He entered his chambers and threw himself into his throne. Closing his eyes he willed down the memories that threatened to drown him. He leaned over and covered his face with his hand. He had no real word for it but it was a longing that was vaguely familiar.

He felt her before he heard her footsteps on the stone floors. She opened the gothic reinforced wooden door, allowing a lance of light to penetrate the darkness of his domain. Slowly she stepped in and closed the door, returning the dungeon to pitch-black. Her scent permeated the room and he breathed it in deeply.

She couldn't see, but took a hesitant step forward all the same. "Most humans would consider your actions suicide," he intoned. She used the opportunity to follow the sound of his voice and stopped when she sensed she was close . "If you were going to kill me you would have already," she stated. He let out a growl of resignation, showing he would tolerate her presence.

She put out a hand trying to find him, but found she had misjudged the distance. She slowly crouched to keep from tripping and her hand landed on his knee. He looked down at her and his face softened. When she looked up and met his sanguine gaze he had expected her to recoil in fear, but she stared back resolutely. He listened , but her heart rate stayed slow and rhythmic.

Using the hand on his knee as a guide she drew closer till she was kneeling between his legs. He was aware of the erotic possibilities of the pose, but he didn't have the will for it tonight and the thought was only fleeting. Then tentatively she reached up and brushed the hair out of his face. He didn't need the air, but it was a habit, he inhaled sharply in surprise, and she drew back.

He was used to being touched, but not like that. When people touched him it was for their own purposes, whether it was to inflict pain for disobeying a command, in fear begging him to show mercy, or in lust expecting him to provide satisfaction.. Her touch was gentle and for his pleasure only, there was nothing for her to gain.

Hesitantly she reached up again and cradled his face in her right hand. He shivered in contentment. Her hand was soft and warm against his frigid flesh. He leaned his head into her palm and brought his gloved hand up to hold hers in place. " How long since you've been touched like this Alucard ?" He turned his face so his mouth was pressed to her palm and inhaled her perfume and the scent of her life, "More than four hundred years…" he responded wearily.

" They said you were my equal, my bane," he mused " This is not something I would do." She actually smiled at that . "I'm not you, Alucard. I'm human, and I'm showing you something so rare only humans that are truly powerful can do it. Mercy and Compassion." At that her kissed her palm and she felt his bloody tears on her fingers.

He had never known those powers, not now and not as a human. He let her draw closer and comfort him, saving him from himself. "Shhhhh" she breathed soothingly, placing her free hand on the other side of his face. He closed his eyes and drank in the sensation of just being with another, no demands being made on him.

He wanted to be engulfed in her, to feel her all around him. He reached down a d put a large hand around her waist, and pulled her closer. She obeyed his silent command and sat on one of his long theighs leaning against him so her side was pressed against his chest. Slowly she drew back and looked into his eyes again.

Gently she Leaned forward, still holding his face, and kissed his forehead with lips soft as angel wings. He closed his eyes top memorize the sensation of her mouth on his skin. Placidly she moved down and brushed her lips against each eyelid, getting his bloody tears on her lips.

Cautiously she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and intimately tasted him. He sighed, it was so long since he had been so close with another creature. These gentle caresses were more intimate than anything he had experienced with the tens of thousands of women he had bedded.

He reached out, trying to mimick the gentleness of her movements and ran his fingers through her hair, finally clasping the back of her head. Bringing her closer he stopped when their noses touched and savored her proximity. He thought about how ruthless she was on the battlefield. She would stand straight with confidence of her strength almost arrogance she had survived, clothes smeared with blood a testament to her mastery over her enemies, her face set in a stony expression of defiance. The fact that this was the same woman highlighted each sensation.

Leaning forward he closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth to hers in a chaste kiss. He felt her lips give against his and for that instant they shared the same soul. He began where she ended. Her heart beat, but it pumped blood through his veins. He exhaled what she inhaled.

He let her go. She broke the kiss, but stayed close allowing him to feel her sweet breath on his face. She began to hum a familiar tune, it was an old Romanian lullaby that Elizabetha had sung to his first son. When her humming became slow and lethargic he shifted her so her head rested in the crook of his shoulder and her body sprawled in his lap. Soon the music stopped altogether to be replaced by the soft rythem of her breathing and the cadence of her heart against his chest.

There in the dark, clutching her against his chest, the No-Life King said a prayer to the God he had forsaken five hundred years ago. He gave praise for the angel, the woman, the monster in his arms. Then he gave himself over to the velvety, black , embrace of a dreamless sleep.