The sounds of battle were over. In the absence of the turmoil, the silence was almost deafening. The soft sounds of nature had not yet returned to their full power, having been silenced from fear at the intense shouting and spilling of blood. A sudden breeze lifted Seras' hair, stirring the limbs on the tree above her head and bending the stalks of wheatgrass with a gentle touch. With it came the mingled scent of death and victory, wafting out across the landscape and burning her nose. The midnight cloak fluttered, obeying its own perverse laws of gravity as it rippled around its owner, offering tempting glimpses of the stained, yet still shining armor.

Alucard looked around at the bloodied ground, long, knotted hair sliding from his shoulders and cascading down his back, mingling with the dæmon's shadows that still swept around his form. His eyes met hers and he paused, watching her from behind the tangle of bangs that he hadn't bothered to sweep from his face. She held his gaze evenly; if it still had a beat, her heart would have been thudding against her ribs like a caged animal. The adrenaline still hadn't gone away, and the longer he stared at her, the more panicked she felt. Her dæmon by contrast seemed rather at ease, but then again, it wasn't in her direct sight; it could have been projecting an air of peace in an effort calm her.

He moved, taking a single step towards her. His boot was muffled by a pool of blood that hadn't soaked into the ground yet, and almost immediately the shadows fell upon it and drank the leftover mess greedily. There was a moment where she irrationally wondered if he might slice her in two with his sword as well, but it was only the adrenaline talking. A fight with him would be nice, her dæmon remarked casually before falling silent again. It seemed to want to take a backseat for the moment and let things play out. She glanced to see his dæmon hanging back as well, the lupine form lapping at the blood with a shadowy tongue. It moved on to another puddle, leaving nothing of the earlier fight except battered footprints in the dust.

He stepped towards her again, metal clanking against itself as he moved. As he walked, it was though he was walking through time itself; hair shortening until the tangles fell away altogether, greaves melting to become rune-marked gloves, armor falling away into shadow and being replaced with crimson clothing, the white shirt standing out starkly in contrast, the way it always had. When he reached the boulder and stood before her, he was not the knight of old, but the Alucard she'd always known. And loved, her dæmon added.

And love, she agreed quietly, head inclined so that she didn't break eye contact. I love him.

And he doesn't hate you. In fact, I'd go so far to say that he was quite fond of you. The dæmon was clearly trying to be snide, but its tone fell flat and became more matter-of-fact at the end.

Maybe someday, she replied, a small frown crossing her face in light of the dæmon's words. Maybe…

May be, the dæmon echoed. Time will tell, and we have a lot of it. It paused. He does care, in his own way, it said after a moment, pensively, as though trying to make up for its earlier statement.

I know, she confirmed. His dæmon—she had wanted to say something about how his dæmon had acted towards her, coddling her, kissing her, staring at her with those calm, gentle eyes that had been so different from her former master's, even though they were the same eyes on the same body. But knowing about it—and remembering it— was far easier than trying to grab the emotions and put them into words. It was hard, for there were some words that just didn't describe Alucard, but his dæmon had personified them through him.

Ah, here he comes, her dæmon noted before she had time to voice her confusion. She was shaken from her introspection—literally—as his hand gripped her forearm tightly and jerked her to her feet. She glared at him, but he didn't let go.

"I won," he declared, as though she couldn't have figured it out for herself. She refused to look away, though she felt her cheeks burning under his hard stare. Her heart moved to her throat and she swallowed the lump, trying to think of something beneficial to say that wouldn't sound like an airheaded blonde. As they stood, his fingers loosened on her arm; she fought the urge to yank it away as they stroked lightly, as if to brush away the sting of the bruise that wouldn't form, healing before any discoloration could have time to occur.

"I know," she finally replied, her voice hoarse. "You won the battle." But not the war, her dæmon added cheerfully. That's something he'll never win.

Oh, shut up, she replied irritably. I don't want to spend eternity fighting with him.

