Title: No Regrets
Pairing: Carrie/Malus
Rating: R-M
Summary: Carrie is reminded of a promise she made long ago after she is driven from her home village.
Disclaimer: I do not own Castlevania N64. All characters associated with the game belong to Konami and Nintendo and whoever else has rights to them, and I make no money off of this.

Prologue

Carrie Fernandez stared up at the stars, unaware of the tears falling freely down her cheeks. The low campfire crackled merrily as though to mock her pain. It was all over. Dracula was dead, her mother was avenged, and she was no longer allowed in the village. The villagers gathered with pitchforks claiming she was the one who had brought the wrath of the monster down on them, and the deaths of their cattle, and any other abnormal occurrence. They drove her out of town and now she had nothing but the clothes she wore and the few possessions in her pack. The worst of it was that they were right, at least about Dracula's minions. She had brought the monsters to the village when they came looking for her magick.

There was nothing left for her and no where to go. The wind howled through the trees causing her to shiver. She drew her cloak tighter about her shoulders and lay down on her sleeping sack. She pulled the blanket she'd taken from her pack earlier over her body and curled up, trying to ignore the fact that she was sleeping on the hard packed earth instead of in soft the bed she would have been sleeping in this night had she not been declared a witch and her house not been burned to the ground as a result.

Her pack was lumpy under her head, but it was the only pillow she had at the moment. She closed her eyes as another wave of despair washed over her at the thought of what she had lost. She finally gave in and quietly sobbed herself to sleep. Carrie lay in such exhausted slumber that she never felt the presence that glided into her small clearing.

Dark eyes swept over the curled up form huddled inside the sleeping sack. The dying fire cast dancing shadows over the part of her face that was visible above her blankets. There were deep bruises under her closed eyes and tear tracks were drying on her pale cheeks. Her hair was almost black in the darkness except where the light glanced off the indigo strands. Her face had matured and lost a great deal of soft roundness that it held as a child, but it wasn't completely because of her age he mused. It was sharper than it had been when they were both children, part of that was likely due to the fact that she hadn't been eating well. One gloved hand reached out hovering over her face. Tempting. So tempting to touch her, to offer the comfort she so desperately needed. He could ease her pain, make her forget that there was ever a reason to cry, and then he could make her forget anything but the comfort he had brought her. However that would be… terribly unsporting of him.

Teeth flashed in amusement at his private joke. He crept forward with feline grace, shifting his black coat away from his legs as he crouched down. From one of the hidden pockets of his coat he produced a small piece of parchment that slid quite easily into the mouth of her pack. The barest tip was visible, as though the parchment had always been there and only the jostling had unearthed its presence. Carrie was a clever enough girl, she would notice the paper and when she found it she would have the directions to his village. Pale lips pulled into a smile, and as suddenly as he appeared in the clearing the tall figure was gone. Carrie shivered in her sleep as a cold wind passed through her campsite. In the distance a wolf howled.

##

Morning arrived while Carrie gathered the clothes she had washed the day before in the small stream beyond the trees to the east from the line of rope she had stretched between two trees. She buried her nose in the fabric and wrinkled her nose. Beneath the smell of the soap was the lingering scent of smoke. Carrie gave a small sigh, realizing it would probably take at least a couple more washings to completely dispel the acrid smell. She took her clothes and some more of the rough bar she had used to try and clean her clothes and headed back to the stream.

Stripping quickly out of the long shirt she was using as her nightgown she placed all of the items on tree branches within reach of the bank of the small stream. The water was freezing, and she scrubbed herself down as quickly as possible. Her hair slapped against her body, the wet strands clinging around her shoulders and hips. By the time she was done her teeth were chattering violently. Carrie wrung her hair out as best as she could so it would stop dripping over her freezing flesh. She hustled to the bank to snatch up her clothes and pulled the rough green material over her head grateful for a layer between her and her sopping wet hair. She was of half a mind to hack it all off at her neck as it was when she was younger, but she liked the weight of it and the way it framed her face. At least she did when it wasn't freezing.

She flipped open her pack to stuff the shirt back in her pack and began to root around the sides to see if she had any food left. There should still be some bread wrapped in soft cloth, and there were the apples she had snatched. Surely she hadn't managed to eat all of them. As her hands dug around her fingers brushed over something that rustled beneath her fingers. She paused and felt around for the source until she pulled a folded slip of parchment out.

The paper was worn and crinkled, as though it had been hidden inside a pocket forever. The ink was faded and worn. And address was written on the outside and she opened it to see where she could have gotten such a thing. She glanced at the signature and felt her breath catch in her throat. Malus. The script was childish and ink blots splotched here and there on the page.

Dear Carrie,

As you know my uncle has come to take me back home to my family's estate. I promised I would protect you, but being torn away from your side prevents me from fulfilling my promise. I fear I may never see you again, and I simply can't bear the thought. You have promised to be my bride when we are older and I am holding you to that. Please, please come to visit me whenever you feel like it. And if you do not feel like it before we are both old enough then I would appreciate it if you would visit for my sixteenth birthday. Surely that is old enough to be married? Write me whenever you get the chance, you're letters will always be welcome.

Forever yours,
Malus

"What a little charmer," Carrie chuckled to herself. It was a surprise that she should stumble across this now. She couldn't even remember receiving the letter; it was all so long ago. She looked at the request to see him on his sixteenth birthday. His ninth birthday had passed shortly before his uncle had appeared to take him back to his family. She had only a vague impression of a well-dressed older man in black in a style similar to Malus's own clothes. She glanced at the date on the letter and mentally calculated Malus's age from the reference point she had. She winced. He would be seventeen now. She had missed his request to be at his party by a year. And she hadn't so much as written to him in all this time.

Still she had no where else to go. She did have his address if he was still living there. Her fingers traced over the writing on the parchment, all thoughts of food forgotten as she allowed herself to become lost betwixt memories and plans. Perhaps she should go to him. Yes that is what she would do. The village he lived in was only three days away. She wasn't naïve enough to believe he was still harboring his silly little crush, but visiting him would give her a chance to apologize in person. And while she was there perhaps she would be able to look for work. She never noticed the feral yellow eyes that tracked her progress around the camp as she readied herself to set out.