Vlad raised his brows as he looked at his son and the Belmont boy. Obviously, by his smell and the unfocused look about him, the young hunter was drunk. Adrian had his arm around the boy, supporting him in his attempts to walk, practically carrying him.
However, what had caught Vlad's attention was what the Belmont had blurted out not moments before. His son addressed him, a conflicted, almost trapped expression on his face. It was admirable he chose not to flee the scene.
"Son," Vlad said, nodding his head in greeting and approaching the two. "What is this?"
"I figured out where Trevor had been, Father, and went to fetch him." Adrian adjusted his grip on the Belmont. "It seems he found the stock of wine. Either that or one of the servants brought him some. I found him in the napery just down the hall."
Vlad frowned. It had been clear to both he and his son that the Belmont had been drinking heavily before he rescued Lisa. They had discussed it together with his wife and all agreed it was likely because of the death of his entire clan. Vlad had been the one to institute the limitations on Belmont's alcohol intake, for several reasons, one being his health. Alcohol had been a poor idea while he was recovering from his burns, as he had needed to stay hydrated. Another reason for the limitations was Belmonts-as per Vlad's experience-were unbearable when drunk. Vlad had only recently allowed wine to be served at the dinners they all shared, and even then, he allowed but one glass.
He might've known a Belmont would find a way around the rules, even when they were put in place for his own sake.
"I see," Vlad said.
"You've gotta lot of... fucking tablecloths," Belmont interjected. The boy stared blearily in his direction.
"And how would you know that, Belmont?"
When the boy burst into giggles, Adrian answered in his stead. "He threw quite a number of them on the floor. The reason for which I can't fathom." The Belmont laughed harder.
"I find that drunks often have little reason," Vlad said. "Something that Leon knew as well as I, yet it seems not to have passed down."
Adrian cocked his head in question. Ah yes, he hadn't revealed the whole story to his son, had he? He supposed it was about time, considering his age and the Belmont currently residing with them.
Said Belmont turned to Vlad with a pointing finger. "Th' fuck do you know about Leon Belmont?"
"Quite a lot more than you might think, Belmont."
"Oh," Trevor said, drawing out the word in a taunting tone, "Is that so?"
Vlad looked to his son. "I will not keep you any longer. It appears he needs rest."
"You don't know what I need," Trevor protested. "You don't- uh... human stuff."
Adrian closed his eyes, looking as though he was pleading for patience. A perfectly understandable thing to do when confronted with such bullheaded obstinance.
"Go on Adrian," Vlad said. "I expect you will have a time getting him to his room."
"Yes, but I will manage."
Vlad nodded. "Then I wish you luck."
"Have a good night, Father."
They parted and both continued down the hall in opposite directions. Vlad only turned his head when the Belmont boy shouted his name.
"Dracula! Hey, Drac, you listening? I'm gonna sleep with your son!"
Adrian immediately shushed him, and Vlad heard the footsteps speed up. Vlad turned forward and kept moving. A smile tugged on his mouth. He trusted his son to show proper discretion with the young hunter, regardless of how provocative he was while drunk. It was rather amusing, actually.
Still, perhaps he would check in on them later, just to be sure the boy wasn't giving his son too hard of a time.
When he came across the napery, he was unsurprised to find the mess Adrian had described. Servants were already picking up the scattered, colorful cloths, and the bottles of alcohol were being swept away.
"Make sure those are not so easily accessed," he commanded. The skeleton clattered and bowed.
Since the room was taken care of, Vlad found his mind wandering, strongly, towards some old belongings of his, nearly forgotten. It took him but a few moments to slide through the shadows, but he came out in a deeper part of the castle. Quiet suffused the space, the lighting dimmer and decoration sparse. He walked the few steps needed to reach a beautiful, yellow-brown Mulberry door etched with orange blossoms and zinnias, and turned the handle. Inside was just as he'd left it.
A simple table sat along the far wall, the room completely dark until Dracula waved a hand, lighting all the candle stands. The small flames cast everything in gentle yellow light. Dracula moved forward as though in a trance, his gaze on the objects resting upon the table while also looking back into past memories. Wine red cloth, folded with care into a basket-like shape, housed two rings: one silver and the other gold.
Vlad reached the table and knelt before it, placing his forehead down against the cool grain; Nowhere else would he do this, but these memories deserved his respect. Reaching up, Vlad brushed his fingers across the two bands, telling them apart by their distinctive shapes and the slight tingle in his skin sliding across pure silver. A thick lump formed in his throat, and his words barely made it past.
