Scene 3
The Ebony Heart
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Adrian shivered. Incessant water splattered onto his shining forehead. He tried to awaken but in his disoriented state, the former Prince of Darkness was fortunate to remain conscious as it was. His breathing came stifled in such a stifling chamber, salty liquid tempting his parched lips. Water? Was he still within the bowels of the demon castle? Had Castlevania risen...again?
It did not seem impossible. It could be chained to the prime material what with its unwillingness to relinquish its hold on this plane of existence. Every century the sinful abode remanifested itself in this realm as component of the curse of Dracula. Still, a hundred years had certainly not passed. But here it was, evil flowing from the ancient brick walls, such that the Bible and the holiest of waters could not overcome. And now he was prisoner within its walls again.
Coming to a half-sit, the nobleman wondered as to his arrival. This section of the castle he did not recognize. What...Ah, yes...He had been running in the dark entrails of Castlevania for hours, unable to find an exit. Eventually, exhaustion overcame him and Adrian collapsed. Now he sat, propped against a wall, naked save for a drenched nightrobe. The meldowed walls gave off a most repulsive stench. The stench of evil.
Damned he was, in every sense of the word.
The accursed keep revived entirely too many unpleasant memories. That it was present at all was beyond the realm of possibility–then again, Adrian himself was an example of conquering the insurmountable. Pain, of a sort he had thought banished, washed over him...
..."For what profits a man if he gains the world but loses his soul?"...
..."Your father is ahead. Will you forgive me for his death?"...
..."You seem human and yet....What are you doing here?...
Will I ever be free of it?
It was the kind of thing that could root itself into the mind and drive a person to lick...meldew...off the walls. Well, maybe not these walls...
Indeed damned.
Voices. In the distance. Adrian strained to better hear. Inside a peculiar sensation had invaded his phsyical and mental being. It tossed his ordered mind into chaos. Had they drugged his father's blood?
Adrian knew they had not. With as much as certainty he was well aware of the fluctuations of his body and mind. The old urge, as intense as pain and as irresistible as sex, drove into him. He moaned in half-pleasure and half-agony, extending all ten fingertips to massage his head. Every nerve burned.
Burned with lust of blood, the sweet nectar of mortals. Oh, this was a drug alright–and he had become addicted once again...
Again the memories fluttered in his subconscious. Running through the myriad of this malevolent keep, more than once he'd slipped in the muck, going down and wanting nothing more than to stay down. The former half-breed's mind was a blur, like someone had blindfolded him and spun the blond nobleman for hours. And in the core of his stomach, fear writhed as the Scylla itself.
The bloodlust had been resurrected.
Adrian no more; Alucard once more...
"No!"
No...
No...
No...
It echoed among the cold walls in mockery as a bitter wind.
Adrian burst to his feet, unable to bear his own thoughts and fears any longer. Trapped though he be, the young man would run until his heart arrested within his chest before surrendering. He hated Castlevania, the source of his curse. It would swallow Adrian whole, if it could. As I was conceived within these walls, shall I perish here, as well?
Blazing past dripping, web-infested corridors he fled as one possessed. The antechambers shed only the most minimual of light, that of an unsubstantial disk of a moon. Any other man might have lost his mind under such persecution. But Adrian was not any other man. He'd conquered death–quite literally–and life. In Maria he'd found happiness and love. The nobleman would fight to keep all that he'd acquired.
Several times he lost direction, retraced his steps only to return to square one. Several times he collasped to the sludge and slime flooring only to rise to tired feet once more. Then Fate shone benevolence upon him.
Adrian spotted a trail of shattered moonbeams. His golden eyes shut with relief. Strength returned to his weakened physical and mental state. Crossing the distance within a few strides, he exited through a wall crevice. The moon guided his path as the blond man hurried to the grove of dark trees. There he fell to his knees, exhaustion and confusion threatening to cleave his sanity.
Trevor...Son...Why?
Was his son in league with Shaft?
NO!
He refused to concede to that blasphemous thought. His own flesh-and-blood would never turn to the evil that they'd both struggled against all their lives! It was inconceivable. Perhaps... Sinking against the tree, gasps abundant, bleary champagne-colored eyes wandered to the terrifying heights of the Clock Tower. No, not Castlevania. A warped representation of its most treacherous warden: the dreaded Clock Tower.
Eleven times rang the clock, each reverberation drilling into the divine prince's skull with intensive pain. Even after the final pell, the nobleman suffered still. Nor did his bloodlust abate. Its hunger inspired maddened visions of voluptuous veins of necks. Among them, his friends...his wife...
In despair, his whites expanding, Adrain gazed up at the twisted spires and numerous catwalks. Where was his son? Within? With Shaft still? Its darkness stark against a glittering, midnight sky only seemed to emphasis the sinister vigor.
