Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Castlevania Symphony of the Night or any other Castlevania games. I am writing this fiction strictly as a fan of Castlevania.

Chapter One

In the brisk of dawn turning to night a young woman came to a close from her long hard hours of work at the stables as she marched down the barn to the gate with a pitchfork slumped over her shoulder and a saddle held in her other hand. She threw the saddle over a wooden ledge and set the pitchfork up against the wall then walked out the gate of the barn. Her fellow men workers were stood around outside the barn smoking their cigarettes laughing, howling, and conversing loudly while few challenged each other to arm wrestling and the rest of the remaining played poker with their newly attained pay over old grimy wooden tables.

"Hey Russell! Where the fuck is Serge?" Greta shouted at a fair distance across from herself.

"In a moment." Russell shouted back.

She looked over at her side at a distance where the men held their arm wrestling challenges. Two men sat across from each other over a barrel for the challenge. Both men struggled profusely with competition as the thick veins pulsated through their bulky biceps. Within a single moment one surrendered with all the men shouting their "Ohhhhhhhhhhh's!" while others applauded.

She looked at the competition with disappointment as she rolled the sleeves of her grimy tunic up above her elbow and marched over to the completion sight.

"Let me show you jackasses how it's done!" She shouted as she shoved the looser off his chair, took a seat then put her arm up at a forty five degree angle along the top of the barrel.

"Oh damn!" The crowd of the show shouted eagerly.

As the challenge began she let the adrenaline take the best of her; the knuckles of her hands shook, her bicep tensed, and her thick veins pulsed placidly through her hand. Within minuets, she won the challenge as the spectators shouted and applauded.

"Yep! You are a real lady!" Russell shouted.

"Damn straight." She laughed, "That's how it's done jackass!"

Suddenly a voice shouted from a distance calling Greta's name. She looked toward the source of the voice and saw that Serge was calling her. She got up off the chair and ran towards him. Serge was a gruff middle aged man who possessed a large stature in size and height. He handed Greta several shillings for her day's pay. She thanked her work manager, tucked her shillings into her leather bag, and then marched off.

"See you all! Tomorrow at dawn!" Greta said to her co-workers then marched off several blocks into the village as her rhythm chanted to herself in a pleased manner:

"Wicked times, Wicked times! Drink my last cup of dead body stew, paint my face creepy and say boo! Nobody knows what's in my box! Walk around town with my guts hanging out! Bark at the moon every time the wind blows! Why do I do the things that I do! Who are you? Fuck you!"

Greta spent the remaining late night at the local village pub. She walked in and sat nonchalantly at the end side of the bar adjacent to the window set in the corner. "Get me a beer." She ordered the bartender. She sat back in the stool and leaned her upper shoulder on the back rest of the stool with her legs dangling apart off the chair while she dazed out the window. The bartender slid the beer to her general direction in a giant stein of steel with the beer foaming to the top. She grabbed the stein with her left hand without turning her head and began to swallow the drink.

"Hard day today Greta?" The bartender asked.

"The usual." She responded nonchalantly. "I hauled hay, raked, and shoveled all day at the stables as always."

The bartender nodded in acknowledgement of the hard work of the young lady. "I have seen heavy blue flames erupt from that castle earlier today." She said to the bartender.

"That certainly cannot be the case for our early night falls and strange howls from the forests."

Greta's head remained toward the window while she contained the harsh flashbacks from her father's cult; the terrors and the hatred by their presence. She began to wonder if that castle far away upon that hill is the central command of malevolence.

"Possibly sir…" Greta responded slowly as she took another drink she felt her nerves settle from the horrid remembrances of her past in order to lay asleep for the night. Suddenly, she felt a set of large hands from behind her place on her thighs, "Why must a lady like you attain chastity beneath a masculine cover? I bet I know what's beneath those trousers." The strange man laughed in a gruff voice.

She grabbed the stein rapidly and slung it behind her into the face of the perpetrator. The strange perpetrator fell backward hard on the wooden floor. She swiftly jumped from her chair and turned to the direction behind her; The strange man laid on the floor groaning and writhing from the intense impact of the steel stein to his head. She kicked the man harder in the head then spat down on his beaten face, "If you intend to make yourself more of an ass, I strongly suggest you leave my presence. Otherwise, you will fail."

