AN: Hello! I recently got into the Castlevania series because of the Netflix show. After that, I kind of-sort of threw myself into the games (which I'd seen before, but never took an interest in) with such a crazy passion that I accidentally spent an entire weekend on Symphony of the Night alone, and a day on Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse (I wanted to completely understand the source material for the show!). So, of course, the urge to write fanfiction cropped up, and I, weak as ever to my own whims, gave in.

My plan for this is to be a two-part story. My track record of writing longfics is horrible, so I'm sticking with something safe. Also, writing Alucard is fun, but writing Trevor is a tad bit hard for me. I'd appreciate any and all criticism or comments!

The nights aren't terribly cold, but they allow a certain sort of chill to settle into Trevor's bones; one that often has him staring into the dying embers of their campfire for far longer than he should. Dawn lingers not far away, but besides the chill, Trevor's been finding it increasingly harder to fall into the luring black of sleep.

Perhaps it was the absence of warm drink in the evening, which always served as the fuzzy buffer that more often than not had him snoring away in a hay pile somewhere. Or, perhaps it was the half blood vampire whose eyes seemed to never shift from their resting spot on the empty, dark horizon. True, Trevor was feeling a bit antsy in his company, the same way a hunter feels antsy upon waking up to see a bear nosing through his food. A good analogy, he thinks.

Sypha lies to his side, wrapped in a thick cocoon of her Speaker's robes and Trevor's own cloak, her voice stirring up the thick silence with bouts of sleep leaden sighs and barely there grumbles that don't mean much in her current state. These days, her face remains fixed into a concentrated expression, the area between her eyes scrunched together, even in her state of sleep. Trevor wishes he could smooth those lines out with his finger, but knows better than to try.

Alongside being ambitious, she is also prideful, almost to a frightening degree. A lioness hidden under the facade of a young and beautiful woman. Truly, the kind of woman Trevor may have even entertained the idea of a relationship with, given their few similar natures. But short-lived attractions hold no place in Wallachia now. Not with the promise of death hanging over their heads and the Nighthorde being the thing holding the guillotine.

Not with a dhampir sitting opposite from Sypha, still as a statue, with not even the hint of his chest rising and falling. Trevor swears that at times, Alucard is more akin to a marble sculpture than a person; a marvel of art and beauty that seems like it belongs in the gold-laden halls of a noble family's manor than some dark clearing out in the forest. And yet, here they are, unlikely trio as they are, finding an uncomfortable and heavily awkward footing amongst each other.

Trevor especially.

The first days saw his hand glued to his consecrated whip, waiting almost impatiently for Alucard to stumble and give him a valid reason to lash out. A life's worth of instinct is a hefty thing to try and erase, let alone suppress to any certain degree. Belmont's were bred with the explicit task of slaying all manner of monsters. Especially vampires.

Alucard was an anomaly though, a strange conception of human and beast. What little words he chose to speak were measured, polite… amiable. No edge of unbridled fury or manipulation poisoned his tone. His eyes never lingered on Trevor nor Sypha. He moved at a measurable pace, even if his steps possessed an unearthly grace to them. He never made fuss about anything, though Trevor certainly did. And when blood was spilled, especially in regards to man, there was never a hiccup to his demeanor, just a slight covering of his face, as he excused himself to allow everyone else to recover.

His thirst went unnoticed, if he even had one, but Trevor suspects that the solitary trips out into the woods at dusk say otherwise. Still, Trevor knows enough from his family bestiary that human blood is the most potent balm for a vampire's thirst, and animal blood can only serve as a weak substitute for a short while.

Not so sure about dhampirs, though. That's certainly a new one.

Still, if Alucard does suffer the shortcomings of an incomplete diet, he shows no signs of it. Trevor isn't sure which thought is more troubling: that their potential ally may be weaker than he should be, or that the only way to fix said problem is to give him the actual treat. He certainly knows one thing, and that is that he'll never let Alucard lay a finger on Sypha. He'd rather gut himself than let his teeth meet her neck.

Same for anyone, really. What kind of Belmont would he be to let a creature of the night leech off of human life? Even if the cause is a noble one, it stills leaves a sickening taste in his mouth at the thought of it.

Truly a conflicting dilemma, he thinks. They need Alucard, as loathe as he is to admit it. A starving Alucard? That's a burden more than a solution.

Trevor takes a moment to peek at his right side, where Alucard remains leaned up against the mossy side of a fallen tree. The dhampir's arms rest over the dewy log, his hands placed elegantly over each other as his gaze remains unmoving, his body a static image amongst the nightscape. His coat billows from his form, a dark, gold-trimmed statement of aristocracy. Near his thigh lies the cloak he keeps just for the days where the sun beats down hotly on the earth, its hood a long and droopy thing.

If he feels Trevor staring, he makes no comment on it. Trevor's discovered that Alucard's senses are just as sharp as a full-blooded vampire, if not even more refined than usual. No whispers go unheard, no footsteps or even the smallest of creaks escape his ears. Perhaps that is why he stares so intently, so swept up in the sounds of the forest that he must strain to pick out the noises from each other. This is why Trevor is happy that humans can have selective hearing. He can barely imagine the sensory overload that must be.

Still, it's only a few moments later that Alucard does choose to speak, and he does it without once turning his eyes away. "I believe you should be sleeping." His voice is monotonous, a smooth timbre that even in itself seems strange… unnatural.

Trevor crosses his arms, his head ducking further into the collar of his undershirt. He suddenly wishes that he had the fur of his cloak about him. "Believe me when I say I've been trying."

Alucard says nothing to that. It's almost as if he didn't hear Trevor speak, or simply chose to ignore him for some absurd reason. Trevor glowers at him momentarily, his mouth twisting into a scornful frown, before he's rolling his eyes and blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes.

But then, he is speaking, and he's shifting just enough to look at Trevor, his gold eyes eerily bright in the darkness of the night. Trevor believes it's akin to staring down a hungry wolf, and the visual makes him swallow past a dry throat. "What troubles you, Belmont?"