Soon, soon would come the dawn. And with it, Alucard.
"Coo! Coo!"
Startled, he spun in a dozen directions. An owl. But of course. Nothing out of ordinary. He could see the red outline of life-heat from the shadow. A feathered night creature lurked in the tree branches, eyes as golden as his own. It remained unmoved by the drama of the nobleman, observing the Tepes with cool caution.
What! How...can I see the life-heat!?! Only the undead...
It was already starting. Adrian found himself crouching, eyeing the bird. His hunger clawed at him. Hunt! It said. Draw blood. Nourish yourself! Creeping forward, silent as the moonlight falling to the stones, he mesmerized the bird with the hypnotic vampire gaze he knew how to use so well.
What was he thinking!? Moaning, he ripped from the stare and flung his body to the grass carpet. It's not even daybreak. How could it happen so soon...Ah, but the lust is like that of alcoholism–once you have it, you have it, and should you repress it, still it awaits to spring forth again at first opportunity.
Run. Run from here. That did Adrian do. Vanishing through the dark grove like a wisp of a wraith, the golden hair whipping, he sped to the location of the new Tepes Mansion. With no idea as to its coordination, blind faith remained his guide. But more than once did the lust tempt him, and the nobleman's eyes fell upon a young dog that crossed his path.
It was young, a pup yet. But it never stood a chance.
What will they think of their beloved golden warrior now, reduced to animal bloodsucking?
Unlike with the owl, the hunger became all encompassing. There was naught but his desperate thirst to be quenched: honor, reason, concern for the animal's welfare vanished beneath the red haze that is the disease of vampirism. His teeth stabbed into the sweat flesh. The dog howled in pain but all Adrian did was draw upon the agony, his physiological desires filling in the dark song of inflicted torment.
Sick at what he'd done, Adrain attempted to bury the corpse but found the task too grisly. Hiding it beneath a fallen tree, he heaved his guts right beside. Continue. Run. Don't stop. The sheer insanity of his plight made the nobleman want to end his life, what was left of it anyway. But the sight of Maria kept him from that fatal course.
Eventually to his vast relief, or dismay (he wasn't certain which) the image of his sister-in-law, Annette Belmont, materialized. "I've found him!" she cried, green eyes bright, while running in his direction. "Maria, Richter, I've found Adrian!"
Good grief....thought Adrian, who was never something alien to the foreign-yet-familiar blood now coursing his veins...Crying. Crying had no place for the undead. Undead? Alucard? The thoughts shattered as he fainted over the damp grass.
Something soft. It felt soft. Smelt; of rose petals. Consciousness once again reasserted itself. Adrian desired nothing more than to remain within the silken folds of sleep. But with awareness came thought and with thought came fear.
Fear of the undead. Fear of himself.
"Maria!" he breathed harshly, opening his eyes to see the lovely face of his wife. Maria watched with worry, her hands covering one of his own, warming the cold flesh. Annette sat on a stool to his left, also sadly disturbed. When the golden prince turned his head, the sight of Richter prowelling at the window, violet cloak like those of the curtains themselves was revealed to his half-drooped eyes.
"We're here, my love. We're here. Tell us, what happened?" Maria comforted, her voice dipping uncharacteristically. She and the others had been searching for him for hours, as evidenced by the stains on their traveling garments. Richter wore his purple-and-blue ensemble, ancient flame whip by his side as always. Both Ann and Maria wore daggers with their leather gear and bags under their eyes.
Time to spill my life, Adrian noted, resigned. In a handful of chosen words, he detailed the capture, subjugation, and subsequent escape. All three listened, silent, worried and furious looks on their faces. Richter muttered something about smothering Shaft while Annette appeared appalled at his described violation. But Maria went white to the lips as the former half-breed mentioned his son.
"Son? You have a son?" she quickly inquired, emerald eyes wide. "You never told me. With who? When? Who–?!"
Immediately, Adrian sat up sharply, and restrained her wrist. His eyes flashing, he whispered, "It's a long tale."
"I would like to hear it."
He nodded. Annette made him comfortable in the blankets as she'd do for either Marie or Alan. The woman had an air of motherhood and discipline about her that her younger sister, Maria, never had. Maria sat on the bed, lips pressed tightly. Even Richter, a half-shadow in the moon's radiance, cocked an ear to listen as he stood ward to the Tepes Mansion.
Breathing deeply, opening the wound to his soul that hadn't seen light in centuries, Adrian began.
Delicate starlight waterfalled from the stain glass windows, casting an even more deathly hue to the already marble features of a vampire prince. As ice, he sat upon the throne, golden eyes distant, cape fluttering like the bats that attended him. And yet, fierce fire blazed within his tortured soul.
It was not easy being the son of Dracula.