Then you better convince him to roll over like a little puppy. Otherwise, that's what we'll be doing—from time to time, at least. The dæmon sounded as though it couldn't wait to get started. It laughed haughtily, but made no further comment as it waited for Alucard to make the next move. Seras cleared her throat. "Does this mean you're finally giving in? Or are you going to leave in a huff?"

"And just what does that mean?" He sounded almost easygoing—the full stomach and release of pent up energy had him in a good mood.

"It'd be like you to kill all the suitors and then leave me alone," she laughed sharply. "I'm surprised you're even sticking around to chat. That's not the sort of man you are."

"Don't bother yourself with tacking me down with a description. Besides, you won't get rid of me that easily, not now," he answered, putting less than an inch of space between their bodies. "I killed those men for you." He said it as though she were a trophy to be won, a prized castle that was his now. She shook herself away from his arm.

"I'm not your little toy," she warned sternly. "Get that through your head right now. You don't own me, just because you killed a few weaker vampires. You'll never own me again," she proclaimed proudly. "I won't go back to being your servant."

"Yes, I know. I'd be rather disappointed if you did," he purred, grabbing ahold of her again. Before she knew it, her back was pressed against the boulder and he was bent over her. "Is that what you think I want?" She didn't answer, and to her shock he pressed his face into the crook of her neck in a gesture that seemed relatively innocent, compared to what she'd thought he might do. He spoke again, voice muffled as his lips moved against her skin. "I killed…those men…for you," he repeated, this time in an entirely different tone.

"Huh?" She vaguely realized that her arms had wrapped around him, back stretched at an odd angle along the boulder. Her dæmon hummed pleasantly at the feeling of it, sidling past their entwined forms as a she-wolf and joining his dæmon at the blood. She felt the dæmon drink, small bursts of energy running like a drug through her bloodstream.

"It was not only tonight that I slaughtered in your name," he admitted. "Even these past thirty years, did you think I cared one whit about Integra?" He laughed coldly. "No, not her, never her. I killed three million, four hundred twenty-four thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven souls for a chance to hear your voice echoing in my mind, and yours alone." He pressed deeper, as though trying to go through her skin and be part of her in the same way that her dæmon was. "Imagine my disappointment when all I ever heard were snippets of a laugh, a single sob, fragments of a melody that I longed to hear for thirty long years. I have at last caught a glimpse of Hell, and I didn't like it as much as I thought I might."

"I—I'm sorry," she murmured, not sure of what else to say.

"I'd have destroyed entire countries if you'd only asked it of me," he continued, as though he hadn't heard her. "I still would. I have the strangest desire—" He paused. "To be entreated by you." He sounded bitter now, but even that didn't take away from the impact of is words. "It is I who has become your servant, Seras Victoria."

"And what if… what if I don't want a servant?" she asked. He rose slowly from her neck, eyeing her with a sharp stare. She blinked back, unsure of his emotions. His mask was in place, offering her no insight to his mind. How she longed, in this moment, to be connected to him again, and know what he was thinking!

"What do you want?" he nearly growled. She gulped, but refused to be quailed by the harsh growl.

"An equal?" she offered. "Why does one of us always have to be the top of the chain? Why can't we be equals, and do things together?" She found one of his hands, pulling it from her hip before squeezing the limp fingers tightly. "As one." His expression turned thoughtful.

"I've never had an equal," he mused aloud.

"And I haven't been anyone's equal for a long time," she replied softly. Ever since she had become a vampire, she had felt the loss of comradery that came with the title. She was either their commander, or inhuman enough that no one cared to have her around. Sir Integra was fine, but she was still the boss, and the house servants were, well, servants. Pip was never able to stay around long, and that left her by her lonesome… except for the other creature on the manor's grounds who was also alone. Didn't logic state that they'd be better off sticking together, where no one would be lonely?

"Hmm…" A single finger trailed down her cheek, tracing her jaw as he considered her offer. She leaned up into it unthinkingly, biting her tongue to keep his name from passing her lips. His touch seemed volatile now, where it hadn't been before. Was it the concoction of pheromones and blood that had her senses on hyper-alert, or was she just now subconsciously giving into her desire for him? She couldn't tell. "I think… of all the people in the world right now, perhaps you are one of the few worthy enough to be my adversary… or my equal." He leered savagely. "Perhaps both, if the timing is right."

