The sun hung low in the sky, painting a blaze of red and gold across the horizon as it began to slowly dip behind the tops of the trees. Even the clouds seemed almost voluminous with light, Joanna thought to herself as she finished putting the last of the dishes away. It had been a perfect, beautiful day, like so many before it. The months had passed with a drowsy sort of slowness. Fall had turned to winter and winter had turned to spring and summer was at last upon them. Nearly a year had passed since Virgil had defeated Dracula and they’d made their escape from the castle. All their previous plans of leaving to journey across Europe had been put on hold. They had been too injured, to exhausted, too sick with grief. And so they’d gone back to her little cabin in the woods to rest and recover and start over again.
Even after all that time there was a part of her that was still afraid. Every day she woke up, she had to reassure herself that she was still in her own house, in her own bed, safe with Virgil beside her. Nightmares were frequent visitors to both of them, and it was a long time before either of them managed to sleep through the night with any real regularity. Things had been tense for a time. Difficult. Between the struggle of learning how to live with Virgil’s affliction and the loss of their child, Joanna had wondered if they’d ever learn to be truly happy again.
But slowly, things got easier. The nightmares lessened. They leaned on each other in moments of weakness. Life went on. The subject of going on the move was put back on the table, and together they decided that it would be best to embark next spring, once the snows thawed.
Even in all that time there had been no retaliation from Dracula’s minions. Sallos had vanished after they’d made their escape, and he hadn’t even waited for her to awaken. The nightmare ended, and only the scars and the broken pieces the experience had left on their lives remained, to slowly be put back together. Things were nearly normal, until close to a week ago…
The feeling of a pair of arms slipping around her waist drew her from her reverie. “And what has you looking so pensive?” Virgil whispered, his lips brushing against her ear and sending a shiver up her spine.
“Virgil…” she turned in his grasp, moving to face him. The sight of him with brows lofted in a look of gentle curiosity as he regarded her drew a smile from her lips. The burns on his face had responded well to the salves she’d made for him, and looked nearly whole save for a small patch near his jaw that remained stubbornly taut and pink. She’d had no way to heal his left eye of course, but he’d only laughed and told her that it meant he just had to look at her twice as long.
The flesh of his chest and belly hadn’t fared as well, she thought absently to herself as she glanced down at her husband, who’d stripped to the waist. Those burns had been far worse, and despite her best efforts the skin there was, and always would be, scarred and puckered.
“You see something you like?” he asked playfully, touching her chin and drawing her glance back upward to his face.
“You.” The word popped out of her lips reflexively, making him smile. It had been a long time before he’d been willing to believe that she still found him attractive, that she still wanted him.
Drawing her close, he kissed her as gently as a feather-stroke. When he pulled back to study her, his fingers brushed through her thick, dark hair. “Come on,” he said, drawing her across the room toward the spare room. His voice had never quite lost the rasping quality that it had gained in the castle. She liked that too. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
How could she possibly put it to words? That had been her dilemma for days.
Virgil just smiled as he took a seat in the single, study chair in the center of the room, sprawling out with his legs splayed, elbows resting idly on the chair’s arms. “Glaring at the floor isn’t going to help,” he teased, patting his lap with one hand. “Come here.”
“Virgil, I’m…” she began as she sat, taking comfort in the protective circle of his arms as they draped around her. “I’m late.”
“Late?” he asked, twisting around to glance out the window. “No, we’ve got plenty of time.”
“Not that kind of late. I’m… Virgil, I might be…” When she’d missed her cycle the past week, her blood had nearly turned to ice in her veins. All the fears from the castle had come back. What if something happened again? What if some other threat emerged—a vengeful servant or another vampire?
What if she lost this child, too?
Slow realization came over him, and his brows quirked in a look of furtive hope. “Really?” he asked.
“I don’t know for sure,” she said quickly, even though somewhere deep down within her she knew. She was certain. “I might just be late and it could be nothing—“
He whooped aloud, practically bouncing to his feet and scooping her up with his hands at her waist. Swinging her around the room and making her squeal in surprise and protest, he silenced her by planting an exuberant kiss on her lips. “Joanna, that’s wonderful! I—what’s wrong?” he asked, stilling as he realized his joy didn’t seem to be particularly infectious.
