Perhaps, One Day, in the Future
Disclaimer: Castlevania belongs to konami not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic; it is written purely because I have a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Alucard . . . then he'd be mine.
Rating: PG-13
Part: one of three
Setting: Post the animated series
Authoress note: Adrian receives a letter.
Italics = thoughts and flashbacks
Chapter Two
"Another one's arrived." Sypha came into the kitchen, wailing tot in one arm, letter in the other hand.
"Thank you." Adrian took the letter but quickly pocketed it when the wailing tot was thrust into his arms.
"Hold this. I think my ears are bleeding." Sypha went to the table and slumped down onto the bench. "Monster still won't sleep longer than two hours without waking up crying. I'm sure I wasn't this awful as a baby."
"You don't mean that." Adrian settled the child on his hip and went back to his task of making breakfast. The crying slowed to a whimper and then stopped. Tiny hands grabbed his hair and pulled. "You realise this is difficult?" Adrian continued to scramble eggs despite the assault.
"He doesn't care. He's evil." Sypha leaned forward, putting her head in her arms and closing her eyes.
"Why does it only stop screaming when he holds him?" Trevor said, coming into the kitchen looking like he too had not slept. The Belmont sniffed the air. "Breakfast is on time this morning, that's a pleasant change."
"Don't be an arse." Greta pushed her way past him and went to Adrian, taking the wooden spoon from him and shooing him back towards the table. "I got this; you keep the baby quiet."
"I'm relegated to nursemaid." Adrian tried to sound dramatic.
"You're lucky we don't put the crib in your room." Sypha's arms muffled her voice. "Then we could sleep the night through."
"You know you're old when sleep sounds better than anything, even better than beer or sex." Trevor slumped onto the table matching his wife.
"I'm sure we could babysit for a night." Greta chuckled from the stove. "If it's that bad, give you two a break.
"Everyone hates you." Adrian said cheerfully to the tot he was now bouncing on his lap. "You're a nightmare, and no one wants you around, not even your own parents." The infant squealed with delight.
"Is this ready?" Greta called, tipping the pan up so Adrian could see.
"Probably." He watched her dish up the eggs onto plates he'd set aside. "There's bacon keeping warm in the oven, mushrooms too."
"A veritable feast." Greta brought the plates to the table once she'd finished. She put them Infront of the Belmont's and had to wake them both to eat. "Perhaps we should keep him with us today. You two are clearly exhausted."
"That would be wonderful." Sypha started shovelling food into her face in an effort to eat fast and get back to sleep.
"It didn't help that one of your crows woke us up." Trevor spat bacon fragments across the table. "That's what, eleven now?"
"Fourteen." Adrian corrected.
"And you've still not written back?" Sypha frowned at him.
"I've started many times, but I do not know what to say." Adrian rocked the tot, who had finally released his hair and was slumping forward against his chest, falling asleep. Sypha gave him a dirty look.
"I have to rock him for ages to get him to sleep. How the hell do you do that?"
"Sedatives in his shirt?" Greta offered.
"I'm a centre of natural calm." Adrian smirked. "All children love me for my calming, protective, and attractive presence."
"Modest." Trevor grunted, his plate rapidly clearing.
"You should write back, though." Sypha said, her own plate almost clear. "There's lots to talk about. You could tell them about your life here. The work we've done in the village. Maybe you could ask your father for advice on fixing the castle?"
"No." Adrian and Trevor said at the same time.
"If I tell him, you broke the castle-" Adrian started.
"I do not break things."
"You broke it." Trevor said.
"If I tell him it's broken, he might come to fix it."
"And that would be bad because..." Greta trailed off. Trevor and Adrian turned to stare at her and said nothing. Eventually, she threw up her hands and started collecting empty plates. "Fine, ignore me."
"What does your mother write about?" Sypha asked.
"Nothing in particular." Adrian shrugged, disturbing the sleeping tot in his arms. "She tells me about their life there, fish recipes, the properties of some of the beach plants she finds. She doesn't ask questions."
"She's trying to not pressure you into writing back." Greta said from the basin where she was now washing plates.
"Copy her. Write about nothing in particular." Trevor offered, earning him a few strained looks. "What? I think he should write back. If I found my parents were still alive, I'd write to them."
"Your situation was slightly different." Adrian said.
"Meh." Trevor shrugged. "Still think you should write back; you'll hate yourself if you don't and I don't want to listen to you moan about it."
"What's in this one?" Greta came back to the table and reached down to take the sleeping infant from Adrian. Adrian handed the baby over to her and took the letter out of his pocket. Opening it, he read silently for a moment before laughing.
"What?" Greta nudged his shoulder.
"Yesterday, your father went out with some men from the pub who were determined to teach him to catch fish properly."
"What the hell?" Trevor frowned, the bags under his eyes getting darker by the second.
"Quiet I want to hear." Sypha snapped.
"Mother's last letter mentioned father helped with some rebuilding in the town. This seems to be some kind of effort at payback." Adrian explained before returning to reading. "He came home covered in seaweed and wouldn't tell me what had happened. I had to find out from one man's wife the next day. Apparently, roughhousing took place and your father took the brunt of it, becoming tangled in several nets, overbalancing and ending up in the water."