"What's not troubling me?" Trevor retorts, almost casually with a shrug of his shoulders, and the unreadable expression on Alucard's face spurs him on. "There's a horde of undead and demons ravaging the country. A constantly moving castle spitting out monsters. A centuries old vampire swearing doom on humanity. Take your pick. I'm sure your guess will be right either way."

"Are you just now realizing?" Here, Trevor's glower grows deeper, and Alucard blinks at him slowly. "Forgive the offense. I merely meant that your insomnia has been a product of recent."

"I could name any of the former, but I suppose sleeping next to a vampire is proving to be a little difficult. Not quite used to that one. Almost like curling up next to a starved wolf."

Alucard's eyes lower momentarily, and there's a display of long, pale lashes dipping down to almost touch the swell of his cheekbones. Trevor's notices this briefly, and the small detail has him pausing to look. He eventually shakes his head and averts his eyes, feeling that the observation is almost too intimate.

"I would not bring harm to you nor Sypha." Alucard pulls his hands away from the log, and opts to smooth them over his thighs. Trevor's eyes are back on him at once, and they catch the ominous glint of nails that resemble shards of sharp porcelain rather than bone. "I don't wish to bring harm to any human, good or evil. I only wish to stop my father. And then, upon succeeding in that endeavor, I'll return to my sleep. You will not have to worry about me walking the earth again."

This brings a stunned and thoughtful pause to Trevor, who can't help but feel a pang of bitterness for Alucard. For whatever reason, he is unsure. "You're going to crawl back into that crypt and sleep forever? Can you even do that?"

He receives a slow, resigned nod. "The only thing that awoke me was your and Sypha's intrusion. Rest assured that next time, there will not be a repeat of that."

"So why then?" And really, does Trevor even care? Perhaps not. It's an easy solution to what would otherwise be a messy situation. It had already been set in the deepest reaches of his mind that he may try and kill Alucard soon after his father's death. But that was a foolish thought, because then there would be Sypha to contend with, and honestly, the more Trevor dwells on that plan of action, the more sour it seems to become. So instead, Trevor chooses to huff out a laugh, his voice tinged with light-hearted sarcasm. "Why not disappear into the countryside, find a pretty girl, and settle down? You're already breaking the mold."

At this, Alucard's eyes narrow ever so slightly, but not menacingly. The gold irises turn to meet Trevor's own, and the cold set of them has Trevor wanting to sigh at his inability to recognize a playful quip. "My blood is cursed, Belmont. I cannot fathom the idea of furthering it from myself. The idea is abhorrible." He's blinking away, a slight hiss of breath passing by his parted lips. "If it were possible at all, might I add."

"Your parents conceived you. Hell, who is the say that you couldn't try?" And really, this is trudging into conversational territory that is both baffling and morbidly interesting. Trevor Belmont shouldn't be discussing the possibilities of vampires and half-breeds being able to procreate, let alone with a dhampir, but forethought has never been one of his stronger qualities.

"I don't want to." Alucard's voice grows colder, harder, his tone edging on what almost seems like annoyance. "As soon as Dracula is done away with," he reiterates once more, "I will lock myself away, so that there will never be mention of me or my family again. My family's curse will be wiped clean of the earth, and all will be as it should be."

Then the walls are going up again, and Alucard is turning to focus his luminescent eyes on the dark forest once more. His posture suggests that he'll have no more words with Trevor, and the hunter huffs out a sigh before resting his cheek against the round of his hand, his tired eyes narrowed bitterly at the outline of the dhampir's side.

If the bastard is so intent on locking himself up and throwing away the key, then so be it. Trevor doesn't care either way.

It had always been Alucard's idea that they travel by day, regardless of Sypha's desire to do whatever they needed to accommodate him.

"There will be less danger. We will be apt to crossing paths with others, and news of recent attacks will reach our ears much faster." He had said all of this under the heavy hood of his cape, his eyes barely visible beneath its dark shadows. As slithers of the sun began to peak in at the slightest incline of his head, Trevor had noticed that his skin was unnervingly pale, even more so in the revealing light of day.

"Will that not be uncomfortable for you? Surely it will leave you fatigued…" Sypha spares a concerned glance at Trevor, which he had answered with a half-hearted shrug.

"I am not as susceptible to daytime as others are. Rest easy, Sypha. I will be fine."

That had been that, and despite Sypha's words having had some sort of merit to them, it wasn't terribly cumbersome or slowing. Alucard showed no signs of tiring in the sunlight, but Trevor didn't miss the way his eyes would narrow during the times the sun would break through the thick cloud coverage. The dhampir would pull on his hood, leaving only the pale outline of his lips to be seen, and walk with his eyes lowered.

Targoviste remained a good distance away, and the constant stops at villages both standing and recently ransacked slowed their progress bit by bit. Their encounters with the Nighthorde had been mercifully sparse, and the bulk of their forces had always disappeared before they could fully stumble onto them. Only the stragglers that remained behind to feast on the carrion posed a threat, and not much of a one at that. Funny, Trevor thinks, how unobservant the monsters can be when they're bent over the dead and cooling corpse of a human.

Throughout their small skirmishes in their short time together, Trevor had come to realize a blaring weakness that left him questioning his own strengths. It had been on full display during his fight with Alucard, but he'd been blind to realize it before, and with two other capable fighters twisting into the fray with him, it became all the more obvious.

At a range, he was deadly. He could flail and direct his whip in ways that would leave others reeling, their eyes going cross as they tried to keep track of the blessed cord. It was his pride, after all, the signature weapon of his family, and the one thing that could often incite fear into the eyes of the any monster. It was soaked in generations of blood, be it undead or demon. It was a bane, in every sense of the word.

Past the whip was where Trevor's defenses became flimsy. He may have been trained with a shortsword, but it was far from his preferred weapon and more of a fallback for which he more often than not prayed he wouldn't have to use. This often saw Alucard having to be the one to knock away encroaching monsters, or Sypha directing a gust of frozen wind to knock them off their balance, long enough for Trevor to scuttle out of the fray and back to his primary weapon.

Honestly, he entertained the thought of gluing the damn thing to his hand. It seemed everything these days tried to snatch it out of his hands.