She gave the perpetrator one more kick as she shouted, "Get out!" The man quickly stumbled on his feet and fled out the door. The spectators applauded for the performance of the young lady. She went back to her seat and pulled out several shillings and placed them on the wooden surface of the bar, "Here's for the beer and replacement for the stein. My apologies." She directed to the bartender.

"You took quite a turn there young lady." The bartender laughed. "Maybe we could use you to turn away thieves and whatever evil may rise afoot, I have an immense amount of confidence for you!" he added.

"Possibly," She said while turning her attention out the window once again. "Get me another beer sir and some tobacco if you have any."

"Certainly." The bartender said as he grabbed the shillings and grabbed her a pipe, a few matches and another beer then placed the products in front of her. "Thank you." She quietly responded. She took the pipe full of tobacco to her lips, lit a match from the bare wood surface of the counter then took some puffs.

"You are certainly lady like." A strange man stated facetiously on her left side. She turned her head slowly and looked up at a tall man who possessed a relatively mature but youthful face with a fare complexion and a set of dark chocolate colored eyes all framed with wavy chocolate colored hair to his shoulders. The man was dressed as a village regular; a white tunic draped with a blue coat with burgundy linings around the collar and front. He had a weapon chained to his belt but partially hidden by his coat. His trousers were beige and his feet were suited with thick black leather short boots.

"Damn straight." The lady responded to the stranger as she took another puff of the tobacco and took another drink from the stein. "Where are you from young lady?" the stranger asked.

"Nowhere." Greta responded.

"You cannot be from nowhere nor under a rock could you now?" The man pressed.

"None of your damn business. So what is your place to me?"

"You know a source of evil? You appear to be hoarding a displacement inside yourself."

Greta looked back toward her stein and took another drink then stated, "Can I just say that fear and terror is wrong and I must slay away that before I can stop relying on alcohol to settle me asleep?"

"May I introduce myself my lady?" He asked.

"Go." Greta carelessly said while taking another gulp of the beer.

"I am Richer Belmont. My bloodline has slain the menaces of Dracula for sometime."

Greta showed a slight expression of intrigue as she turned her head over to Richer, "Greta Astaroth. So can you tell me what is happening to the castle up there?" She pointed to the faint image of the castle outside the window. "I have seen blue flames erupt." She added. Greta had a familiarity of Dracula from the private conversations from the congregations with her father. He noticed a slight shine of gold from her irises but thought nothing much of them.

"Evil must be on the rise again." Richer responded.

"Care for my company on the journey? I have some personal business in that area to attain myself. I'm not used to having gentlemen approach me, my apologies Mr. Richter" Greta said.

"Understood, you do well in your self defense. I suggest we head out first thing in the morning. Where are you staying Greta?"

Greta shrugged, "I camp out a lot and stay out in an Inn sometimes. I just work at the stables to get by. Where shall I meet you at dawn?"

"You must come and stay the night at my house to avoid confusions when time to leave."

"If you insist." Greta said as she pulled out a shilling and placed it on the counter for the extra tab then step down from her chair.

The two walked out from the bar and headed down a few blocks to the Belmont house. Richer opened the door for Greta to walk inside. "Are you home my love?" A woman asked from a short distance.

He acknowledged his presence to the lady shortly as she appeared into the main room and kitchen area shared in an open space. Greta paused for a moment at the wonderful smell of beef roasting in the cauldron over the fireplace and rich wheat bread fermenting in the wood burning oven. The additional scent of wood burning gave her pleasure and excitement for the young woman had been forbidden to eat well to ensure purity from becoming glutinous. She grew up only eating left over scraps of bread and meat with ashes covered on top.

"Greta, this is my wife Annette." Richer introduced to Greta.

Greta turned her head out of distraction and looked over at the gentle appearance of the woman; her face had soft features with blue eyes and a fair complexion. Her long blonde hair draped over her shoulders. Her dress was made from thinly woven cotton and colored a deep forest green which was suited in a plain fashion.

"How do you do Mrs. Belmont?" Greta nodded at the lady.

Annette smiled back and shook the lady's hand and replied, " Please just call me Annette." She briefly studied the young lady; despite the rigid barrier Greta presented, she could sense an unsettled child disturbed and terrorized buried deep in a young woman's body. Annette smiled to Greta in a warm and kind fashion.