"Elisabetha." The name came out a whisper, a caress.
With the quiet surrounding him like a secondary cloak, Vlad let his mind wander back to his past life, to Mathias Cronqvist. His fingers brushed over the gold ring, smooth all the way around until he reached a square bump with a distinct, pitted surface. This he knew to be the place on the ring with images carved on the surface: himself and his late wife, a cross binding them together.
Mathias closed his eyes. After so many years, he had no more tears to shed, but the wound in his soul still pained him. It pulled and tugged and wrenched the breath from him until all he could do was murmur the name of his late wife over and over, like a morbid mantra. Kneeling like this, whispering the name like a incantation, Mathias came the closest to praying he ever did.
Taking in a deep breath, as though he expected to scream, the emotional grip on his throat and chest had him whisper, raggedly, "I miss you."
And he did. Mathias shook for a few more moments, his heart growing despondent with the burden of memory. How lovely she had been. How fierce, in her own way. That such a swift and brutal illness had taken her was unjust, cruel. The heaviness did not leave him at the thought, but set a flame burning in his chest.
How dare God take such a woman from the Earth. How dare he, when she had been nothing but faithful while her husband fought in His name and-
His hand brushed silver, the tingle jumping through his skin and breaking the swirl of thoughts. This ring's shape he knew just as intimately as the first. A thick band connected at the top by two intertwined hands. A drunken gift, accompanied by a smile and laughter like sunlight reflected off water.
"We're companions, aren't we?"
It was the only time Leon had gotten drunk. He was bright, loud, and overly handsy. Despite initial protests, Leon had not relented on giving Mathias his ring, and so he had accepted it; He wore it for years in the Crusades, and kept it on him for many years after. Smoothed ridges and dips welcomed his light touches.
The feelings which filled Mathias when he thought of Leon were more complicated than those for his late wife. They had grown up together, learning the ways of the world, confronting changes within themselves and each other, all with the solid presence of a true friend at their side.
Mathias had welcomed Leon into his study for late nights of learning. Only half of that time had been spent teaching his friend; Leon was nothing if not a distraction. As if trying to make up for it, Leon was persistent and focused when it came to learning the martial arts and often dragged Mathias along for sparring. While he was never as skilled as his friend, Mathias did end up enjoying the exertion which came with their little sessions, and the calm of the baths afterwards.
Even when they had both been off to war, they were inseparable. Their company was undefeated, largely thanks to the work the two of them had put in, each utilizing their own strengths. Then Elisabetha had died, and Mathias's grief had consumed him.
He remembered hearing of Leon's betrothal to Sara Trantoul, remembered the feeling of utter loneliness as Leon's visits to his sickbed became more sparse, the fear and jealousy as he finally stopped coming at all. Those feelings had congealed with his grief to form a bitter betrayal which made his stomach roll. Even now, he felt vestiges of those emotions bubble in his gut.
Oh, how he'd wanted Leon to feel what he felt, to have him understand as they did in their youth. Once Leon finally had understood though, once he'd been put through such pain, he only stared Mathias in the eyes, defiant, and declared his hunt. Such strength he'd shown, such faith in humanity! Mathias couldn't comprehend it.
Almost four hundred years later, with a loving family, Vlad thought he might.
Trying to swallow down his grief, fingertips brushing over the silver, grasped hands, he whispered the words he wished he had been brave enough to give when Leon was still alive.
"I'm sorry."
I know everyone was probably expecting a bigger reaction but uh, let's just say Drac doesn't really consider Trevor any sort of threat at this point. But he totally doesn't like him guys! Nope, no sir, not even a little. The Belmont boy is just an idiot. Pssshhh fatherly feelings, what are those?
So, hmm, yeah, Vlad kinda wandered off to do this own thing. His own, very sad thing. (´;︵;`) Buuuut, it means more Lament of Innocence lore! I particularly love that cheesy game, so I'm glad it was hinted at in the show.
Guys, I had to do some serious research for Vlad. He better appreciate it! The door and rings are suuuper symbolic. It would have been incredibly expensive to make a door out of Mulberry, so the fact Dracula went to all that trouble when it was thought to ward off evil is, well, touching. Now obviously flowers have multiple meanings, but the ones I used are thus: Orange blossoms for eternal love, zinnias for lasting affection and thinking (or in memory) of an absent friend.
And yes, both rings are, technically, wedding/betrothal bands. ;D
Next time, back to Trevor's regularly scheduled drunkenness!