Still, weakness accounted for, it was also a clear indicator of how well their strange tandem worked together. How convenient, that they all seemed to cover for what the other lacked. "We make quite the team, no?" Sypha had bellowed proudly after a quickly demolished ambush, and as loathe as Trevor was to do it, he had to admit that she was right. They fit together like a eyesore of a puzzle, all bringing different colors and designs to the table, but ultimately painting a picture that was both complete and captivating to the outside eye.

But most of all, Alucard was the standout slayer, and this shone through quickly as his powers began to regenerate over the passing week. Trevor paled to think of how much shorter their "fight" would have been had the dhampir been at full capacity.

"When my father lashed out at me, he had dealt me a considerable amount of damage. I had originally planned to sleep for longer than I did, but it seems that fate has intervened. I am not fully recovered yet, and I fear that it may yet be a while before I am back to my old self."

"Hope you get it all back before we reach Targoviste." Trevor eyes him warily, his back resting against the blood-splattered bricks of a home dotting the small village they'd stopped in for the night. Said small village had been the victim of a few stray monsters leaking out from the mass of the Nighthorde, but luck had been on the peasants' side as the three of them had just been wandering in as the attack started.

Alucard pulls back the hem of his coat, letting the silver longsword slide back into its elegant sheath. The blackened blood of the Nighthorde dots his hands and stains his silvery hair in small places, where the strands matte together ever so slightly under the viscous liquid. Sypha stands to the side, off a bit on her own, tending to the weeping and fear-stricken form of an elderly woman who seems to be in the beginning stages of mourning. Trevor spies the bloodied form of a linen bag covering what he can only assume to be the remains of her lost one.

"I predict that I'll have the majority of my powers back before we make our ascent into my father's castle. However… their return can be quickened by certain means, that of which I'm certain you would kill me for entertaining the thought of." Gold irises glance up to fix Trevor with a mostly flat look, but he swears he can almost see an edge of resentment in them.

"Our deal was to save Wallachia, not add to the body count. You seem to be getting by just fine, so why start complaining now?" Trevor rolls the length of his whip about his hand, looping and looping the cord about itself until he can hang it off his belt once again. He steps away from the way, and can feel a sticky dampness clinging to the back of his shirt. He'll have to wash it soon.

"You want me to be stronger when we face my father. This is how." Alucard's hand rests on the hilt of his sword, his skin only a few shades lighter than the gleaming metal of its sheath. Under the growing intensity of the moonlight, his hair is dyed to an almost bone-white color, blending seamlessly into the pigment of his face.

Yet his eyes play a stark contrast, full of unusual color and a clear reminder of what he is. Trevor's hand slips into the belt of his breeches, his fingers gripping the thin edge of a throwing knife hidden away from the common eye. He pulls the blade free, tossing it over and over in his hand before suddenly thrusting it out, its razor sharp edge pointed at the spot between Alucard's eyes. It never leaves his hand, and Alucard does not flinch.

"You put your mouth on someone, and I'm driving this thing into your chest. Is that clear?" Trevor's eyes go gaunt, his brows furrowing and casting sharp lines across his face

"You fear I will kill someone." Alucard eyes the throwing dagger with distaste, though his stance remains relaxed, unthreatened.

"Damn right, I do."

"I will not. I never have. Never a human."

The throwing knife lowers a smidgen, and there's clear skepticism on Trevor's face. "Bullshit."

"You don't believe me? I suspected as much. My answer remains the same, however." Alucard finally moves, his feet carrying him forward in careful, slow strides. Trevor's arm begins to fall from its position, his stance softening a bit as the knife comes down to his side. "My mother, you've heard of her. She was a woman of science, but furthermore, a woman who believed that humanity, despite its flaws, deserved the right to live. Even as she stood burning on the pyre built by those who feared and hated her, she begged me to spare every single one of them. That was her dying wish."

Trevor allows his eyes to lower, the sight of Alucard's advance stirring something uneasy and prickly in him. It was akin to a wolf stalking its prey, the way his eyes seemed to bore into Trevor, unmoving and bright and eerie in the darkness of the night.

The claws and fangs only lended to his trepidation.

"Do you think, for a moment, that I would forsake that wish?" Alucard's footsteps carry him past Trevor, where he makes the sharp turn to stand at his back, his height putting him a few inches over the hunter. Despite how his skin dances with alarm, Trevor doesn't turn to face him. "I have ways of feeding myself that are not senselessly violent, Belmont. Do you think I go about ripping the throats out of every innocent person I meet? If that were the case, you would not be standing here, alive as you are."

There's a whisper of wind at Trevor's ear, and he turns quickly, his shoulders squaring as a slew of words build on his tongue, but fall away once he sees that Alucard is no longer behind him. It takes a few moments of floundering about cluelessly before he spots the billowing coat disappearing around the bend of a brick wall, Alucard's form marred by shadows that play upon the human eye's weakness.

Trevor curses beneath his breath, one hand coming to rub at the back of his neck as the other tucks away the throwing knife. He feels another set of eyes upon him, and turns to where Sypha still remained, the old woman's head pressed against her shoulder. Despite this, Sypha's eyes were trained on him, her lips parted in a perplexed expression.

Trevor shakes his head at her.

Alucard returns at dawn, where he meets a revitalized Sypha and a hungover Trevor waiting for him outside the town's inn. Trevor, despite the pounding of his temples and the heavy sway to his vision, notices the crimson staining the corner of the dhampir's mouth.

He glares, and Alucard straightens his back, his gold eyes glancing down the bridge of his nose at the hunter. Sypha glances between the two of them, and sighs heavily, her eyes coming to a dramatic roll as she snags the cloth of Trevor's cape and pulls him forward. "We are all friends, here. Good friends. Great friends. The absolute best of each other's company." Her voice is heavy with sarcasm.

"Couldn't have asked for a better crew, honestly." Trevor drawls, his voice slurring over the words, and his eyes remain fixed on Alucard, even as Sypha pulls him by. His head turns painfully until he can bare the angle no more. The motion sends a bolt of pain through his unfocused eyes and his boots seem to catch on each other as he stumbles forward. Sypha is barely able to catch his weight and steady him.