"Um…"Again, she had no idea what to say to that. He wanted her as an adversary? Did everything have to be fighting and wars with him? "I was thinking more along the lines of allies rather than adversaries," she clarified shyly, but he shook his head impatiently.

"Allies come and go, but there will always be an adversary." Her lips parted, comprehension washing over her.

"Alucard…." She tilted her head. "I know it's not what you were going for, but that was actually a little romantic." She still wasn't sure exactly how his viewing her as an enemy would work, but if he wanted her around forever, who was she to complain? A smug grin was her only response. "If that's the way you want to play it… my adversary."

"My adversary," he repeated, his voice a whispering purr. He smoothed the bangs from her forehead, staring down at her intently. "When we kissed, it was not I who kissed you," he said conversationally, voice laced with suggestion. She glanced over his shoulder at the wolf dæmons, who were watching the tête-à-tête with some interest.

"I know that. I was there too," she joked, laughing weakly when he didn't react to it. A single brow arched and he waited for her lapse back into silence.

"I think now," he said slowly, "is the time to remedy the situation."

"S-situation?" she stammered, pressing herself further into the boulder. He nodded gravely.

"Yes," he hissed softly, eyes dropping to her chest where it was pressed against his, gazing appreciatively. "You surely can't object to a kiss, seeing as you chose me as one of your suitors, hmm? Now that I'm the only one left, who else is there to… how do humans say it? 'Shower with affection?'" She nearly laughed at the thought of him willingly accepting any so-called showering of affection, but managed to keep it in check when he glared at her once more. She bit her lip for a brief moment before leaning up and pecking his cheek quickly. His skin was almost warm compared to its usual temperature; she wondered if he was still worked up from the fight, or quite literally hot under the collar. "That's it?" he humphed when she pulled away. "That's the kiss of a small child— not a lover, my dear."

"Just remember, all's fair in love and war," she warned teasingly, a wicked grin crossing her lips as she wriggled backwards out of his grasp and up towards the summit of the boulder. A disgruntled look pushed its way past the mask, but he didn't reach for her immediately. He seemed to be biding his time, eyeing her as a scholar might look at a particularly puzzling dilemma. She couldn't help but laugh this time, seeing the proverbial gears turning in his head. Then, from her higher viewpoint, she saw his dæmon stand up and shake its fur. She was so caught up in the sight of the shadow that she nearly missed his glove sneaking its way up the rock towards her ankle. Nearly. "You still have to work for your pay."

"Now, now," he tutted as she yanked her ankle away from his questing fingers. "To the victor go the spoils, and we've both admitted that I've won already." Oh, he thinks he's witty now, her dæmon purred, but made no move to stand as the ancient vampire reached for her, intent on claiming a proper reward for his deeds.

"As your adversary, it's my job to make sure you're never the victor for long," she advised coyly, letting the tips of his fingers brush her leg before climbing just out of reach again. His face twisted in anger and she arched a brow, waving at him from her little perch. His smile stretched and froze in place as he tried to keep his impatience with her under control. She tucked her knees beneath her chin as she watched, wondering what he'd do. There wasn't a good foothold for him to climb up the rock after her, and while he could easily jump to reach her, she could just as easily see it coming and move away.

"Police Girl," he cooed, the name vicious in its over-pronounced ease and almost singsong in nature. "Come down to me, my dear little Draculina." She smiled innocently, shaking her head. Adding insult to injury her dæmon slid casually up the rock, climbing the smooth surface like a hill and passing just within touching distance of his hand before joining Seras on her seat. His dæmon followed but stopped by its host, curling the bushy shadow-tail around Alucard's legs as the void where its eyes should have been looked longingly up at her. She looked back and its tail wagged once before it turned its attention to the increasingly agitated vampire.

"Why don't you come up here?" she retorted smartly.

