DISCLAIMER: As before, I don't own these two lovely bishonen. Or anything else in the Castlevania series. HERE THERE BE SUGGESTED YURI. LATER WILL COME THE YAOI.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Someone tell Richter I'm sorry for bashing him so much. Secondly, this chapter combines two of the three things I live for. Thirdly, were-bears. They don't appear in SotN, do they? I'm sorry, I was remembering Circle of the Moon last night and the were-bear was the first thing that came to my mind, so I went ahead and used it. Werewolves, were-panthers and were-jaguars just didn't seem appropriate for this kind of scenario.
Lastly, I go back to travelling in my RV tomorrow as my trip has nearly ended and I need to get to California so I can fly home -.- So this will be the last chapter from me for quite some time.

Cookies and love for Zel and Siberian for your reviews and happy-comments :'D They keep me motivated both fanficwise and artwise.

Discord

"Oh foolish mortal, did you really believe we were gone?"

Richter had been granted a week of peace, it seemed. Peace that was not quite peace, as ill tidings seemed to be rising on the breeze. The wild beasts of the forests were suddenly awake in these colder months, their howls and growls disturbing the sleep of all in the dark night. Crows and cunning ravens were gathering along the traveler's roads, clustering together on the skeletal branches of trees, their harsh croaking unnerving even the hardiest of wanderers.

Three days ago a great, monstrous bear had lumbered out of the forest and killed one of the village boys down at the river as the other children had fled, screaming and terrified. It caused uproar among the small community, and the instant Richter heard, he had taken Vampire Killer and gone to investigate.

What he had found there was none other than a were-bear. A beast of ursine proportions all clad in shaggy, blue-black fur. Perhaps the most terrifying of all the were-beasts that lived, the creature's strength was nonetheless more powerful at moonrise. Its claws spelled death to anyone who touched it, a curse would be laid upon any mortal body that survived even the smallest scratch. Where had it come from? There had been no monsters in the area for years…

He remembered how his body had tensed as the bear caught wind of his scent and turned, its maw reddened with blood. At its feet was a bloodied tangle of flesh and bone… all that remained of that poor boy.

"Where have you come from, creature?" Richter asked softly, slowly uncoiling the whip from his side. "Why must you and your wicked kind rise again?" He had stared into the bear's small, black eyes, seeing only heartless cruelty and anger reflected back. Had this beast once been human? It was assumed that all the were-creatures had been some time long ago. But it was too late for this one either way. Vampire Killer was practically singing in his hand as he lunged at the creature, dodging under its flailing paws and lethal claws, striking it hard. Flesh sizzled as a wide, bloodied swath appeared across its belly, and the beast roared in pain as Richter leapt nimbly away to begin his assault afresh. It was not long before the creature was felled, its dimming eyes never once losing their expression of hatred and rage.

As he watched it die, he couldn't help but feel a sad sense of irony. How tragic that once his dreams had finally ceased, a monster had appeared in the waking world again.

--

Yes, it had been nothing more than a short repose. He would later hear that similar incidents were beginning to occur all over Walachia. Young men were disappearing from the towns to the north, they were often found far, far away lying dead as though asleep, their faces twisted in grosquetely happy masks. Terrible little imps had made their presence known, setting fires to crops and homes alike. These were thankfully easily placated with saucers of milk. Travelers that had once walked the wagon trails between the towns were growing fewer and fewer; those brave enough to make the journey more often than not ended up face down in a ditch with their bodies covered in strange wounds. Even worse, sometimes they simply disappeared and could never be found again.

The people of his own village lived in constant fear that another bear or some other more hideous beast would come to destroy them. Worse still, tongues wagged and witch hunts were on the rise once again. It made the populace feel safe for a little while, gave many the opportunity to rid themselves of their enemies. Richter's stay at Castlevania had not been forgotten by a black hearted few, and rumors began to rise that the demons were on the prowl for him, to take him back to the breast of their dark master.

He had adamantly denied this claim with more than a little anger, but he was backed by Annette and his friends. In order to prove his integrity he had began a sort of patrol, walking the perimeter of the town with Vampire Killer in hand, his eyes towards the trees in case any other beast should arise to smite them. Many times a day he was sent dashing into the forest after some child thinking it were a warrior, or after someone's hound that had gotten free of its kennel. Often he'd be sent in anyway because someone had thought they'd seen a werewolf or other such beast. It was tiring work. He barely had a moment to himself any more, and he found he had no time to rest, no time to think and muse as he once had. He missed Annette, but at least they were together in the evenings, still sharing the day's stories, now sharing the same bed once again. It was small consolation, but he knew his life would be at stake if he refused to keep an eye out for monsters. The superstitious and the fearful refused to forget.