The question made her heart twist painfully in her chest. What was wrong? She should have been happy, filled with bliss at the idea of getting a second chance to raise a family with Virgil. And she also knew that the Belmont line had to continue. “It’s just…” Joanna swallowed hard as she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. “I’m just really scared. What if something happens? I can’t—I can’t lose another one. I just can’t…”
His smile faded and he sat back down, pulling her to himself, crushing her against him. “Joanna… Oh, God, I’m—I’m sorry,” he whispered. Callused thumbs brushed the tears away from her eyes before they could spill down her cheeks. “Joanna, I know I failed you before, and I… nothing I say will change that. But please, please believe me when I say that I will never, ever let anything like that happen again. Never. Dracula is dead, and if any of his servants get it in their heads that they want revenge I will tear them apart.” His voice rose to a low growl.
“Virgil…”
“You’re mine,” he said fiercely, staring into her eyes. He got like this when the moon was turning. Possessive, territorial. It didn’t bother her. He never directed his emotions toward her in any kind of negative fashion. He just got worked up easily, and when he did took time to calm him down. "And I will protect you until my dying breath."
“I’m yours,” she agreed with a smile, pressing her forehead to his own, “and I know you’ll protect us.” Us. Her and the baby, both. And suddenly she wasn’t so afraid.
He hummed contently at that, a low sound that sent warmth shooting through her. “Mm. Come on,” he said, giving her a playful swat on the thigh and nudging her to her feet. “I’m ready.”
“We need to figure out what we’re going to do when we start traveling.” she said, circling behind the chair and tugging at the back for a moment, marking sure it was sturdy. The legs were bolted to the floor, and it didn’t have any give to it.
“There’ll be trees. Those would work,” Virgil said with a relaxed shrug, turning his head to watch her as she moved to stand beside him. When she guided his arm along the arm of the chair and began tightening the thick leather strap around his wrist, he drew in a hissing breath. He was wearing a look she couldn’t interpret. She paused, earning a piercing stare that she practically felt burning into her. “Tighter.” He whispered, voice husky. “I could have gotten free last time.”
Joanna nodded, tightening the strap and buckling it securely in place. Kneeling, she began working at the strap to bind his ankle to the chair’s sturdy leg. “I don’t know about the tree idea. It would work, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable for you, being chained up all night.”
“I’d be fine,” he murmured, his gaze following her as she shifted to his other leg. His free hand reached down to cup at her cheek.
“Have you given any thought to the idea I had?” she asked, stopping after buckling his leg in place to rest her chin on his knee, meeting his stare.
“What, about seeing if I could… control myself?” he asked quietly, warily.
She nodded. “Virgil, it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
“Not if I hurt you. Or worse.”
She sighed at that, a frown tugging at her lips. “But what if I tried it tonight? Kept you bound but checked on you during the night? I’ll—just stay right in the doorway, no closer. If you start trying to get loose, I’ll leave right away and lock the door, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“You’re impossible,” He grumbled, but his free hand stroked tenderly at her hair. “Very well. But if I so much as look at you funny, I want you to get out, right? If anything happened to you, I couldn’t forgive myself.”
“Deal,” she said quickly, before he could change his mind.
His fingers withdrew from her hair to settle back on the arm of the chair. “Come on,” he said. “The sun’s going down.”
Joanna nodded and quickly strapped his other leg into place, then rose to secure his arm. “Can I get you anything else?”
Virgil tested the straps, then nodded toward the one on his wrist. “This one’s still loose.”
“Virgil, you’re going to grow when you change. I don’t want them to hurt you.”
He grumbled. “And I don’t want to hurt you. Make it tighter.”
Joanna obediently tightened it, though not by much.
The look he gave her sent heat through her. “Tighter.” He whispered.
“God, you're enjoying this, aren't you? Knave.”
“And you love a knave.”
“With all my heart. Good night, Virgil.” She murmured, leaning down to press her lips to his own in a gentle kiss.
His lips were tender, his smile as sly as it had ever been. “See you in the morning.”
The thing in her arms was so small, she could hardly think of it as a child. But it slept, it's tiny hands curled to her, breathing shallow, but even. It's mouth was open, and she could see the tiny hints of fangs just barely poking through pink gums. They had no idea what to expect, even her immortal husband had never seen a child like this, not quite human, not quite a vampire, or whatever monster her husband was. A child of both worlds. It should not have lived. It should have withered away in the womb, and she had been prepared for that.
