AN: And so, it begins. A new story from me. A Touhou fic, to be precise. It has been long since coming, and I have finally gotten around to starting with a new story, in a new fanfiction territory. To any of my readers from my other two Code Geass fics, if you happen to read this, please know that Emerald Caress will be put on hold for the moment, so that I can focus better on this and Crown of Love. To any new readers of mine, please enjoy my piece. For the moment, I will burrow from Castlevania, but this will in no way have any Touhou character traverse Transylvania to pwn Dracula; it is merely used in the backstory to further along the story itself. Since this is the prologue, I have to keep it mostly short.

Just so you know, yes, I finally got off my lazy ass to write more again, yes, I WILL write that Izayoi Sakuya story that I mentioned in my profile, yes, Touhou ate my soul, and yes, I am nuts for Remilia Scarlet. That's why I'm writting this in the first place. After all, Hausse de le Écarlate Lune quite literally translates to "Rise of the Scarlet Moon", mainly thanks to the fact I used a translator :P.

Warnings: Pretty much none for now.

Disclaimer: I do not own Touhou Project. That belongs to ZUN. I do not own Castlevania. I forgot who that belongs to, sorry, but fact is I do not own absolutely none of the characters or places that appear and may appear in this story, save for my original own I may make up.

Dark. Dark and stormy. That is how the world had been, doubly so, for the woman; Dark was her current fate, and stormy was the horizon; Dark was the night, and stormy as well, torrential waters cascading with lack of mercy upon the earth; Dark was the morbid feeling that pooled in the pit of her stomach, and stormy was the feeling of evil, as it threatened to engulf her. And dark was the lord of this cursed castle, and his malevolence reached over the lands like a storm; covering all under a blanket of shadows, and ever so expanding.

How could things turn out likes this? The woman questioned the wall with a whisper, and received only silence. Why did this happen? The woman asked of the stars high above the reach of the dark lord with tears pooling in her eyes, and received nigh an answer. Why her? The woman wailed, begging the Almighty for a reply, why was she ripped apart from her beloved like this? Why did the Dark Lord focus his gaze on her? Why did the Dark Lord invade their home? Why did the Dark Lord clutch her with his evil hands? Why did he spirit her away? Why? Why?! WHY?!

"WHY?!"

…The scream resounded, echoing in the room and out into the hallways, and surely so, throughout half the reaches of Castlevania. With the wind at his command, she felt she had little reason to doubt that it would whisper her words to the ears of the dark one. She thus, feel she had little reason to doubt that he would soon appear before her, and answer those questions himself.

…She would rather throw herself out this scarlet window right this instant, rather than face the devil himself again.

But alas, the woman lamented, this would not be. The room she'd been locked away in was elegant; dim and dark, but malevolently elegant. With a queen sized bed against the wall, an unlit fireplace, a finely crafted set of wardrobes, tapestries mirrors and paintings, the room she'd been placed in was lavish. Lavish, and, where it not for its location, comforting. But, once more, this was not to be; the room was dim, all manner of light in the room unaccounted for. The room was within the castle of evil, thus the room itself reeked of its lord's darkness. The room was, at the time, illuminated only by the light of the moonlight filtering through the great, scarlet window to her side, thus showering her form in red. Red, like the color of the blood that coursed through her veins, and the color of the life force that fueled the sire of the night.

But it also was sealed, sealed with powerful magic to warden approach to her. Powerful, dark magic, wrought by Vlad Tepes himself. She knew, that she could not escape the fortress alone; not this room, not the hallways watched by his demon servants, not the lands scourged by his minions, not the dark lord himself, and much less her sorrow. Only her beloved Simon could rescue her, and she had no idea where he could be. She did not even know if his lungs still breathed his air, if his heart still beat, if his life still burned like a raging fire.

