. But she was painfully aware of her responsibilities to him. Belmont was not alone in his thoughts, as Sarah knew that he had no knowledge of sexual acts. She admired his ironic innocence. Simon, a slayer of demons and monsters, yet without the touch of a woman.
As the days passed by, Simon recovered. His wounds healed or scarred over, and he was nursed back to proper health. His eyes cracked open one night as he felt a finger prod his cheek. He twitched, half sneezing. Sarah was in her night gown as she woke him from deep slumber. Placing a candle on the small dresser beside the bed, she got his attention quietly. Simon blinked slowly, adjusting his eyes to the dim light.
"Pay attention." Sarah whispered, quite embaressed by herself.
Simon tilted his head sleepily as he observed her dress gently fall to the floor. Sarah blushed as the candle warmly illuminated her soft curves. Drawing the covers away from the young Belmont, the woman mounted him carefully. She pointed as she moved, attempting to indicate what went where.
Simon was confused, until his wet-nurse whispered, "To give a woman your child, you place yourself inside her."
Sarah's face was beet red as she gently stimulated him, and demonstrated. Gasping in surprise, Belmont savored the pleasurable contact. His night instructor gently rocked her hips and bounced. The rhythmic movement easily overwhelmed Simon, who's body tensed and shuddered. He held onto Sarah, nervous as to what was occuring. He trusted her greatly, but questioned his emotions silently. He was happy to finally understand, but what started as a lesson quickly became more passionate. Sarah closed her eyes, accidentally allowing herself to be carried away. Her soft red lips met her lover's as they melded together.
The young Belmont would not lay still. He squirmed in excitement, finding himself atop hands held Sarah's smaller arms in place as he entered her more forcefully. Simon's movements were instinctual, but satisfied Sarah easily. The woman was forced to cover her mouth, stifling the moan that was about to slip through her lips. The candle light made Sarah appear more beautiful that she already was. The soft glow highlighted every supple curve, and any blemish in her nearly flawless skin was cloaked in shadow. Simon now taught her of a feeling she'd never experienced. Biting her lip, Sarah blushed and gasped as her mind entered euphoria. Common sense left her as she kissed her lover's neck. Simon returned the affectionate touch, and touched her breasts softly.
His hands made the wet-nurse's body heat up. She watched the young Belmont place his mouth against her in a similar fashion to the position he assumed as a child. His tongue shifted as his suckled gently. Sarah blushed as her warm milk found it's way to Simon's mouth once again. The smell of vanilla was thick, and Belmont enjoyed it thoroughly. Inhaling and exhaling through his nose greedily, as he swallowed liquid love from the breast of Sarah. The sweet smelling and tasting woman pet the back of her lord's head. Simon was soothed and comforted as he finished impregnating Sarah. They laid together, enjoying the other's warm glow. The result was unintentional, but Sarah had accomplished the task. She prayed that Belmont would simply understand what he had to do, but would not have any attachment to her specifically. However, Simon, having seen her curves and felt ecstasy, had no intention of letting that night be his last with his kind Sarah. He blew out the candle that had illuminated their love in the night. The pair soon succumbed to exhaustion.
The following morning, Belmont awoke, holding the recipient of his affection. Sarah stirred in his muscular arms, and as she met his eyes, she blushed brightly. Ashamed and embaressed, the wet-nurse donned her clothing, and walked away quietly. The door closed behind her and Simon worried that he did something wrong. His fret caused his feet to carry him after Sarah, who would now be pregnant with his child. "Curses. I have failed in some way... she could barely look me in the eye..." He pulled a loincloth, and wrapped himself before chasing his lover back to her quarters. In the aftermath of his journey, Simon had more complex issues that required immediate attention...