But now, she held the sleeping infant and she worried for the future. She worried that it would not pass it's first week, it's first month, year. She had to stop herself, constantly, from thinking of it as a baby, as her baby boy. They'd decided not to name it, just yet. Naming it would mean getting attached.
Still, she spoke to it, hoping some of her words would reach the baby in it's slumber.
"I'll be there for you, little one." She promised. "If your life is another day, or the immortality of your father I will always be there." Brushed one hand over the wisps of hair, almost white, on it's head. A sound escaped the tiny thing, and she couldn't help but smile. The tiny mouth found her fingertip and sucked at it like it was her breast. She helped move the tiny thing, let it nurse. "I promise you will not ever have to be alone." She murmured, stroking over it's hair, it's small back. "Your father and I love you, and we want you with us, even if only for a short while. I promise, I will stay by your side. Forever."
"You are already attached, Lisa, love. That's dangerous." Her husband kissed her cheek.
"He was in my belly for the better part of a year. It's hard not to get attached at that point."
They waited a year to name him. Adrian, they settled on, after long discussions about Leon, after someone her husband had a hard time talking about, or Nicholas, after her father. Adrian was a name with no attachments, no expectations.
But he was an active infant, at a year already making more noise than some of the banshees that lingered in the castle gardens, and he tried again and again to take tiny steps, he laughed when he fell.
One night, she watched him on his father's knee, his tiny hands wrapped around a small stuffed rabbit she had made him.
"I promise you, my Adrian," His father told him, though the child could not understand the gravity of his words. "I will make a better future for you."
"We will." She curled up against his side, touched the infant's wild hair. "I will be there to help you make this better future."
Castlevania will always and forever be special to me and even though the future of series as we knew it looks dark the spirit of Castlevania will continue. Happy 30th Castlevania and good luck IGA.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I totally forgot about the whole Castlevania week until the last day! With less than two Hours to go (my time) I scrambled to write something.
This fanfic actually takes place In Castlevania: The Adventure, which funnily enough is one of the first games chronologically. There isn’t really a Castlevania: The adventure Category on AO3 yet (I requested it)...but there is the fanfic.
And here’s an excerpt to arouse curiosity
(...)“Christopher thought about that while he stood in front of the last doors. He couldn’t dare to let his guard down or sit down on the floor, or even crouch. No, he had to stand there. With a long sigh he kept moving forwards. He would have liked a fire - Even now as he jumped and climbed his way through the Dark vampire’s castle, he felt cold. - It was a shame really, but he had dared not light a fire.”(...)
Final day of the Castlevania week! I really hope you’ve enjoyed my ficlets.
Thanks for reading, beautiful people!
___________
Stone crashed around him, threatening to crush him beneath its weight. He was no longer worried about that.
He knew he was going to die before that happened. Die, all alone.
He always knew it would all end like that. No one to hold his hand. No one to tell him how much he would be missed.
His eyes stared into nothingness. Everything was already turning black.
Something caught his attention. Long golden hair and fair skin.
No. Had he stayed?
“A...d...”
He couldn’t articulate anything else. His human body, devoid of the supernatural force that had animated it for a thousand years, couldn’t fight against the wounds inflicted by the Belmont whip, the Belnades magic, and the Farenheights sword. They had left him to die alone, human and scared, as the castle was pushed further into the eclipse.
“Don’t worry. It will be over soon”.
The female voice took him by surprise. He tried to focus his eyes, only to distinguish a blurry face and an even blurrier pair of grey eyes.
Yet, he knew her perfume. Roses and lilies of the valley.
“You need to let go. How else will we meet again, my love?”
“Eli...sa...betha,” he finally said.
“You have fought bravely. Rest now. I promise we will meet again, somewhere, sometime.”
Let go.
He was bad at letting go.
And yet, when he closed his eyes, he felt no more need to hold onto himself anymore. He wanted to dissolve and float in nothingness, with no awareness or memories of himself.
Somewhere. Sometime.
Will the future let them meet again?
The image of a temple flashed in his mind before everything ceased to exist.
Soft, heavy eyes watched men haul logs into a pile. The last rays of sunlight burned them long before the men could set the pyre alight. They moved quickly, fearfully. The night belonged to her beloved, his creatures, their powers. If they caught a single whiff of her funeral pyre, the villagers would burn in a hell hotter than the fire they were building for her.