"And will you just run away again if I do?" His genial attitude and soft, imploring tone continued, but she wasn't lulled into a false sense of security like he clearly wanted her to be. Mesmerizing might have worked on a vampire with a simpler mind, her dæmon laughed cynically, but not us. Seras humphed under her breath, a little irritated that he even tried to put her under his control with silly little mind tricks. Show him who's the boss, it suggested.

"Say 'please' and I'll think about it," she answered in the same syrupy-sweet tone that he had used. The smile stretched from ear to ear, but didn't meet his burning eyes.

"Do not presume to order me," he warned softly.

"Don't try to gain the upper hand on me," she accused, pointing a finger down at him. "Don't think I didn't catch on to what you were trying to do just then. Is that any way to treat an equal?" They frowned at each other for a long moment, neither one speaking until she cleared her throat. "No tricks, no powers, no anything. Just behave yourself—if you promise to do that, I'll stop running." For the first time in her undead existence, his gaze faltered and he looked away, brow knitting. "No more tricks?" she prompted gently. He looked back up at her before raising his arms, fingers spread as the shadows dispersed from around him and vanished into the night.

"No tricks," he agreed solemnly. "Come down, Seras."

"Gladly." She untucked her knees and slid down the face of the boulder, heels digging in the rock to slow her descent. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and threw her whole weight on him at once, trusting him to keep his balance as she held him in a tight embrace. There was a pause, and then his arm came up to hold her steady, fingers pressed into the space between her shoulder blades. "Let's go, Alucard," she stated, neither a question nor an order as she rubbed her cheek against his neck, inhaling his warm scent.

"Go? Where?" he asked, his other hand finding purchase on her lower back. It was as close as he'd ever come to returning her affections, although she couldn't say that he was definitely hugging her back. She shrugged and shook her head simultaneously before leaning back to look him in the eye. Their noses brushed, but he made no move to kiss her, his eyes searching hers for some unknown thing.

"Home, I guess. I really don't want to make love in a field." His nose wrinkled and she couldn't help the bark of laughter that bubbled up from her chest, sounding almost harsh in the absence of any other sound. "What?!" she exclaimed, tilting her head. She lowered her voice until it was the closest thing she could imagine to a sultry drawl. "You don't want to?" His arms tightened around her, fingers digging punishingly into her spine.

"I want to fuck you until my master throws us out for disturbing her peace," he admitted. "I'm more than fine with having you against this rock, but if you'd prefer a wall instead—" He stopped when she shook her head.

"No dice. First time—in the bed, beneath the covers, no rush, no screaming or disturbing anyone's peace, and we never refer to it as fucking," she named off, ticking her demands off on her fingers. His eyebrows rose steadily, but he didn't agree or disagree. She shrugged again after a moment. "Take it or leave it—after all, you're the one with something to lose here. I can go without you for an eternity." She tossed her hair and played aloofness. He grunted in amusement, but still didn't answer her. She watched him from the corner of her eye before clicking her tongue in pretend exasperation. "Alright, alright—we don't have to be under the sheets. I can compromise."

"I see that this is the best sort of deal I can expect from an equal," he finally said. She rolled her eyes.

"Just because we're equals doesn't mean that I don't have standards. I'm not losing my virginity against the bedroom wall."

"I was thinking more along the lines of my master's office." She smacked his chest lightly, but still hard enough to make a hollow thud.

"We're not doing it in there! Ever!" His eyes narrowed as he leered at her.

"We'll see…." He pressed her to him and the shadows erupted around them, covering up the moon and the wheatgrass around them. She closed her eyes as her stomach flipped, not used to being carried along for the ride instead of just phasing herself. When she opened them again, she was relieved to find that he'd taken them to her bedroom. He sat her down and she pushed him lightly towards the coffin, one hand reaching out for her clothes cupboard.

"Make yourself comfortable; I'm going to get ready. Just wait here," she said, grabbing a pajama shirt out of the drawer without even looking to see which one it was. He watched as she ran to the bathroom, offering him one last cheerful look before shutting the door. She quickly began stripping off her clothes, her dæmon rushing to the mirror. "Help me look sexy," she ordered absently as she worked on the buttons to her uniform.