"Of course, first town we find on our long journey, and you spend the majority of the night drinking it away. Brilliant, Trevor!" She jerks him upright, which has him groaning out a noise of protest.

"I will throw up on you, and believe me when I say that it's ready to happen at any moment now. Don't test me."

"I will piss in your tankard." Sypha retorts, and Trevor goes quiet at that, because honestly, she probably would.

Alucard's voice startles an indignant noise out of Trevor, because suddenly he is right behind the two of them, and his voice is uncomfortably close to the back of Trevor's ear. "Have we finished yet?"

"Yes," Sypha groans at the same time that Trevor grumbles out a slurred, "No".

That morning begins as a rough test of constitution for Trevor, who, somehow in the break between Gresit and their most recent stop, had forgotten how to hold his drink properly. "I doubt you ever could." Had been Sypha's sharp retort, which had garnered a jumbled mess of half words and incomprehensible noises from the hungover hunter.

"Find the biggest tree you can and dump my body there. Or better yet, let's turn around and go back." Sypha's brow holds back a bead of sweat, and her face is drawn into a hot glare. Even by noon, Trevor had yet to snap out of his stupor, his body swaying from left to right and threatening to spill out of her hold. Even he was tiring of his hangover, which seemed to be dragging on longer than usual

"We are two hours out of town. You can crawl your way back, if you must, but we're not turning around." He begins to slip to the right, his weight threatening to topple Sypha with him, but she yanks him back into a standing position. "Urgh, can you at least try to be helpful? What are you to do if a creature were wont to wander into our path?"

"You've never seen me fight drunk."

"You shouldn't fight drunk at all." She grumbles half-heartedly. Sypha huffs out a breath of frustration, her right arm beginning to grow strained from Trevor's dead weight. "Why must you be so heavy…"

There's a pause to her steps, and she prepares to sling Trevor back on her arm, but then the weight is disappearing from her limb, and Trevor is mumbling out a noise of protest. Sypha glances over the fur of the hunter's cloak, and spies Alucard supporting the opposite side of Trevor.

Of course, the sudden proximity seems to raise Trevor's hackles. "Woah, woah, cold! What the hell are you doing?"

"Supporting Lady Sypha. Perhaps, if you had not chosen to spend the night in a tavern, this could have been avoided." Despite the protest, Alucard is careful to try and hold himself at a distance, his touch fleeting and spare. Yet, he still bears the greatest amount of Trevor's weight.

Still, it's the first time they've shared contact since their skirmish together, and the association of danger is still there for Trevor. There's also a part of him that balks at the dhampir's proximity, as if the touch of Alucard's hand might poison him and render him ill.

"My choices, not yours."

Alucard spares a fleeting look from the corner of his eyes, and his nose scrunches up briefly, as if the lingering smell of ale is sickening. "I ask that you refrain next time."

The afternoon is long, and it's not until early evening that Trevor's senses return to himself, and he's left with a throbbing headache as punishment. Sypha complains of a sore arm, and Alucard levels him with looks ranging from wary to outright critical disapproval. Trevor purposely turns his back to the both of them, and tosses his cloak over his head as he lies down to sleep later that night.

He ignores the bitter tang of spilt ale on his clothes, and tries not to let guilt get the best of him.

"Rise and shine. We have a lot of distance to cover today, and there will be no hangover for you to use as an excuse."

Sypha leans over Trevor, the robes about her body blocking the first few rays of the sun out of his eyes. His cloak is pulled up to his nose, his blue eyes narrowed in protest.

"Not an excuse if it's true." He grumbles and pulls the cloak over his burning and red-tinted eyes.

There's a hand fisting into his cloak not even a moment later, and Sypha is pulling it away and surrendering Trevor to the full brunt of the cool morning air. "You're like a child sometimes, I swear. You remind me of rousing young children from their sleep. Now, get up. Right this instant."

Trevor rolls over, and feels a hollow pang shoot through his stomach. He had been unable to eat yesterday, what with his stomach rolling and threatening to expel all the ale he'd drank. In hindsight, he wishes he'd found a tree to vomit behind. He probably would have sobered much faster if he'd done that.

His hands splay over his abdomen, the faint rumbles of hunger wringing a groan from him. Trevor's eyes drag over their makeshift campsite. It's merely a pile of pale embers by this point, with only that and a surrounding pile of ashes left to indicate their presence.

That, and skewered upon a stick and resting on a torn piece of cloth lies a small strip of meat, no bigger than his hand, but still looking better than anything he's seen this morning. Rabbit, Trevor presumes, by the looks of it.

There's movement to his right, and Trevor notices that Alucard is pulling his hood over the crown of his long, silvery hair. He's seated on a smooth, large rocky outcropping, his sword resting by his side and a leg crossed over the other. The dhampir is making a small motion with his boots, akin to that of a person waiting almost impatiently. As strange as it is, it's probably the most animated that Trevor has ever seen him.

"You are welcome." Alucard murmurs quietly, and Trevor swears he can hear the barest amount of sarcasm in his voice.

"What about Sypha?" Trevor asks, eyeing the greasy game like a starving man… which wasn't too large of an exaggeration.

"I got two." The speaker says triumphantly, now standing at her full height and towering over Trevor's side. And yes, he does notice the two discarded sticks tossed only a foot or two from the fire.

"Ah, special treatment. I see." There's no real contention in his voice. Trevor's expression even turns bright as he reaches for the makeshift skewer, his mouth filling with water at the prospect of eating it.

If anything, he's glad that Alucard places Sypha's needs higher than his own. Trevor is used to scrounging by, especially after his family's excommunication from the Church. Even though he's sure that Speakers probably don't fare much better, he at least knows the bare minimum of food that he could get by with.

The humble meal is swallowed in only a few bites, and it leaves Trevor craving more, but life isn't so simple. Especially not in his predicament, and with their limited travel space. No sacks, no caravan, just the clothes on their backs and whatever food the wilds will offer them.