--

He was bone weary that night. He had no idea how he had managed to stumble up the steps to his own front door, he was so tired. A few of the more terrified villagers had roused him before the sun came up, saying they had heard strange things in the night. Today he had chased after two children wanting to play hero, and killed a half starved wolf that had happened across him in the forest. Annette must have noticed something, for when he raised his eyes to look at her, he saw only concern and worry on her face. He waved off her invitation for supper, wanting nothing more than to go straight to bed. He was exhausted.

The warm bedroom they shared had never looked so inviting. Richter barely had the energy to kick off his boots and shed his coat before dropping like a stone into the mattress. He didn't even notice as Annette slipped into bed beside him; his body had fallen into thankful slumber the moment his head touched the pillow.

--

"Oh Belmont, are they working you to the bone? My, but this is only the beginning…"

"You are no match for him, mortal. His mind is stronger than your mind. He will take you yet…"

He was running down the vast, bright halls of a familiar castle, the uncaring marble echoing every footfall. Something dark and terrible was pursuing him; he could feel its presence behind him, following his every step. But he had walked this castle before; he could remember the way out. Yet it seemed like wherever he turned, the twisting gallery was the same or so vastly warped he became lost and disorientated. Cold laughter sounded behind him, a light touch on his arm made him flinch and run all the faster.

"Why do you run, Belmont?" Came the chilling whisper. "You will be mine in the end. Come to me."

Panic spurred him on. He was running blindly now, taking any random turn and passage, a sickening feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Look at me, Richter. Let me see your face again. Let me hear you scream for me."

"No!" He gasped, breath escaping him in choked sobs. He knew not where he found the strength to continue to run, every muscle in his body was screaming out in exhaustion and pain. "Never!"

He leapt over low walls, ducked under wall hangings, his loud footfalls giving his position away every time. But he didn't care. His desperation and growing terror overruled all logical thought. Eventually this terrible darkness would tire and leave him be... it had to, it must...

He rounded a corner and found himself facing a long corridor. But at the end stood an open doorway, a metal grating all covered in bloodied spines dropping from its high arch. He had faced danger like this before, spikes did not intimidate him. He ran for it, leapt into a sliding dash, his heart racing as he feared for a moment that he had been an instant too late... but suddenly the grate clanged into place behind him, catching only a scrap of cloth from his coattails. He had been successful, but barely.

There was a sigh from behind him, and the cold voice now carried an air of boredom and resignation.

"You win this time, Belmont. But do not think your escape has not gone unpunished. Look before you at your tomorrow."

And Richter, breathing hard, did just that.

What stood beyond the high entrance arch of the castle was his own village. Except it was a village aflame, tongues of fire completely engulfing the small, humble buildings. His eyes grew wide as fresh terror engulfed his heart. Time seemed to quicken, the flames spread, the cries of the burnt, the dying echoing in his ears. He tried to run towards the flaming ruins, but his legs would not move. He closed his eyes so he would not have to see all that he loved razed to the ground, but it merely amplified the villagers tortured screams and cries for help. He struggled. He willed himself to run. Willed himself to move. And suddenly he was racing towards his home, even as the last of the fire flickered and died, leaving only a burnt shell behind.

He ran hither and thither down the streets, calling for survivors, calling for his friends, for Maria, for Annette. He was shivering terribly at this point, shocked and terrified, fleeing one nightmare only to be faced with another. All he found amongst the smoldering timbers were shriveled, blackened forms. Charred remains of what were once his people. He screamed Annette's name, following ash strewn streets to his own abode. No charred, lifeless doll was there. But she could have been anywhere when the fire struck...

"All this will come to pass, Belmont."

He jumped as the soft, sultry voice spoke behind him. He whirled, finding himself faced with a creature of voluptuous charm and seductive beauty. Clad in nothing but a bustier, her crimson locks framing her clever, pointed face, the succubus stood across the dusty street from him and clasped in her arms, shivering with fear was a terrified, but very alive, Annette. He cried out, hand flying to his side for a whip that was not there. The creature laughed, carding slender fingers through his lover's hair. Annette struggled weakly.