"I'd thought you'd never ask," the dæmon gushed happily, its hands already tearing off the reflection's gloves and working fingers through her hair. "Washcloth to wash your face, oh—and brush your teeth, too." It paused. "Why on earth did you choose that shirt?" It made a face. "Stripes?"

"They're flattering," she protested, as though she'd meant to choose this exact shirt from her cupboard. She wet a washcloth and ran it over herself quickly, shadows sucking up the moisture as she scrubbed her face and threw it into the bin before buttoning the pajama shirt. It barely covered her panties, but she supposed that might be part of the charm. "Do I need makeup or something? I look so pale," she said doubtfully, lifting her bangs to study her face.

"Alright, Miss Ostrich: your head's been in the sand these past few decades, hasn't it?" the dæmon reproached. "Vampires like pale skin—the paler, the better." It fluffed her hair more, shadows mimicking its movements on Seras' body as it swept the hair into a tousled look before adjusting the collar of the nightshirt. "Teeth!" it reminded, and Seras obediently took the extra moment to brush her teeth. She thought that for her first time she'd be too nervous to move, but she was actually… excited? "It's the hormones," her dæmon explained in answer to her unspoken thoughts.

"Vampire stuff. Very exciting. Hurry up and spit," it complained, mouth full of blue foam. "Okay?" is said when she wiped her mouth after rinsing it. "And… strike a pose for me." Seras tried to make a sexy pose, but the dæmon only sighed and pinched the bridge of its nose. "Don't do that in front of him, I'm begging you."

"S-sorry," Seras mumbled, blushing bright pink and crossing her arms. "What about this?" She tried a different way and the dæmon looked at her before nodding in approval.

"Do it against the doorframe when you go out," it advised. "And don't worry, because I'll be right there with you."

"I know you will," she conceded, feeling a swell of emotion in her heart for the dæmon. It grinned toothily and slid from the mirror, giving her a thumbs up from the tiled floor. She returned it before throwing open the door.

"Well? What do you think?"

Nervous?His jacket slid from his shoulders, melting into thin air and becoming nothing but pooling shadow on the ground. This too quickly vanished, along with his boots. He sat back down on the coffin, gazing at his reflection in the mirror of the closed bathroom door.

Of course not, he replied coldly. If anything, he was… excited, fulfilled; he was entitled to this night, after dealing with the past week of bullshit from this lone female and her ceaseless spiels about how he should behave. He had earned it, having refrained from ripping her head off in a fit of anger (though he had come close). Even now, she was demanding things left and right from him about how he could take her! He listened to her muttering to her dæmon in the bathroom, her voice too low to pick up the specific words.

I'd say that you are, his dæmon remarked casually, tilting its head forward and peering at him from the eternally matted bangs. Don't worry—the gap between lovers shouldn't have messed much with your 'puterea de ședere', as it were. He bared his teeth in annoyance and the creature laughed, shrugging one shoulder in perfect indifference. And even if it had, I doubt a little virgin like her would even bother complaining about it.

At the words, his hands clenched on his knees. He could already feel her body beneath his; it would be warm, the first warm body he'd touched in a long, long time. Not the relentless heat of human warmth, or the icy chill of some of his poorly fed brethren, but a truly warm body that equaled his own. As equals, she had said. As one.

As one, his dæmon conceded with a solemn nod. This is truly the point of no return.

You don't think I know that, he snapped, lips twitching as the idea of growling the words aloud crossed his mind. I'm no fool.

That has yet to be determined, it retorted in the same tone, eyes flashing with irritation. Tell me, fallen prince, do you really think that you can meet all of her demands head on? That any challenge she puts before you is absolutely nothing?

What do you mean? He scoffed, crossing his arms to hide the clenched fists from the dæmon's gaze. But it did no good to hide something from oneself, or a part of oneself at any rate. The dæmon only raised its own clenched fist in a mocking parody of his own, studying the runes on the back of the immaculate glove with interest.