"See, now you have to write back." Greta said. "You can't ignore something like that, that is ripe for mockery."
"Perhaps… You really think I should write about here?"
"What else are you going to write about?" Trevor stretched, his back cracking.
"That's the issue, I don't know."
"Do you want to write back?" Greta put a hand on his shoulder.
"Of course, it's just so messy."
"What are you afraid of?" Greta resettled the infant in her arms and the disturbance woke the baby.
"Isn't it obvious?" Trevor scoffed.
"It is awkward." Adrian looked down at his hands gripping the table tightly enough that it creaked under his grip. "How do you think the village would react? If they found out?"
"They moved to the castle without a fuss." Greta pointed out, bouncing the baby gently on her hip. "Did you think they didn't know where they were coming?"
"It was a choice between coming here or staying in Dynasty which was a death sentence. Circumstances were slightly different. Can you imagine what would happen if my father came home?"
"Mob." Trevor chuckled, but stopped when Adrian glared.
"They wouldn't mob. If they were going to mob, then they would have done it already. Last time I checked, you weren't exactly human, and you were never shy about that, falling off rooftops and whatnot."
"I am far less intimating than my father."
"That's true." Trevor leaned forward. "His father is really, really tall and takes a punch to the face like a champ."
"You can't even say his name." Adrian sighed.
"I can. It's just his name has a lot of history with my family. It has connotations, feels weird."
"It does with everyone in Wallachia, hence my point." The baby in Greta's arms started to cry.
"We're getting nowhere here. Take the babe for a walk." Greta handed him the smallest Belmont. "He sleeps best on you, anyway. Go walk in the fresh air, clear your head. Who knows, maybe you'll be inspired?"
Adrian accepted the infant from her and sighed. He turned to Sypha to see if she would object, though he doubted it. She was already asleep again on the table. He glanced at Trevor, who shrugged and stood, lifting his wife and heading out of the kitchen.
"Just think about it," Greta said as he stood up to head outside. He nodded once and left the kitchen. Walking through the hallways of the castle, he paid particular attention to the villagers inside. He'd been gradually teaching them things, and seeing them working on the lighting in the castle was reassuring. They'd been afraid of it at first, but with a little knowledge, a little instruction, it had become normal to them. They were working on spreading the lights through the rest of the village.
He stepped out into the morning air and breathed deep.
The land around the castle smelt of people, cooking, animals, and mud. It smelt alive. Alive in a way, it hadn't since his mother died. He stepped down off the stone steps and glanced back at the walls. Along the edges of the castle, small blue flowers were blooming. His father had planted them in one courtyard for his mother in the months before Adrian was born. Now, wherever the castle landed, the little blue flowers would spring up. They were medicinal, having strong antibiotic properties. They could be placed on wounds to stop infection, put in food to speed healing, and drank to soothe the stomach. His mother had told him when he was tiny that everywhere the castle went was a little better for them being there in part because of these flowers.
The babe in his arms fussed and struggled. He took a moment to soothe her and watch the people going about their lives. Several smiled at him, a few children grinned, and came running over. He made a point of reading to a group of them each day and yesterday they had finished a book. He'd tasked them all to come up with ideas for the next one. They were eager to share their thoughts and questions. His father had read to him when he was little. It had always been one of his favourite times of the day. It was a quiet and soothing way to spend time together. He enjoyed that he could do that for so many now.
The thought of his parents coming here and seeing his village, with its bustling people, all learning and thriving in the castle's shadow, would make them proud. Of that, he was sure. He wanted them to come; he wanted them to see it. But more than that, he wanted them to see him, to see what he had built. Life had been unbearably hard, and he had come out of it a better, stronger person. He'd faced adversity and kicked its fucking head in and he wanted them to see that their demise had not been his destruction as well.
The babe in his arms settled, eyes closing and breathing calming. Small hands gripping his shirt. But even more than that, he missed them. He missed how his mother would stand on her tiptoes to fuss with his hair, only to snag her wedding ring in the finer hairs. He missed how safe he had always felt with his father looming around the castle. Nothing could touch them, nothing could come close, until, of course, it had and their world had fallen apart.
But how would the village react?
"Father." A tug at his shirt caused him to look down. "Do you have a book about dragons? Can you read to us about dragons?"
"I have many books on dragons." He knelt down so better put himself at eye level with the children. "Aren't you afraid of dragons?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I want to ride one. I'm going to find one and make it my pet, then it will let me ride it and I need you to read to me about them so I know how to find one." Adrian had to stop himself smiling, memories of his father taking him flying, flashing through his mind.
"What if a dragon came here?"
"One can come here?!" the boys' eyes were wide. "Wait till I tell the others!"
"Maybe." Adrian said. "But if it did, do you think it would be scary?"
"Maybe for the girls." The boy seemed thoughtful. "But not for us and the girls would like it once I showed them it was ok, that it was safe." Adrian stood back up.
"I'll find a book about dragons." He smiled.
That night Adrian wrote back to his parents.
End Chapter Two
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