She wanted to feel something. Fear. Anger. Sorrow. They had left her, kept her in a body numb to the fall wind blowing into her cell. This was her fate. She could not fight it. Not with her family's sword, and not with her bare hands. All she could hope for was that numbness remaining until her last breath.
Another breeze brushed past her face.
So came a tiny, trembling creature.
The condemned woman opened her hands. Into her palms flew the most fragile bat she had ever held. It was nothing like her loved one's pets. Its wings were soft, smoother than polished leather. Tiny hooks cradled her hands. They squeezed, then fell into mist. She sat up, startled.
Her heart sank as her child fell out of his shed skin.
"Adrian?" she reached out, stroking the boy's face. There was no doubt to who he was. His skin was cool, smooth, tender. His hair was a wild, windswept mess. Worst of all were his eyes. They caught the sunlight, glowing gold and red, bloodshot and stained from tears threatening to fall from him once again.
He leapt into her lap. "Mother!"
She scooped him up, smothered him against her chest. This was the first and last person she ever wanted to see. Her joy, her melancholy child. How long had it been since she had last cradled him? He felt so tall, heavier than she remembered. How could he have grown so much, and she had never noticed?
"You finally learned how to turn into a bat," she laughed into the part in his hair.
Adrian nodded. "It took me a long time."
It was never easy for her child to do magic. There was nothing he couldn't learn to do. It was just his stamina. She wondered if her blood watered his down. Dracula was so patient with him, though. He had faith that Adrian could do anything. So did she.
He squirmed upright, beading eyes catching hers again. "We've got to get you out of here." With one leap, he hopped out of her lap. "I'll go find the keys."
Lisa's heart jolted. She grabbed her son. "No, Adrian!"
"They won't see me," he promised. "We've got to hurry. If you don't escape, you'll die!"
Clever boy. Foolish boy. "And what if I do?"
Adrian stared at her, dumbfounded. That was not a question he'd considered before. He shook his head, flustered. "I'll take you back to the castle."
"We'll be chased," she pointed out.
"We can outrun them!" Adrian tugged on her hands. "Once we get back to the castle, Father will protect you!"
"But, hunters will come for me. What will I do if they hurt your father or you, trying to get to me?" Dread clung to Lisa's thin frame. "I won't ever be able to leave the castle again, Adrian. And, when they find out where I am, the castle will surely be attacked. So many will perish."
Her son shook his head. He was dumbfounded, agitated. "F-Father always keeps us safe. You'll be safe. Won't you?"
She couldn't answer him. They were standing in the proof of Dracula's fallibility. Here she was, locked away in the sun, fire about to rain down upon her, and Dracula could do nothing to prevent it. Adrian knew this. He fought where his father couldn't. But, he was delicate, small, just one against a thousand. If his heart stopped beating, so would hers.
His pulse raced, ragged in her palms. "Mother, please. I can't let them kill you."
Lisa bowed her head. "It's too late, Adrian."
"It's not! It's not!" Her child roared, his cries as fearsome as a wolf's howl. She shivered as she trembled, his nails clenched onto her forearms. "I…I didn't come all this way to…no! Not again!"
Her eyes widened. "Again?"
Adrian's head shot up. Wild fringe fell from his face. Desperation paced in him like a caged lion. Fear set it free. He couldn't keep eye-contact with her and hold his tears back. They burned like the sun, shimmering down his cheeks as his strength finally shattered.
He fell onto his knees. "I've done something terrible, Mother."
She pulled him closer. "Tell me."
"I learned something forbidden. Something I shouldn't have." Adrian rested his arms against her legs. He laid his head against her knees, eyes turned away in shame. "But, it was the only way…"
Lisa's eyebrows pinched down. "What did you learn, Adrian?"
His answer was low, lifeless. "How to travel through time."
Impossible. It had to be impossible. But, his father did the impossible all the time. He lived three times longer than a man ever could. He changed his face like the seasons changed clouds and leaves. They had an impossible child, curious and precocious and so very clever. Impossibly, he was taller. Impossibly, he was frazzled, not as clean as she had left him. Impossibly, he was older.
He told her an impossible truth, and she believed him.
"You traveled through time just to find me?" she asked.
"I got so lost. There were monsters everywhere. In the past. The present. The future." Her child lifted his head, a little life coming back to him. "But, I made it here, Mother! I made it to you!"