What's left of the campfire is stomped out by Trevor's boot, and the ashes are spread amongst the ground. Alucard's sword goes back to his side, and Sypha returns from a nearby stream with a filled waterskin, which Trevor nearly tears out of her grip once he sees it.

"Rude," she mumbles as he drains half of it, her arms coming to cross over her chest. "Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?"

Trevor pushes the waterskin back into Sypha's hands, his braced forearm coming to wipe at his mouth. "No, my mother taught me how to use throwing knives and that crying wouldn't get me anything in life."

"Your mother sounds like a strange woman."

The sound of Alucard's voice is almost jarring. Trevor turns and fixes him with a challenging look, a brow arching as his lips rose into a smirk, "Could very well say the same to you."

In hindsight, it was certainly a poor choice of words. Trevor would have revoked them if he could have. Alucard's mouth twists into a sneer, and it's the first raw display of emotion since Trevor had managed to wound him in their battle. His teeth are bared, a rare showing of the full length of his fangs, and Trevor can faintly hear the shrill sound of a hiss slip past them.

"I jest," Trevor backtracks, his hands coming up into a gesture of goodwill. He feels Sypha's elbow dig into his back, a clear indicator that the quip was in bad taste.

Alucard's face relaxes, and his head dips down, his eyes moving away from Trevor to some unseen thing. At his sides, his hands unfurl from the fists they had been, and Trevor can see red crescents in his skin. "Do not speak ill of my mother." His voice is soft, and barely a murmur at that.

"Hey, I won't even bring her up again. That's obviously a sore spot for you," Trevor makes a motion of settling his cloak over his shoulders, but really, he just wants to smother the unease of the situation. "...Understandably."

Alucard says nothing, and slips past both hunter and Seeker, his footsteps taking him back to the mottled road that they were travelling on. Trevor releases a sigh laden with curses.

"Oh, what a wonderful day we have ahead of ourselves. I'm positively brimming with excitement at the aspect of it!" Sypha's scoff is petty, and she pushes past Trevor, her legs carrying her quickly to fall in step behind Alucard.

Trevor watches for a moment, debating whether or not he's even welcome to the entourage anymore, before taking off into a sprint in order to catch up.

The next bit of civilization they run into isn't even big enough to be considered a village. Only a lone tavern and a handful of rickety houses govern the muddy road leading through them. There's not even an inn for travelers to rent out, and Sypha is vocally annoyed by the lack of accommodations. Her excitement at finding the standing of houses had died almost immediately.

Trevor tells her to find a comfy looking spot on the ground and make do with it. Though she didn't complain much of it, he could see the displeasure written clearly on her face, in the way that her brows furrowed deeply and her lips were thin pressed. Sypha gives no clear indication of where she's heading, and promptly disappears on her own.

There's a stable settled off to the far side of a rundown home, and after a surprisingly short lived visit to the tavern, Trevor quietly makes his way over to it. He pushes past the cheap wooden gate and finds exactly what he's looking for in the form of a hay pile. There's a small clap of his hands together before he's settling down, spreading out his cloak over the small incline of hay and wiggling ever so slightly until he's found a comfortable spot to sink into.

The stable roof sports holes and sliced openings in it, and from his spot, Trevor can see where the moon has stopped in the sky for the time being, full and round and casting a comforting light over the bucolic village. The drink from the tavern warms his face and chest, and while more sober than he would have originally liked, it's enough to promise at least a little sleep, and Trevor will make do with what he can.

His hand slides to where he knows his gold pouch is, and when it palms over the bag, the pitiful amount of coins he feels drags a groan out of him. As it's going, he won't be able to afford the next town they choose to rest at, and that's taking into account a room and a drink. Trevor feels indignancy surge through him, and he mentally berates himself for the lack of forethought.

"One or the other, Trevor," He murmurs to himself, arms coming to cross over his chest as the cool night air begins to settle into his skin. "You chose your drink, now you must lie with it."

Sleep finds him quickly, which is strange, but completely welcome at first. However, it soon turns into a fitful bout, as Trevor finds himself floating between wakefulness and the edge of unconsciousness, but never fully both. He tosses and turns, sending strings of hay splattering all over his clothes and cloak, and it's not until he hears the faint creak of wood moving that he eventually concedes the fight. He wrenches himself up into a sitting position, his eyes bleary and settling on where the sound had emanated from.

Trevor reaches for where his shortsword is resting beside him, and draws it from its sheath, his voice rough and throat dry as he points it toward the gate, "If you've come for trouble, then I'll give you fair warning and say that I'm not in the best of moods right now." The shadows cast by the stable's roof eclipse most of his sight, but they don't hide the faint shimmer of eyes that break through their inky cover. Trevor releases a small breath, his head shaking as the shortsword is lowered. "A word of advice, but it may not be a bad thing to try and make some noise if you're approaching someone you know. Being sneaky? That's how people get stabbed."

Alucard steps through the shadows, the form of his cape and coat coming into view as he stops before Trevor's resting spot. "Forgive me. It's a… force of habit."

"Yes, well," The shortsword is shoved back into its sheath, and Trevor readjusts himself so that he's not so much sinking into the hay pile as he is just sitting on top of it now. He leans forward, elbows coming to rest on top of his thighs as he regards the dhampir with tired eyes. "I'm sure you didn't just stop by to say hello."

"I didn't. I actually have information pertinent to Targoviste."

"Oh?" Really, though, it shouldn't be any surprise that Alucard didn't simply stop by to talk. Trevor thinks, idly, that the man mustn't do anything unless it requires purpose, which sounds awful to him, personally. Spontaneity would do him some good… Or perhaps not. Alucard is unnerving enough as it is. "You actually talked to people?"

"I spoke to the Speakers of Gresit. Why do you find that so odd now?"

Trevor shrugs, "Speakers are weird folk. It didn't cross my mind at the time."

There's a pause from Alucard, but only a short one before he's picking up where he left off, "Refugees passing by the town have said that Targoviste has been strangely empty as of late."

That has Trevor perking up, "Empty? How so?"

