Leon wakes up. Leon argues. This is fine.
Leon came back to himself when his body hit something solid. Since the magic no longer swirled around him, he gasped, taking a few moments to simply breathe. The thing Leon ran into groaned, and he realized he'd knocked Trefor over. Either that or Trefor had tried to catch him, the wonderful fool.
"Sorry," Leon wheezed. The man under him grumbled. "Are... you okay?"
Trefor helped move Leon to the side so he rested on the floor. Then he asked, "Who are-? Where did you come from?"
Leon frowned. That, that was not Trefor. Blinking his eyes open, he sat up and turned as swiftly as he was able, the pain of the magical backfire slowing him down. The man who sat before him actually bore some similarities to Leon's friend-a strong jaw, straight, messy hair, and even a similar set to his shoulders-but it could not be. The stranger was clearly of the people of these lands, of the Byzantine Empire. Further, he was speaking an altered version of their local language.
Leon frowned, pulling his thoughts into place. He was used to speaking Latin with Trefor, since they both knew it well, but they had been putting significant effort into learning Romanian to make conversation with the locals easier. The language this stranger spoke, it was not Romanian, though it was similar. He hoped they could communicate.
He tried for a soothing smile and said, "I'm Leon Belmont."
"Bullshit," the man countered, and Leon was equally pleased he knew what it meant and displeased the man thought him a liar.
"That is my name," Leon insisted. "What is yours?"
Ignoring his question, the man said, "Leon Belmont is dead." He fully seemed to believe it, staring in a way people might if they'd seen a ghost. Well, not that Leon reacted as such anymore. Becoming a monster hunter had inured him to the strangeness much of the supernatural world had to offer.
"I am not dead. I am certain I would know if I was." After all, he had seen and fought Death, or a physical incarnation of it. When it came for him, when the Lord called for his appointed time, he would accept it, and no sooner.
"Or you aren't him," the man countered. With grace befitting a hardened warrior, he flowed to his feet, hand clenched around the hilt of a longsword. "How did you get down here? Why are you here?"
Leon frowned, standing slowly as he kept an eye on the rugged man before him. The man was tensed, ready to draw his sword from any aggressive movement, but beyond his wariness, still looked curious. Leon placed his left hand on his hip, cradling his own sword-a small part of his mind noticed how similar the weapons appeared-but made no moves to draw it. He was new to the area, best to make allies.
"This is my... cellar. My friends and I built it ourselves. It sits beneath my home. So the real question is, what are you doing beneath the Belmont Manor?"
The man's eyes hardened to match his voice. "I am Trevor Belmont, last son of the house of Belmont. So if you're going to sit there and pretend to be my ancestor-"
"Trevor? Belmont?" Leon repeated. His eyes swept over the man again, truly taking in what he saw: Muscles born of a life of fighting; bright, flinty blue eyes, one carved over with an old scar; straw-gold tawny skin, dirtied like a traveler; multiple weapons strapped to his body, from knives, to his sword, and- ...a whip.
It was not Sara. Though not the one Leon carried in his battle against the night, there it hung, strange and uncommon, especially made of metal links with a mace-like lash. Leon imagined he could feel the blessed magic on it. Whoever he claimed to be, he was at least a monster hunter.
An monster hunter who blatantly wore his family crest on his tunic.
"...Your act to appear as a member of my house is impressive," he said, watching a scowl slash across Trevor's face, "yet I am the only one of my house, especially in these lands. I have no children, not even a- a betrothed. I ask that you stop your charade and tell me your true name."
"That is my name," Trevor echoed Leon's earlier statement, his voice strained and clearly losing patience. "And I'm not the impostor who fell out of a magical portal into a secure hold built by my ancestors. I don't have anything I need to explain to you."
Leon narrowed his eyes. "Who here is an impostor? I will not stand for these accusations against me when I built this place with my own hands-"
"You stumbled into it with magic-"
"I was setting a ward to preserve Belmont texts for future generations-!"
"Of which I'm the last and only one so don't-!"
"Enough!" Leon shouted. His hand rested firmly on his whip, the anger and stress leading him to old habits in a subconscious attempt to protect himself. "I tire of your attempts to convince me of your farce. I am Leon Belmont. I have been building here for two years, since the year of our Lord ten-ninety-seven, and no other has claimed this land but me."
The man-Trevor's-eyes widened and his stance faltered, just a little. "One thousand... what?" Pausing, Leon watched as thoughts worked through his head. Trevor's free hand lifted and pointed one finger at where Leon rested his hand. "Your- your whip. That's... Vampire Killer?"
Leon frowned. "That is the primary purpose, the one I have sworn to, but I have not named... it."
"You traveled here with someone else?"
"Trefor." A sudden thought hit him, and he looked around. No welshman in sight. How had he not noticed his missing companion earlier?
"And your spell." Leon reluctantly pulled his attention to the hunter before him. "You said it was meant to, preserve? Or something."
"...Yes. To protect monster hunting materials from the ravages of time. Or at least from crumbling to dust."
"Shit." Trevor brought one hand up to run through his hair, harried. "Shit. Just my fucking luck..."
"Trevor, what happened?" The bright but worried call burst through the hold from above, bouncing through bookshelves Leon did not recall setting up. In fact, the whole place looked larger than it had before. Pushing the oddity from mind, he turned to where the sound of footsteps rang out.
A different voice came from the person who stepped around the corner, the force of it contrasted with preternaturally light steps. "Belmont!" they roared. Greying skin, a wolf's eyes, fangs. A vampire.
Hohoho, so now we get to the good parts. "ψ(`∇´)ψ Well, Leon and Trevor are getting along super well, and I'm sure he'll be friends with that mysterious vampire in no time.
Um, yeah, also bits of history. Hey, I'm not a historian, but neither is Castlevania, so I'm saying good enough for fic purposes. I spent waaay to much time researching anyway. Still, if something is wildly wrong, let me know and I'll fix it best I can. :3
Look forward to the next chapter my friends! New characters meet our wonderful time-traveler and everyone communicates effectively! d(゚ヮ゚ d)
