Scene 1

Young Nobleman of Sadness

The whip snapped out like a flash of lightning, its wielder, Richter Belmont, grinning widely. The target, Trevor Belmont, nimbly stepped aside however and retaliated with a whip strike of his own. His' missed the mark too, as Richter performed his famous Belmont leap and landed behind a fountain. Pulling the whip between his hands as was characteristic of him, Trevor stepped to the other side of the fountain.

For a moment Trevor felt the past and present merged—it was not Richter Belmont that stood there...To him, it was another man. A man of golden hair and eyes, pale face. A man that bore some characteristics with him. His shook his head of brown hair, trying to dispel the image. It disappeared as it always did, but with great difficulty.

The water from the fountain partially concealed both Belmonts' faces. Slowly they circled the fountain after one another like two hands on a clock chasing each other. When Richter's whip flew across the gushing water, scattering it like broken glass, it encountered Trevor's. The whips rebounded and sent the water splattering on both vampire hunters.

Trevor's blue eyes met Richter's. Then they both burst out in laughter.

While the younger Belmont's laughter continued on for several minutes and kept him bent over, Trevor's ended abruptly as his mind careened back to the past. He remembered little of his father. The man was cloaked in mystery. But there was enough from his days of fighting aside him and then their brief struggle in the Clock Tower to torment his days.

Enough to remember the feeling of plunging the blade into the dhampire's heart...

A hand fell on his shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?" Richter asked.

Trevor brushed it off. "It's nothing." His own hand lightly touched the space above his heart, remembering a time when he'd been stabbed there. He'd barely survived...His father had not been so fortunate. Richter's face contorted, concerned, so the older Belmont lifted his whip, tightening it. Effecting a smile he didn't feel, he said, "Let us get away from the fountain, yes?"

Richter wrung out his shirt and Trevor did likewise. Then the two vampire hunters walked for a few minutes towards the Tepes Mansion. They came upon an empty courtyard and resumed the fight. Trevor attacked first, spinning his whip before him for momentum briefly then letting loose. In classic Belmont style Richter back flipped then his own whip whirled out to his opponent. Trevor was caught unaware and his next strike was rendered ineffective.

Breathless, Trevor responded with a few short attacks. Deflected. "You are not without skill."

The other Belmont laughed, that easy smile he was known for in place. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

Not favoring Richter with an answer, Trevor cracked his whip then launched into one of his patented 'tornado' attacks. His concentration faltered again though and the cycle ended prematurely. Richter capitalized and latched his whip around Trevor's wrist forcing his opponent to surrender the whip. It was hardly the end of the match that either expected. Richter boasted that he was the better warrior but even he was hard pressed to say that he'd imagine Trevor to fall so easily.

Hands wrapped around his torso, Trevor gazed out across courtyard his blue eyes taking in everything yet his mind registering nothing. He did not care for the fight, not really anyways. Normally the idea of facing a great vampire hunter like Richter would intrigue him but right now his thoughts were far away. Back in the Clock Tower with his father, the man's blood on his hands, his heart beating its last...

"You got to stop doing that to yourself. You're going to go crazy." Richter stood by his side, passing the man's whip back to him. Trevor took it without really noticing it. Frown lines creased Richter's forehead, his easy smile gone. "You can't help what happened. I know that. Maria knows that. Adrian—"

"Is dead." It felt so weird to say that even though it had been months. Month of self-incrimination, months of hellish guilt. Part of him almost, if but for a moment, felt the dhampire's presence, like he was watching over them. The rational part told him that he was losing his mind. Trevor shook his head again, hands tightening over the whip. "Whatever you say will not remove the stain of blame from me."

Richter let out a sigh. "Come on, man, you got to let it go. No one blames you."

"I blame myself and that is enough."

Richter had no answer for that. The wind stirred both their heads of brown hair and their leather clothing in rhythm. Richter was right, of course. The more he dwelled on what happened the greater chance of him being felled by a beast that was neither zombie nor skeleton or Dracula himself—he'd fall to guilt. Adrian was lost to them, and the sooner he'd accept that the better. But it was so very hard...

They'd put off any funerals in the unrealistic hope that Adrian would suddenly, miraculously reappear. When it became apparent that wasn't happening Maria had reluctantly agreed to a brief gathering in honor of her late husband. The banquet had been bittersweet. Speeches of adoration, gifts to all of them, deepest condolences...Trevor could barely stand it. Maria had not shed a single tear, her face seemingly carved out of stone, but he'd seen the pain in her green eyes. Richter had cracked jokes but even his voice was flat. Annette had wept and the twins were constantly asking when the 'golden warrior' would return.

No, putting his father out of his mind would not be so easy...

"Let's give it another go. I'll even let you win this time!"

Trevor laughed, willing himself to respond. "No need to try—it comes naturally to you."

The two vampire hunters spread apart, giving room to gauge one another. Despite what he said, Richter did not hold back, his whip fast and furious. Trevor matched his stride, his whip encountering Richter's and deflecting it. Then he spun into another of his tornado attacks, forcing Richter to give ground. His opponent was not to be defeated so easily however and proceeded to shower his opponent with whip strikes left and right' the sheer ferocity shook Trevor out of the attack.