"In recent days, there has not been any presence of the Nighthorde or otherwise. Besides being filled with bones, the city is empty, and so is the sky." Alucard shifts his weight so that he's leaning against one of the stable's posts, a hand propped against his hip as he speaks.

Trevor narrows his eyes, his mind piecing together the information. He doesn't like what it insinuates, "So you're telling me that there's a chance that the castle has moved? We're just wasting our time then?"

"It is a possibility, or," Alucard's eyes follow the streams of moonlight to where they're peeking in from the roof's holes, "Perhaps there is something sinister at play here."

"You mean a trap." Alucard nods, and Trevor hisses out an annoyed breath, his fingers coming to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Fucking great. So we're walking into this blindly?"

"Unless you have another plan of action, then yes, we are. We could spend time trying to decipher what's happening, but then-"

"That's just wasting time, and time means more bodies." Trevor gives a stiff shake of his head. "Then we just walk into it, and pray that nothing happens."

"As long as we can get in," Alucard departs from the post, his footsteps carrying him closer, "I believe that is the most important goal at hand, currently. But I will warn you; my father's castle is a living thing, a chaotic structure that changes constantly. I fear it will be even more erratic now. There's a good chance that we could find ourselves lost in it for a frightening amount of time."

"Didn't you used to live in the thing?"

Alucard hesitates, but then shakes his head, slowly, "No. I spent the majority of my time with my mother, and my father abandoned his structure to walk the land as a man would. Because that is what she wanted of him."

Trevor's curiosity is piqued at that, "But you found yourself back in the castle somehow?"

"I knew it would be where I could find him, after he had learned of what had happened." The dhampir's hand raises to his chest, where the large scar of his father's claws lies beneath his shirt. "I believed he would listen to reason. I was wrong. I offered that he kill the perpetrator of my mother's death instead. He refused again, and in turn, refused to spare any innocents."

"Can't believe I'm saying this, but I guess I can see where he's coming from." At the slight look of astonishment on Alucard's face, Trevor quickly tacks on. "Not that it justifies any of this shit. Not at all."

"I would have done it myself, if I knew he wasn't going to beforehand. But never did I imagine he would go to these lengths." There's a barely audible sigh slipping from Alucard, a forlorn noise full of sorrow. "I loved my mother more than anything. I could fathom no place in my heart for anyone except for her. I thought, 'Surely, if I must be in this much pain, then it must be absolute torture for him'. I was right. But that doesn't give him the authority to pass judgment like this."

It's perhaps the most tender thing Trevor has heard from the dhampir, and the entire thing is honestly a bit jarring. It's becoming harder and harder to separate monster from man, because for every snapshot of Alucard baring his teeth or shredding something with his claws, he's spilling something intimate about his feelings and his family.

The longer he spends with this man, the more he's growing further and further apart from the monster that Trevor initially thought he was.

"I can see that this is becoming too personal. You'll have to excuse me." Alucard's form turns, his shoulder eclipsing his face as he prepares to leave Trevor alone.

"No, not really." The dhampir's footsteps pause, his gold eyes glancing over his shoulder at the hunter. "Listen, you're talking to a living and breathing example of a crumbled family dynamic. I understand the whole thing of not having enough power to hold something together, okay? It's not just going into one ear and out the other."

"Then it was selfish of me to have tried to push my own concerns onto you."

"You've got a strange way of perceiving things. For as much as I've complained on this trip - and let's be brutally honest, I've not shut my mouth for a long while - I think you've earned your fair share of bellyaching." Trevor's face lights up into a smirk, especially once Alucard turns to face him once more.

Alucard says nothing to that at first, but Trevor can almost see the clockwork going in his eyes. "I appreciate the offer, but I've never been wont to complain for anything. It will not change things."

"It'll take some weight off your shoulders." It doesn't matter, as Trevor can already see that Alucard won't be opening up to him on the issue again. So instead, he chooses to shift the conversation to something else. "So you really plan on throwing yourself into an endless sleep after this? Is there nothing worth sticking around for?"

"My family will be completely gone after our battle. There will be nothing left for me." That shouldn't sting as much as it does, Trevor thinks. Worse yet, Trevor gets the sneaking suspicion that Alucard has been repeating this to himself more than anyone else.

"There could be," Trevor suggests, his voice quieting to a soft degree. "Listen, I know your parents are probably the only two things in your world, but there's a lot more outside of that."

"You would ask me to continue wandering around Wallachia with no purpose?"

There's a look of exasperation on Trevor's face as he fights back the urge to roll his eyes, "Alright, share with me this: before Targoviste and before the Nighthorde attacks… before everything that led up to your mother's death, what was it that you wanted to do most?"

Alucard seems to contemplate this quietly, his eyes moving from Trevor's face to various unseen things around the stable. "I… wanted to help my mother with her work."

"She was a healer, right?"

"A doctor." Alucard corrects him.

Trevor splays his arms wide, as if the answer is obvious. "Sounds like a good enough purpose?"

Alucard releases a quietly held breath, the soft sounds of some unintelligible word or two dying on his lips. Trevor can see it on his face, the conflict of interest and the ensuing despair of not being able to make a choice. Or, at least not the one he believes Alucard wants to make. "No… no. That's a foolish sentiment."

"There's no arguing with you, then." Trevor sighs, and let's himself slip back down into the pile of hay. "Whatever. Can't say I didn't try."

"Should I leave you alone to sleep?"

"You can do anything you want, as long as it doesn't involve you standing there and staring at me all night." That's a creepy visual, and one that doesn't seem too far out of the realm of possibility.

"I should see to it that Lady Sypha is safe then." Trevor doesn't bother to wait for Alucard to leave, instead turning on his side and curling into a semi-comfortable position.

"See to that, then. I'm going to sleep."

Alucard slips out of the stable silently, with not even the creak of the wooden gate rousing Trevor this time.

They were lucky to have found the abandoned cabin a few nights later. Returning to the road usually promised cold nights of sleeping on the edge of the woods with naught but their clothes and a shoddy campfire to keep them warm. While the cabin offered only a meager amount of space and a single bed to share between them, it was still better than anything they'd had outside of towns and villages.