Oh, Simon… how she would love to run her hands through his auburn locks again! She would love to gaze into his eyes, which were always filled with warmth and love for her, and whisper how much she loved him. And he would tell her he loved he back, and she'd laugh, saying how she already knew it, and then. And then they'd kiss, kiss like they've never kissed before, embrace as if fate's hands would attempt to force them apart, and let their passion reach newfound heights, as if the world itself was rushing to an end just for the climax of their eternal union. Yes, she would love that.

…But again, the woman pulled herself out from her dreams. Only if he would come for her, she would make those dreams reality. She had no doubt that he would come for her. She had doubt that he was still alive to come for her. And that uncertainty broke her heart.

She knew… She could use her power. She could use that ability that she'd never wanted. She could use that "gift from the gods" that had descended upon her young self one day. She could use that force that transcended the very fabric of space and time, that which would bend the nature of reality to her will. That ability to manipulate the threads of fate, to weave destinies, destinies that would best match her whims…

But she would not. She could not, use her power. A power that would heighten her to the stature of a divine… That she possessed. That, she used to possess. A power so great, that it set her apart from the rest of mankind. A power that impaired her ability to create bonds. A power that increased her ability to distance possible loved ones. That it was. Her parents feared her, terrified of the spawn that could kill with a careless thought through a chain of events. Her fellow kin shunned her; afraid of the one everyone called a monster. Her once-friends turned on her, unwilling to cope with someone so drastically different from the rest. And above all, she thought, the ecclesiastic group, the God's church, who scorned her, jealous of a mere youngster who had earned the "favor of God".

It was because of that curse, that she'd had to hide her face in shame for much of her life. She'd run and hidden from the world, begging and praying, that, if there really was a God, if someone really heard her constant prayers, that they would take away this horrible thing from her.

And it worked. After many long years, one day, it vanished. Just like that, without a trace, that curse vanished. She, skeptical, attempted multiple times to call on it, but failed, and each successive time, her hope grew, and finally, she realized, yes, it was gone!

From that day forward, she was truly grateful to God, for saving her from that aching misfortune, and so, made sure to offer him her gratitude for all of her blessings, and for the blessings of those around her, every time she had the chance.

A lost power. That power would have surely been helpful, she admitted with hesitance. It would have allowed her to, at the very least, know if her lover was still alive and well…

But before she could continue with her thoughts, she finally took notice of the fact that another being was in the room with her. With cold sweat forming on her brow, she slowly turned her head to a dark corner of the room, praying to God that she would not see what she knew she would see. And what she saw equated to the feeling of an ice-cold hand grasping tightly her heart.

Standing amongst those shadows was a man. He was tall and broad shouldered, bearing a slim, but well muscled form, elegant but strong, and quite regal in appearance. He was dressed in much the same way a prince would, but his a style no mortal would dare to imitate. He wore black armor that covered his legs, gold lining the layers. Chain mail and red armor bordering were visible beneath a black coat with a fade of red towards the back. The sleeves of the coat ended broadly and bordered in gold. From the area where the armor reached the neck, a neck-borne cloth the color of pearly ghosts came from. Over this ensemble, was a great, black cloak, the underside of which was red in color. On his shoulders where pieces of armor that were spiked, black as well. His cloak ended spreading outwards from his head, ending in what seemed to be fangs, blood red the turnout side.

But it was not his clothing that brought fear to the woman's heart. No, it was his face… The face of Dracula, king of demons and lord of Castlevania, the castle of darkness. The dark one, who was ruler of the night…

He was pale. That was the first thing of notice. Extremely pale, skin tone the color of the dead. His face was angular and well-defined, incredibly handsome if she were to be honest with herself. Dark gray hairs fell in a stream around his head, long enough to reach below his neck and into the depths of his cloak. A small gray beard, trimmed and rather pointed, was visible on his face. But the most distinctive features, where the blood red eyes with slits denoting his true, demonic nature, and the sharp fangs that were visible from the sides of his mouth, which was settled into a small, partly evil smile.

Cruel eyes and a devil's smile that were focused only on her…

AN: :P Guess who "the woman" is...