A/N: As it's predecessors, this chapter has been heavily edited. As I stated before, upon returning to this fic, I realized that I wanted to take it to a completely different place, which... unfortunately, lead to a great deal of revision. Thanks in multitudes for your patience in dealing with me!


"What is going on here?!"

The shrill and high-pitched demand of the Englishwoman cut through the quiet as she stepped into the lavishly furnished sitting room, shoulders squared in the typical fashion Walter had grown all too accustomed to seeing amongst the aristocratic. She dragged Alucard by the wrist behind her, leaving the girlish form of the vampire to flounder as she stormed towards the hearth where 'Father', 'daughter,' and 'son' stood. "Mr. Haring, are you quite finished lallygagging around this morning? We were supposed to have a meeting over breakfast at seven. It is now ten-thirty. Ana and I were waiting for you for hours!" This was all stated in record time and with the scathing tone of a woman scorned. If one didn't know better, they might be prone to believe that this was the worst of all transgressions ever committed against this woman in her lifetime.

Arthur was stepping forth, attempting to smooth the haughty woman over when Alucard withdrew her hand, smoothing the dress Walter couldn't help but think looked utterly ridiculous on a vampire, regardless of what form they had taken. "Mother," she said sweetly, resting a hand at Mrs. Pennington's elbow. "It's alright. Don't interject."

"No, Ana," she chided down at Alucard, sharply. Walter arched a brow. Ana? Mother? Don't even tell me that he is going along with this nonsense-- "Walter, I'm particularly disappointed in you. Aren't you interested in what we so graciously arranged for you in the least?!"

Walter found himself faced with the fury of a woman's wrath - and a puffed up woman at that, high and mighty upon her horse of an over-fed ego as she stared down at him from the length of her nose.

And he was at a loss.

She seemed infuriated at his silence, and gave a huff, turning to glare down at her 'daughter,' who was studying Walter wordlessly, impatience and displeasure glittering in her dark brown oculars. "Come, Ana. This boy is not fit to be wed to you. I'm sorry, Mr. Haring, but from this point forward, you should consider the marital agreement off." This said, she took Alucard - no, Ana, he growled mockingly to himself - by the hand and began dragging her towards the door.

Walter quite nearly choked. Marital agreement? To Alucard? Now he was certain he was trapped in some sort of nightmare.

Arthur started after her as Mrs. Pennington flounced through the doorway, the man shooting Walter a pleading look before trotting into the corridor. The Angel of Death tilted his gaze down to Charlotte, who was glowering in a pout, arms crossed and legs dangling over the edge of the chair.

"Aren't you going to go help your giiirlfriend?" She said haughtily.

Walter shot her a cold warning glare, but the girl merely gave a 'humph,' turning her head away and pouting. He made it as far as the door before she stopped him again, her tiny voice halting him mid-step.

"Wait!"

He stopped, but didn't turn. "What?"

"Walter…"

"What is it?"

There was a brief pause. "Walter, are you really okay? You're not being yourself."

He lowered his face, staring at his feet in silence before canting his head over his shoulder and gazing at her. She was looking at him expectantly, the innocence in her large brown eyes making him feel awkward and yet again at a loss for a response. What if this were more than an illusion… or if these were people also victims of a shared adversary? Puppets, dancing on the strings of their master? Hadn't Alucard alluded to something like that before? "I'm okay, Charlotte," he grudgingly said at last. "I'm just disoriented." He lightly touched his head, as if to write it off on the concussion he'd sustained during the course of his blackout.

She seemed relieved at once, a smile slowly finding her lips, and she nodded. "Are you okay now?"

"I think so."

"Walter?"

"Yes?"

"You still love Daddy, right?"

He felt uncomfortable, and averted his gaze, giving what she must've took as a nod, for she hopped off the chair happily and grasped him by the sleeve, smiling broadly. "I'm glad, Walter. Can we go upstairs? Daddy will bring Mrs. Pennington back soon, and I don't like her."

Though it effectively crushed any chances he would have to explore the mansion and see if he could sort out this mess, he had no choice but to agree. Perhaps the girl could give him some further insight into his circumstances. She seemed delighted by the opportunity to spend time with her 'brother,' and gave a little noise of glee, dragging him from the study without another moment's hesitation, the confrontation that had unfolded before her eyes already forgotten.