You told her earlier that you had the desire to be entreated. It's true, is it not? It was true. As strange as the sensation was, in that moment it had filled him with a burning desire for her to demand more of him. For the first time in his existence, he had held the feeling of unworthiness, and had the intense need to make it right. To make him worthy of her attention. She could have asked for anything in the world, and he'd have foregone sleep and food until it was at her feet. Countries would have fallen at the rise of her slender hand, jewels would have rained down upon her and decorated her like sparkling morning dew, anything she wished for could have been hers…

Yet what does she ask for? the dæmon asked him. Did she require wealth, land, servants? Things that you could, and would, have given her at a moment's notice? No, she's not shallow enough for your taste in gifts, I'm afraid. It was smug now, setting the trap for him, and he could see it a mile away. Still… What does she entreat of you, Vampire King?

To be my equal, he answered tersely, jaw tight in his anger. Happy now? Satisfied in your answer, dæmon?

Not quite yet, the dæmon admitted. It stood, looking down at him from across the room as it crossed its arms to mimic his. What shall you do if she entreats you to love her? To be sweet and gentle—all the things you aren't, and will never be? What will you do when she asks you for something that you simply can't give her? He was silent. Meet my eyes, voivode. Give your answer, fallen King.

I don't know, he snarled, forcing his eyes up to the reflection. His own gaze stared unfalteringly back at him, daring him to face what he already knew… and, he might even say, feared.

Of all the things to be afraid of in this world, the dæmon said softly, almost apologetically, that might be one of the most practical. It opened its mouth to speak again, but its eyes widened and then it was gone, vanished as the door flung open. Hey! Of course the female on the other side of the door couldn't hear it, but the involuntary action was still there.

"Well? What do you think?"

For a long moment, he couldn't think; he could only look on in shock at the sight before him. Leaned against the door frame, fingers playing with the hem of the shirt that oh-so-teasingly showed the very edges of her underwear without giving a full view of the fabric, hair tousled but not altogether tangled, cheeks tinged pink from shyness as well as (he assumed) a fierce scrubbing in the washroom, and her eyes—light from the washroom playing off the light from the bedroom, turning the crimson depths into a swirling sea of color. He didn't answer, and she began to fidget against the wood of the threshold. "W-well?" she asked again.

"Perfection," he answered, holding out one arm in an invitation for her to come. "Utter perfection." The strangest part was that he meant it, too; there was no false flattery in his mind. She colored even further, but didn't respond to his compliments. Instead, she padded across the room to open the door, leaning out and looking up and down the corridor before shutting it again and bolting the lock. "Afraid we might be found out?" he teased, not unkindly. She shot him a stern glare as she fixed the lock, checking it twice before finally moving towards him.

"Maybe I just didn't want to be interrupted?" she offered. He smirked, nodding. "Now, get off of the bed so that I can raise the lid." He obeyed, rising in a fluid motion as she pressed the button and barely missing the edge of the coffin as it rose, showing the bed beneath. He sat back down and she joined him, resting a polite distance away. He growled impatiently, pulling her towards him and ignoring the muffled squeak of protest.

He meant to roll her onto the bed and underneath him, but when her head came flush with his chest he paused. She hesitated as well, as though trying to sense his thoughts and then quietly shifted in his arms until his hold on her became more of an embrace. His dæmon purred happily from the mirror, but that was nothing but white noise in the back of his mind. His arms tightened around her, shocked at the strange sensation stirring deep within him. Finally, he sighed, enjoying the soft warmth of her curves pressed up against him. Finally. Everything he had fought for, right in his hands, true spoils of war, ripe for him to enjoy.

He couldn't wait to get started.

Author's Note: So, I originally had this chapter all be the finale, but it was going to be far too long of a chapter compared to the others. For brevity's sake, I cut it about the middle. Hope you enjoyed this part, and tune in next year for the TRUE finale! (Okay, maybe not next year, per say, but still: even I don't know when I'm about to post something.)