Trevor had leaned over the firepit and stared up into the chimney to check for any blockage, and was thrilled to see that there was none. He'd laughed, a raspy, excited noise as he turned to speak to Sypha, but had found that she'd already climbed onto the hay-filled mattress, her body curled in on itself and her breathing even, relaxed.

"Well, shit. Was going to ask her to light a fire, but I guess that's out of the question now." Trevor, who'd been hunched by the fire pit, falls back and allows himself to sit. His hands roam around the various pockets and hidden alcoves of his gear, but he should have known that he wouldn't have a flint and steel on him.

Alucard comes to kneel near the dead ashes of the last flame, wordlessly inspecting it before instructing Trevor, "Find something for a kindling. I will take care of it."

Trevor sends him a confused look, but quickly obliges, snatching up what few flammable materials he can find around the painfully small cabin. The single rickety cabinet yields a worn cloth, and as loathe as he is to do it, he finds the marred form of a book hidden underneath the bed. The words are so smudged from use, he can barely read it, and it seems as though pages had been plucked at random from the spine.

"Suppose we'll need actual wood?" He dumps the few supplies by Alucard, and straightens into a stand. Alucard nods quietly, already assembling the sparse materials into the fire pit. "Right, well, I'll be back soon I guess."

The night is dark and cold, and Trevor doubts that he'll find anything super useful in the dew-soaked terrain surrounding the cabin. After an half-hour's search, he does manage to assemble a decent looking pile of dead twigs and branches. It won't burn all night, but it's better than sitting in the cold.

He returns to the cabin, where it seems that Alucard hasn't moved, and drops the firewood onto the floor. That wrings a flinch out of him and a pointed look from Alucard once he's realized what he's done, and Trevor turns warily to see if Sypha has awoken. The Speaker mumbles something softly under her breath, and turns away from the two, her back now facing them as she curls towards the wall.

"Sorry, sorry," Trevor's whispered apology is full of chagrin, and he retakes his spot next to Alucard, waiting for whatever it is the dhampir is going to do.

Alucard pulls the thickest of the branches from the pile, and places them on top of the kindling. And then, similar to Sypha's own magic, his fingertips are producing a flame, and the kindling begins to catch fire, sending small, glowing embers floating up towards the chimney. The only difference is that the orbs of fire that he produces are black at their core, suggesting something much darker than the magic that Sypha creates.

"This'll probably sound stupid, but I should have known." And really, Trevor hadn't thought about Alucard using magic, but it should have been expected. Half vampire or full, it was probably in his blood to be able to do so.

"This is all I can manage for now." Alucard leans back, away from the slowly growing fire as the kindling catches on the wood, producing sharp crackles as the material begins to burn. "It's nothing but a shadow of what I will be able to do."

"Yeah, about that," Trevor shucks off his cape, and tosses it up onto the bed where it lands at Sypha's boots. "How is that coming along? The whole regeneration thing?"

"Painfully slow." Trevor can already feel where this conversation is leading, and really, he's not quite in the mood to entertain it. Alucard turns his eyes, bright and sharp and brilliantly gold, towards him, and Trevor is once again vividly aware that their companion is not all human. It's like every interaction is a constant, frightening reminder. "I… suppose you haven't lightened on your stance?"

The hunter pats his whip, where it remains curled and hung from his belt. "Depends on whether or not you want this thing wrapped around your neck?"

There's a moment where Alucard's eyes drop to the now steadily burning flames, before they're flitting up again to regard Trevor with something akin to hesitation. "If that is what it took."

Trevor falters, his mouth opening on silent words, and he flounders for a good bit before shaking his head, skeptically, "You'd let me basically hold you at death's bay if it meant you could feed properly?" There's another shake of his head, his lips are spreading into a dubious smile, "You've got to be getting desperate to agree to that."

"I only care about our upcoming battle. My level of thirst matters not to me, but the extent of my powers do. The fact that they are directly correlated to each other is merely an unfortunate link." Alucard says this as if he's had to explain it a hundred times. His expression darkens to a despondent and jaded one.

"Listen…" Trevor begins, but he has no immediate words. What can he say to Alucard that will justify himself, other than to bring up the fact that he's still inherently a vampire and that no good Belmont would let one feed from the unsuspecting masses? At this point, it's a battle of morality rather than what's best for everyone, because Trevor already knows the answer to that. He just doesn't like it. Still, his next words surprise even himself. "We'll work something out soon, alright?"

It even seems to catch Alucard off guard. He blinks, slowly, at Trevor, his eyes widened ever so slightly. However, it doesn't take him long to recover, and soon he's back to his bland expressions and toneless voice. "Very well, then."

Trevor expects to sit in silence with him for the rest of the night, but then Alucard is standing swiftly, and the cloak is being pulled off of his shoulders and tossed aside onto the bed. Trevor watches him, warily, from his spot on the floor, his brows furrowing in confusion. "What are you doing now?"

"You and Lady Sypha must eat." It's all Alucard offers as he tiptoes around Trevor, taking the very few steps needed to reach the cabin's door.

"That tells me a lot."

"I am going hunting ," Alucard places a heavy amount of emphasis on the last word, and his tone suggests that he's growing weary of talking. "You should stay alert and guard the cabin. I will return shortly, perhaps in an hour's time."

There's some sort of irony in the statement, that Alucard is preparing to head off into the woods to secure another dinner for them, whilst Trevor continually denies the dhampir a proper meal. "Try not to die out there. We still need you for this fight."

The dhampir pauses in the doorway, his hand resting against the frame as he contemplates his words. "Rest assured, I am more safe at night than any other time of day."

Trevor hears the door close gently, and then he's releasing a pent up sigh, his eyes closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The fire will need to be tended to, and as tired as he suddenly feels, Alucard is right. He must stay awake to keep watch over Sypha. So he scoots back, until his back hits the edge of the bed, and tries to find a comfortable position to lounge in as the fire crackles and casts ominous shadows over the wall.