"She has asked to accompany me to the castle. She has some personal business to attain at the dark lord's palace. I asked her to stay the night here at our house." Richer stated.

Annette glanced over at Greta's wandering eyes at a short distance; her deep golden irises shined brightly in the candle lights in the house. Annette became somewhat curious about Greta's unusual eye color for she had only seen such an unnatural color once. She began to wonder where she was from and wondered if she had any relation to the person she has known with the same color prior to seeing Greta. She started to suspect if the young woman has been the refugee that she has heard of from a close friend of the family not so long ago. She felt no fear or a menacing suspicion from the young lady but sensed to give gestures of kindness in a motherly way.

Annette politely nodded to her husband in response to his morning plans, "I will get her settled then for the night my love.

"Greta dear, let me take you to your room." Annette said.

"Oh that should not be necessary, I can camp outside." Greta responded shyly.

"No dear, it is not safe for you to be out in the night on this side of the village. Now come dear."

Annette walked Greta to the back hall and opened the door to a small modest guest room furnished with a twin bed with a window above, a round mirror placed on the wall, and a night stand. "Thank you Miss. That is very kind of you and Mr. Belmont."

Annette looked over Greta's shoulder from behind and noticed only a small satchel strapped from her shoulder and resting on her hip. Greta wore only an over sized grimy tunic with a pair of brown tight slacks with knee high black leather boots tucked over her trousers that were bucked with a thick black leather belt with a golden buckle. Her long chocolate colored hair tangled and waved in random areas of her head as she let it all draped her shoulders and back.

"Have you got any clothing Greta?"

Greta turned to her and modestly smiled at her, "I'm fine Miss."

"Oh my dear, but you surely cannot be. I have some clothing I have grown out from and needed to give away. Let me bring you some."

Greta thanked her kindly then Annette walked out of the door for the moment. She sat on the foot of the bed and allowed her eyes to wander to the crucifix nailed on the door inside the bedroom, "Hmmphh." She expressed then turned her attention to the window outside. She glanced at the pine trees that bundled tightly and the deep rust colored harvest moon outside the window.

Annette walked upstairs to her bedroom approached her husband quietly, "Richer, who is this girl? Where is she from? Is she homeless?"

Annette opened her wooden chest and reached around for her less needed clothing while she continued to converse with Richer.

"I have seen her spend her nights down at the pub. As she would drink and smoke, she would glance out that window in the direction of that Castle as if she tends to slay the evil within, I approached her; she only stated her name while giving an indication that she knows whatever lays up foot. She apparently works somewhere and rents out rooms at the pub every night." He explained softly.

"I have no doubt that you can decipher a person based on intentions. Richer, I have seen her eyes, have you noticed the golden colors of them?"

"Vaguely." He responded.

"I am curious to know if she is a refuge of the Astaroth clan. I remember hearing Alucard mention the Astaroth clan once. Do you think this young lady may know Alucard?"

"I do not know dear. You know how that man does not like to speak much of his profile." Richer stated.

"I see. Well my dear have you eaten? You must get to sleep soon; I will come to bed shortly."

She placed the clothing into a small woven basket, closed the wooden chess and walked out the bedroom.

Annette knocked gently on the cracked door of the bedroom. "Yes Miss," Greta answered. She walked in with the basket of clothing as Greta stood up from the foot of the bed. "Are you hungry Greta?" Annette asked as she handed the basket of clothing to Greta. Greta felt hesitant to take the offer of the chance to indulge in the rich and delightful smells of the food cooking in the next room; for her body hungered greatly for nourishment but the inhibitions of being needy or dependent caused her hesitation. Her stomach growled harshly and she could not take anymore of bodily hunger.

"Yes please, if it is not too much trouble."

"I tend to make more than what Richer and I usually eat anyway. Get dressed dear and you are welcome to come into the kitchen for some dinner." She walked out the door to leave Greta to her privacy.