For weeks now, the half-breed had spied on a young warrior female, a threat to their race had claimed his father. She'd come slaughter all undead, exterminate them as if they were insects. But as Alucard watched the beautiful vampire huntress enter the throne room with murder in her eyes something came over him. No, not murder, he realized. Sorrow. Sorrow for his kind!
A decision had to be made. His mortal or immortal side. For good or for evil.
Little did he know it, but Alucard's heart already belonged to a Belmont.
"Sonia Belmont," Annette observed.
"Yes. I–I still dream of her."
A most unusual union indeed. As the the vampire prince and vampire huntress joined forces to vanquish his tyrant father, something blossomed between the two. Alucard could not have known it. Sonia could not have known it. They were falling in love. As Dracula's blood streaked the walls of Castlevania and their doom seemed imminent, the handsome nobleman disclosed his feelings.
Never in his imagination could he believe she'd return his love. Sonia and Alucard survived and constructed a secluded home. Now naturally, Alucard declined consummating their relationship for fear of his vampirism. What if she were to carry his seed? To bear a child? The possibilities were frightening.
But ever are men fools who are in love...
"Our ancestor. You...were...involved...with Sonia?" asked Richter in a hush tone.
His eyes on Maria, willing her to understand, he conceded, "I loved her."
That love was his downfall. One night, caught up in each other, Sonia and Alucard made love. As the sun awoke them, both realized their great folly. As time soon confirmed, they had brought another vampire into the world.
Trevor Belmont.
Going completely rigid, Richter glanced at his eccentric friend and whispered, "Trevor? Trevor Belmont? My ancenstor? You're his father? My great, grand–!"
A sigh from Adrian. "Too many 'greats' to count. But, yes, I am the father of the Belmont clan."
"Why did you never tell me!" demanded Maria. Her anger could be more accurately deciphered as fear.
So was his. "I...I was afraid."
Indeed, afraid. The half-breed nobleman understood in alarm, how, like his dictator patriarch, he'd brought a curse into the world. But neither he nor the beautiful Sonia could bear the thought of murdering their child. They looked into his eyes and saw only innocence. Together, they sought a way to release their son of the evils of his father's heritage.
One cool rainy summer night, Sonia took the infant Trevor to a church. Though drab due to the poor weather, the stunning wooden cross that stood sentinel over the entrance archway was enough to persuade Alucard to remain outside. Instead, he watched from the beautifully-designed window. His golden hair plastered to his skull, cold in body and soul, the damned prince heard every word.
Sona pleaded with a highly-respected priest to remove her son's curse. At first, the priest refused to even see her, deeming the huntress sinful for bringing a fouled child into God's house. But eventually her sweet voice and desperation broke him down.
He agreed to a cleansing. All was well until the priest, opulent in his white robes, noticed a shadow by the window. "I know you," he hissed darkly.
Alucard's eyes flashed and his breathed hitched.
"I know you, demon spawn," came his hateful snarl. "How could you! How could you spread your evil taint?!"
A dark outline on the god-endorsing glass, Alucard murmured, "Does God not teach forgiveness?"
The harsh expression altered as the eyes fell upon little Trevor. He made a snap decision. "In the interest of humanity and your child, son of Dracula, put yourself into a endless sleep. Do so, and I will restore the infant."
Sonia's cry of fury and anguish resonated in the hallowed chamber of God.
"So you agreed," Maria stated flatly.
Falling back against the soft pillows, eyes squinted in remembered pain, he nodded again. "There was no other way. My seed was plagued. I–I loved Sonia. And our child. In my shame, I hid within the crumpled bowels of Castlevania to rest for eternity. To my immense horror, I learned that Sonia was murdered by fanatics in a manner much like my mother–burned at the stake."
During the tale, Maria exchanged posts with her brother-in-law, eyes haunted. Richter shifted on his feet and offered a silly smile every so often to relieve the tension. His valiant effort was in vain. Even his wife, Annette, seemed shaken up.
"And now," Richter said, "Shaft has Trevor brainwashed, bent on using you and your...son...to ressurect Castlevania. Beautiful. Just beautiful."
Annette leapt to her feet and whipped out a dagger, "Sounds like a rescue mission to me."
The Belmonts left Adrian's bedchamber to plan for a raid on the 'Clock Tower'. Adrian knew they'd formulate a terrific counterstrike, valuable companions that they are. But it would take more than good plans and a lot of heart for this crisis. What if, in their invasion, Trevor should be hurt? Killed?
What if I kill him...both my father and my son!
His troubled eyes trailed to his wife. "That's not the end of it." She nodded woodenly. "Remember the time I bit you? I have reason to believe that I have become reinfected with my father's bloodlust..."
A gasp. So faint it almost could not be heard. Oh, but he heard it. Such inhuman hearing. Not human at all. "You're a–a vampire?"
In the waiting silence his voice fell like a stone dislodged from a dam.
Heaven came down. "...Yes."