The minutes are roughly counted, but when Trevor deigns that an hour has passed, he rises from his spot on the floor and quietly exits the cabin. The night is dark, with the moon in its waning phase and the trees towering like black statues over the cabin. Trevor's arms come to wrap about himself, and his breath is only an exodus of fog, a testament to how cold the night actually is. He suddenly regrets not bringing his cloak out with him.

The forest is silent, save for the occasional hoot of an owl, or the sound of the wind animating the trees. Trevor waits, and waits, and can't help but worry when there's no sign of Alucard in the canopy of trees. His fingers are beginning to turn numb from the cold, and the conflict of returning inside to wait or venturing out into the wilds to try and find him makes itself known.

He can't leave Sypha alone, however, and to go alone in the forest would be foolish and dangerous. The Nighthorde is one thing, but there are more monsters than just them that lurk around the forests at night. Trevor knows that werecreatures of all kinds do not require a full moon to hunt, and he'd make a tasty dinner for one of their starving ranks.

He's about to give up his vigil and return inside when he hears the rustling of a bush, and suddenly Trevor is going taut, his stance widening to that of a combat one, and his hand settling over his whip. "You have but a few seconds to make yourself known. If not, I'm lashing out, do you hear?"

Silence follows his threat, and Trevor grits his teeth, before preparing to route out whatever was hiding. His hand twitches, and the whip is only a short moment away from striking where the sound emanated from, but then a figure does emerge from the dark, and Trevor pauses in his planned attack.

It's a wolf, ghostly white and hulking, but not unusually so. It strides towards him, carefully, slowly, and Trevor notices that in its mouth lie the flanks of two separate rabbits. He would have questioned why an animal such as this would be approaching him the way it is, if not for the eyes that gave it away.

They were the same gold of Alucard's own.

Then, as if on queue, the wolf is spitting out the corpses of the rabbits, and its form begins to shimmer, like a mirage on the horizon, and with bursts of a faint violet color erupting in the ripples. Not a moment later, Alucard is standing before him, humanoid again and lacking the blood that marred the wolf's maw. He bends down, retrieves the two rabbits by hand, and makes his way towards the cabin.

Trevor relaxes a smidgen, but disbelief is apparent on his face. "Not even going to say anything about that?" He turns as Alucard walks by, and follows him back into the warmth of the cabin. The fire is still going, but barely so, and Trevor curses as he sees it. "Probably should have kept an eye on that."

"Did you think I would catch them by hand? Use a meager little trap?" Alucard lays the rabbits by the hearth, and takes a seat by the bed, his eyes lingering on Trevor expectantly.

Trevor realizes what he's meaning for, and pulls free a knife, turning the blade towards himself and handing the handle to Alucard. He joins him by the hearth, pulling out his own little blade, and grabs a rabbit to set to work on. "Maybe. I feel like I'm overlooking a lot of things I should know, recently."

The sound of the skinning is wet and visceral, overpowering the popping of the firewood. "Your family bestiary contains nothing about me. For as eager as you are to call me vampire, you seem to be continually seeing me as something otherwise."

"You don't seem too intent on calling yourself that." Trevor yanks hard, pulls away the fur coat of the rabbit in harsh motions. "You don't seem intent on settling on either side, honestly. I don't know where to place you."

"Neither do I." Alucard states simply, mirroring Trevor's own work. The fur peels away from his rabbit much easier. Trevor pauses briefly, his eyes settling on Alucard's face. From here, he can see the somber look forming over his features. "I have a claim on both sides, but no real position for me on either. I can only try, as I might, to coexist with both parts of myself."

"Isn't it enough to just try and be human?" It's foolish, and Trevor knows it. Alucard is as much a part of the night than he is a part of the day, and the duality of his nature isn't something that can be simply forgotten, or buried under the pretense of something false.

"I've tried. My father tried." The rabbit's coat is tossed aside, and here Trevor can see Alucard sawing away its limb, spewing fresh blood onto his hands. A leg peels free from its body, and he places it on the warming hearth. "But try as I might, there will always be a constant reminder that I am, at my core, still a creature of the night. Whether it be my claws," Rip, tear, blood and skin. "My eyes," The blade sinks in again, tearing flesh from bone, separating tendons from each other. "Or my fangs." Alucard places the knife at his side, his fingers gleaming brightly with the sticky blood of the rabbit. "I will never be able to hide from what I truly am."

Trevor is not even halfway done with his own rabbit, its corpse momentarily forgotten in his lap. Alucard wipes away the blood from his hands, staining the blackness of his cloak a dark red. Trevor watches, rapt with the inclination that the dhampir wouldn't let the blood go to waste. He's surprised to see that Alucard has no involvement with it.

"Sorry," Trevor finds himself blurting out, and he shrugs, not knowing what to say to follow up. The job description only covered killing vampires, not learning to sympathize with their plight. But Trevor also knows that if it were Dracula he were speaking to, he would not be as nearly inclined to have any empathy for him. Rather, he'd probably be fervent with trying to kill him instead.

"Why do you apologize? It's of no concern to you." Alucard begins tending to the dying flames again, stoking the fire back to life slowly as he prepares it for roasting. The gentle poke and prod of the fire iron stirs Sypha's sleep, and the two of them exchange a cautious look as she shifts once more.

When it's clear that she hasn't awoken, their conversation continues, "You can't tell me something like that and expect me to feel nothing. Listen, I know I'm an asshole. You know I'm an asshole. But that doesn't mean that I can't sympathize."

"You didn't seem to want to when we first met each other."

"Turns out all it'd take was some clear communication. Who would have guessed?" Lo and behold, Trevor sees Alucard's lips twitch into a small smile at that. The smile is fleeting, fought back ever so slightly, but then it seems that Alucard gives in, and he laughs at that, a soft chime of his voice that is pleasant on Trevor's ears. Trevor breathes out a gentle laugh, almost bordering on disbelief, and continues undressing the rabbit.

The night is gentler than most, and more comfortable than any they've had together. Trevor spends the majority of it talking mostly about nothing with Alucard, a strange sort of conviviality between them that is welcomed eagerly. And the camaraderie, while unexpected and alien, is pure and good.