Charlotte had taken him to his bedroom, and the girl had gone as far as to bring him a cool cloth to place on his head, inquiring if he had a headache. When he answered no, she still insisted he lay down, reminding him what her Mother had always said. He didn't know what the entailed, but obliged her anyway. He still wavered unsteadily whenever he moved too quickly or suddenly; rest was not in and of itself a bad idea.

He must've dozed off to the quiet sound of her playing on his bedroom floor, for when he opened his eyes next, the fatigue and bleariness of sleep greeted him. Rubbing his eyes, he lifted to an elbow; the room was darkened. It was nearly night, and dusk painted the horizon deep shades of crimson and orange above the water, making it glitter beautifully.

His train of thought was abruptly severed as he realized he wasn't alone. Fingers instinctively twitched, but seconds later he remembered that he possessed no fingerless gloves here, and his gray-green eyes sharply fell upon the figure seated at the foot of his bed, and forced his vision to focus.

"Alucard," he said.

The familiar form of the vampire in his deceptively feminine frame sat at the edge of the bed, one arm supporting her as the other folded in her lap, over that white, frilly dress that did not befit a man masquerading in a young girl's body. She was frowning at him from beneath those dark bangs, deep eyes gleaming as they laid upon him.

"Are you alright?" She asked demurely.

"I'm fine," he said, touching a hand to his forehead and withdrawing the cloth that Charlotte had draped there what must've been hours ago. He distantly wondered where she had vanished to.

"You were calling out for someone in your sleep," she said, sliding closer upon the bed slowly, halting at an arm's distance and studying him in the growing darkness. "You must've bumped your head hard. They say you have a concussion at the least."

"How did I get it?"

"You don't remember?"

"Nothing after being freezing cold," he replied. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. Arthur seems to be brainwashed or under someone's influence. Have you managed to figure out where we are?"

"Arthur?" Her brows furrowed slightly, perplexity registering on that porcelain doll face.

"Alucard," he growled, lifting his head slightly to glare at her.

"Stop calling me that, Walter. It's unnerving."

"This isn't a game!"

"I know it isn't!"

"Then why are you playing with me like this? Is this what you wanted? To trap us in some kind of… illusionary world? Or are we being strung about like little puppets? Is this what you meant?"

"Walter," she said, her voice hushed, barely above a whisper as she reached forward and brushed the hair from his brow. The cool press of her palm at his forehead was somewhat soothing. It was then it donned on him.

He jerked a hand to hers at his head, pulling it into his lap and staring at it in bewilderment. There were no gloves, no sigils, no restrictions. He turned her hand palm up, then down.

"Walter!" She said more urgently. "Stop it. It isn't funny anymore."

"No," he said, staring at her skin unmarred by sigils, glove less and smooth, pale and beautiful. She was a human - she was Alucard, but she wasn't. Just another illusion, in this world full of them? His head throbbed painfully, and he rose fingers to his temples, wincing.

"Walter," she murmured. His eyes twitched briefly, then narrowed; she had slapped him. His cheek stung where her naked hand had made contact. She was staring at him, eyes smoldering beneath a frown. "I told you to stop playing these games with people. Especially after you went and got yourself hurt - this isn't the time for that nonsense."

He stared at her wordlessly. It was unnerving; this was Alucard's form, no doubt about it, yet all those vampiric features were now human, and the look in those eyes wasn't anything resembling nosferatu. He highly doubted that there was any possibility a creature existed strong enough to completely disillusion the No Life King. So, what was going on?

'Ana' crossed her arms over her chest. It seemed she wouldn't have the answers he sought. "On the slight chance this isn't another one of your pranks, I'm going to apologize for doing that. But I'm only sorry if you're telling the truth and have lost your wits from that stupid concussion." She peered at him side-long, almost pouting, but most of the fire had gone out of her eyes. "Go back to sleep, I guess. You should rest and get well, anyway."

He decided to humor her for now; arguing would apparently get him nowhere and fast. "Yeah," he said absently, his thoughts already traveling elsewhere.

She gave a half-smile, and Walter found himself thinking the unbelievable - wishing just once more to hear the taunting laughter of the vampire, an anchor in this strange and foreign sea he had no idea how to navigate… or where to even begin to try.