"She's such a pretty one, isn't she?" She laughed softly. "How highly do you value her life? Would you pay me with your body to get her back?"

"I don't deal with the likes of you, demon." He snarled. "Let her go."

He was answered with mocking laughter. "Let her go? My, how can I trust you with her? You're so savage towards me. I don't want to give her up. I like her too." He watched, feeling sick disgust as the she-demon nosed Annette's hair, ran her tongue up the other woman's neck. "Such pretty hair... soft skin..."

"Enough!" He roared. "Leave her be!"

The succubus raised her head and gazed at him, a smile filled with amusement crossing her lips. Her eyes were mild, almost bored. "I'm afraid I cannot, Belmont. My lord has deemed her the first to die." She reached into her bustier, drawing a slender blade from between her breasts. Richter's eyes widened, fear tugging afresh at his heart. Unarmed, he ran at the she-demon, but in a swish of wings she had dodged aside, laughing softly and cruelly.

"You can do nothing against me unarmed, fool." She giggled. "But watch! I don't want you to miss an instant of this show!"

He cried out, seeing the tears in his beloved's eyes, hearing her whimpers, silent pleas for help. He had failed everyone else in his village... he could not fail her. With another roar born of frantic desperation, he launched himself at the creature again. This time the succubus did not move.

"Time be still!" She cried, raising her hand.

Richter could not have known a moment of fear so pure and intense as what he felt in that instant. What was this? How could a low level demon such as her be able to freeze him in place so completely, rend him completely and utterly immobile...? He struggled, he willed his body to move and respond again. He screamed and swore and wept, even begging the she-demon to spare Annette's life, but he could not close his eyes to the horror that unfolded before him.

With languid ease, the succubus took the slender blade in one hand, using the other to draw Annette to her breast. She kissed the other woman upon the cheek, pressing the dagger to Annette's throat an instant later.

"She's too pretty for me to make her suffer." She sighed. "Even though my lord asked me to draw it out to the very end... make sure that you witness a wonderfully bloody, brutal death... I cannot." The she-demon's fingers caressed Annette's face lightly. "Don't worry; this will be a clean kill." Annette struggled afresh, desperately trying to get away from her would-be slayer. "Goodbye." The succubus murmured a second later.

The blade flashed brightly against the pale skin of his lover's throat, Annette didn't even have time to scream. Time seemed to slow as her eyes widened, rolling back until only the whites showed. She would have crumpled and fallen, but the succubus held her by her hair, keeping her upright. Bright blood splashed to the ground, thickening as it mingled with the ruined ash...

And Richter screamed, terrible and anguished, his body unmoving, his anger and grief so great. Annette's name was on his lips even as tears spilled from his eyes and he felt his body begin to move again. But something was happening, the dream was fading. The succubus' triumphant grin was melting from his vision only to be replaced with something else...

His own grief-stricken screams brought him back to the waking world; he could feel wet tears upon his face and something else... his face stung. He touched his cheek to find gouges from his own nails, fingertips reddened with his blood. He gasped, turning his head to the side, only to find Annette was not in bed beside him. Terror clutched at his heart as he sat up quickly, looking wildly about the room for her. It was only after he'd listened to the sound of his own panicked breathing for a few moments that he relaxed enough to look about a little more carefully. It was then that he found her.

She stood across the room from him, her body half hidden behind the open doorway. A small bedside lamp was clasped in her hand; it cast a weak orange light into the shadowed room. He felt weak with immediate relief, but it was short lived as he looked carefully at her face in the candle-flicker gloom.

Beneath the contorting shadows, there was only pure terrified fear reflected in her eyes.

The succubus generally tends to fill me with more erotic joy than one can imagine (Waitwut? No! I don't mean that). Of course, if I'm going to use her, I'm bound to milk her for everything she's got =w=
Also, her strange Zephyr-esque ability there will be explained later. I promise.

Adrian had a massive panic attack when she noticed this chapter was more than 4 pages long on Wordpad. Forgive long chapter for being long.

Also, I'm no good at writing death scenes, evein if it IS only a dream sequence. Please forgive.
R&R too! I'd love to know how you think I'm doing... xD;