Immersed in the heat and immediacy of battle, Trevor could forget his pain and guilt. It was part of the reason he'd agreed to them. Richter claimed that they should be ready for whenever any of their enemies should return. It was sound logic and Trevor could not dispute it. But that was only partially why he agreed. The older Belmont needed this freedom from thought, from self-incrimination.

The freedom was short-lived. Flicking his whip low, Richter tripped Trevor. The vampire hunter went down with a gasp, his own whip flying from his grip. A shadow draped over him—Richter's, his hand extended in an offer to help Trevor up. As much as he fought to keep the memories from surfacing, the vampire hunter couldn't help but think 'Is this how Adrian felt as I stood there, not while reaching out with a hand but with a blade posed to pierce his heart?'.

"You're doing it again."

Trevor scratched his head and shrugged. Declining the offer of a hand up, the vampire hunter climbed to his feet, claiming the whip as he did. The vampire hunter brushed the dust off with a brown-gloved hand. No matter how many times he reminded himself of how his living in the past was killing his present, Trevor couldn't free his mired mind from the hell of that moment. The moment he'd...

"Hey." Richter waved a hand in front of his sparring partner. "Snap out of it."

"Sorry...I just..." With a sigh, Trevor gazed out into the gray morning sky. It fit his mood perfectly. "I'm afraid I'll have cancel our practice today. I cannot...concentrate."

"Don't worry about it...We already know who's better anyway."

That comment did exactly as Richter had planned—it drew his friend out of the morose mood long enough to playfully punch him on the arm. Richter gave a mock cry of pain and donned a hurt expression. Trevor smiled. He appreciated the carefree nature of his friend...and descendant, truth be told. How it should be that a man three hundred years younger than him would be his sparring partner was so beyond possibility Trevor couldn't formulate an explanation.

Shaft probably had an answer for that, but not one he was likely to enjoy.

"Come on," Richter said as he rolled his whip up. "Let's go find Maria and head to my place for supper. Annette will have my hide if we're late."

Trevor smiled and nodded, pretending to be interested in the other man's tales of his wife's temper and the energy of his twins. The various animals that visited the Tepes Mansion, squirrels and birds of all sorts, fled at their approach. Leaves floated past, one even slapped into Richter's face, causing both Belmonts to laugh. Richter kept up the chatter, giving his friend a good-natured elbow once when the other man failed to answer to an inquiry.

Why wasn't I able to break free of Shaft's spell before I struck that mortal blow?

"Maria?"

Torn from his black thoughts again, Trevor followed Richter's concerned gaze. Still clad in the green gown she'd worn at the banquet the night before, Maria ran down the steps of the mansion. Her golden hair hadn't been brushed. Tears streaked her face and it startled Trevor to realize that the tears were not of sadness—but of glee!

"Richter! Trevor! I—I—I!" Maria gasped as she hurried to them, nearly tripping on a strewn branch. Richter helped steady her, giving Trevor a confused look. Trevor, however, had no answers for him, his blue-eyed gaze going to the vampire huntress. She coughed for a few minutes before choking out "I've seen him!"

Him...No name was needed.

Richter and Trevor exchanged glances. What Trevor felt inside was written all over the other vampire hunter's face—Maria was going mad with grief. She'd been so strong through it all. She was just newly a wife; too soon to be widow. The sight of her wild hope stabbed into Trevor's heart just as surely he'd stabbed his father. Just one more sin he'd have to learn to live with...

"Maria, that can't...that just isn't possible. I'm sorry."

"I saw him with my own eyes! He played the piano...and smiled at me...and kissed me."

"It was a dream Maria, brought on by the portraits of him at the banquet. Nothing more."

Again guilt scrapped along the soul of Trevor Belmont. To see the pain and the despair cloaked in hope...and all because of him. Oh how he dearly wished he could trade places with Adrian—die in his stead. Adrian had a wife, a life, those that loved and depended on him. What had he? All Trevor had was now ash and dust, all he knew and loved buried. The merciless touch of encroaching time.

What was the point of his existence?

Maria was openly weeping now and not with joy this time. She kept protesting that it wasn't a dream but her faith faded. As gently as he could, her brother-in-law led her back up the steps to the mansion. He threw Trevor a sympathetic look, designed to consol. Because of the earnestness in the expression, Trevor forced his to be calm though inside his heart was in turmoil. No need for them to see that any more than strictly necessary. He'd done enough damage...

Alone in the courtyard, the vampire hunter slumped onto the edge of the fountain. He eyed his hands. The leather gloves frayed from his many bouts with the creatures of the night. In his mind's eye they discolored becoming a sharper, brighter shade—that of crimson, that of blood. His father's blood...

His hands started shaking.

"What kind of monster slays his own father?" he whispered to the winds.

Was that the reason he was brought back? To murder his own flesh and blood? Trevor took a few calming breaths. Richter was right. He kept replaying his pain in his mind, the moment...How was he ever to heal if he kept doing that? But, then again, how could he escape this prison of pain and guilt? Time didn't always heal all things...

Trevor sighed and rose, hands dropping to his sides. If he could just get through today perhaps tomorrow would be less torture. They said that guilt does subside and pain does ease, after all. The vampire hunter had a hard time believing that right about now, his gaze drifting to the image of his own face: haggard, worn, bent, broken...

That was to be expected, he supposed. What he had not expected however...

Another face. Of golden eyes and hair, pale face...

"Adrian?" He spun around.

But he was alone in the courtyard with only the wind to answer him.