Greta felt a rage of excitement inside her like a child invited to have some cake! For deep inside, the young woman had indeed a child broken and tattered buried deep inside her; she has yearned to feel the joys and excitements she was forced to miss out on growing up. She sifted through the basket and found a short black short sleeved dress woven from cotton with a pleated short skirt that fluffed the skirt slightly outward. She pulled off her tattered clothing down to her old white petticoat she wore beneath her clothing as underwear. She briefly glanced at herself in the mirror adjacent to her side to notice her full fledged physique. Her back, shoulders, belly, and legs had a highly defined muscular tone from her years spent working on manual labor; her frame was small but strong. Despite her small waist and rib line, her breasts and her hips were larger than the rest.

She quickly remembered the shame induced upon her growing up by the course words of her cult like persons for she was an early bloomer at the age of eleven. The terrified child asked her father what was happening to her; "You are indeed a descendent of the devil! You must repent you swine!" her father shouted in his gruff voice.

She could easily comprehend the tight clench of her father's hand on the child's hair and being drawn forth to the fireplace where he placed an iron rod into the fire to burn to its searing glowing composition and jabbed onto the neck of the child to brand the symbol of the Astarychian tribe which was represented by an "A" with curvy lines coming through the letter vertically. She can easily comprehend the scorching pain and sound of the sizzling bran deep in her skin and her shouts of agony.

She had access to books that she could educate herself on the anatomy of the female body, thus understand that the development was nothing to shame of, only the terrors of the cult haunted her.

She pulled out her flask from the inside of her tattered tunic lying on the bed and took a shot of her vodka to alleviate the terrors inside her head. She felt a strong but relaxing buzz come over in her head and body as she began to focus back into the present moment. She shuffled the dress over her head and body. She put on her leather boots and proceeded to put on cotton woven under shirt then put on the deep purple under bust corset that laced firmly on her body in the front. The tighter she pulled, the more her back felt strong and secure.

She took her trousers and tunic from the bed and rolled them up neatly and placed them back on the foot of the bed. She placed her flask under her tunic, strapped her leather belt that held her pistol, then walked out of the bed room door to the direction of the kitchen area.

Annette stood in front of the cauldron holding a wooden bowl as she served the hot stew into the bowl with a few thick slices of fresh wheat bread. "I hope you enjoy dear." Annette said to Greta as she heard her slow approaching footsteps come closer.

"It smells very wonderful Mrs. Belmont. I thank you greatly." Greta responded.

"Please sit dear."

Greta pulled out a wooden chair and sat at a small wooden dinning table. Annette brought the food to Greta then Greta began to eat profusely to quickly soothe her eager stomach.

"Your eyes are very unusual. I have only known one other person to have such serine golden eyes as you." Annette could not resist that comment for her curiosity just could no longer stay contained in her mind.

"May I ask who that may be?" Greta shyly asked with a hint of concern.

"A friend of Richer and I. He has slain demons at Richter's side as well as his ancestors. He is a very well misunderstood man but his intentions are always well. His name is Alucard Tepes."

Greta paused from chewing the delightful food and let her eyes wander around the room once more with an estranged feeling over her mind. She peer her sight to the fire burning in the pit but had to cower away from the sight; for every time she saw the sight of fire, she could comprehend her earliest memory of blazing fires, red skies, and screams of terror and agony. She quickly turned her head to her side and encountered a small painting placed beside the front door; the painting was of a young woman from the bust up who had long ebony colored hair which framed her fare skin and dark eyes. The lady in the painting displayed a relaxed look on her face without a smile. Greta noticed the lady in the painting has similar facial features of the almond shaped eyes, her slender nose, and voluptuous lips. Lastly she discovered the disturbing feature of the brand on the lady's neck same as the brand on Greta's neck. Greta felt her pulse elevate and her skin perspired with anxiety.

"Is something the matter?" Annette asked out of concern.

"Yes thank you." She strained her eyes back open and looked at Annette from across the table. "Mrs. Belmont…." Greta added.

"Yes dear?" Annette responded.

"Who is…that lady in the painting….." Greta strained.

Annette glanced over at the exposed bran scar on Greta's neck and an estranged feeling elevated inside her mind.

"That is Adrielle Astaroth. She was a friend to my parents for awhile until she was killed by the church some twenty years ago it all happened when Richter and I were possibly far too young to remember. My mother told me the amazing powers of healing and prosperity she possessed. Adrielle always used her magick to good uses only; she would even enjoy reviving tiny insects at many times. Adrielle was a very wise woman."

Greta's eyes turned wide