The joy in his face brought sorrow to her own. Her little Adrian, so stubborn, so smart. He saw his actions as a remedy first, a problem second. So unlike she did. There had to be a reason her boy cried so hard, begged and pleaded and pulled on her dress. He had seen her future, and it had hurt him.
She could hardly say what she knew. "So, you've already…"
"Yes, Mother," Adrian nodded. "I've seen you die."
Lisa pulled her son off the floor. He curled up, wept into her hair. She smoothed his, tried to ignore the tears finally breaking through her placid mask. It was easy to accept death in the black void inside of herself. To see her child beaten and broken was unbearable.
She laid her cheek against his forehead. "This day was always going to come, Adrian. I was meant to die before you."
"But like this?" he asked. "It doesn't have to be like this!"
"And if it's not?" Lisa tipped his head back. "What will happen to you? Will I have two Adrians, or will you cease to exist?"
Adrian stared at her. "I…I don't know."
Such honesty didn't come easy to him. He was always striving to please her, to know the answer to every question she asked. But, he was still a child. He only thought of what he needed to do, not the repercussions from it. If his mother needed to be saved, he would save her—even if he had to shatter the world to do it.
It was endearing and frightening.
Lisa cupped his head, running her thumbs against his sharp ears. "You know why this magic is forbidden, don't you?"
Adrian scrambled to find an answer to please her. "Because it changes what will happen."
She shook her head. "Because it is selfish."
"Not to save lives!" Adrian argued. "Not to save you!"
"Think, my sweet boy. Think." Lisa stroked her son's temples. They ran fever hot, cooled only by her touch. "Everyone has chosen this path. I came here to heal others. The villagers want to protect their homes. They fear your father, my love. They fear you. So, they made a poor choice. And they…" She dropped her eyes, struggling to face the horrifying truth in Adrian's eyes. "You know what they will choose next. Would you take away our freedom of choice just to save me?"
He didn't think about what she was saying. "Of course."
She froze her son's temper with her cold truth. "Would you be that cruel?"
Adrian went silent. He stared at her, as hurt as if she had slapped him. She sighed, then stroked his back. He didn't know what he was saying. He was just a scared child about to face the worst day of his life all over again. Of course, he was desperate. Heedless of the cost they would all pay.
Wisdom dawned on him with the setting sun. He bowed his head, his sobs slowing. "If…If I went further back…"
"I will always want to save others, Adrian. Just like you. And I will always love your father, no matter what others think of him." She pulled him closer to her heart. "So, this end will always come."
Finality broke Adrian's spirit. His throat cracked with his cries. Lisa held him tighter than she had ever before. He clung back, his grasp almost too strong to bear. She withstood it. If this was the last hug she would ever get from him, she would make sure it was the strongest one she ever gave.
"I hate them," Adrian whispered.
Lisa leaned down. "The villagers?"
Her child nodded. "I hate them all."
"Don't," she ordered. "They don't know what they're doing."
"Of course they do!" Adrian argued. "It's wrong! They've got no right to hurt you!"
"They don't think that." Lisa sighed, letting her frustration roll out in a new wave of truth. "They think I'm a witch. They are taught that witches are evil and supposed to die. To them, what they are doing is good. They think they are protecting their loved ones, just as you are trying to protect me."
Adrian lifted his head. "If they learned otherwise…" His eyes lit up. "That's it! I'll go back and—"
"How far back would you go?" his mother asked. "The village's foundation? The creation of Christianity? The moment Cain killed Abel?" She shook her head, eyelids sinking. "You would undo the world to stop my death, Adrian. You would destroy lives before they begin. You would kill yourself. Don't you understand how horrible that is?"
He stared at her, dumbfounded and hurt. "What am I supposed to do, then?"
Lisa smiled as she rubbed her son's shoulders. "Forgive them. Love them."
Adrian drooped in her arms. "You ask me to do something impossible."
"Just as impossible as traveling through time," she grinned.
Pointed ears twitched beneath long hair. Adrian sniffled, then wiped his eyes clean on his shirt. Lisa smiled, then helped dab away the last of her son's tears. She felt his skin cool, his pulse settle. Now, with his heart easing, he could hear her over the drumming of his own terror.
"Listen, Adrian," she cooed. "I am a human, just like the villagers. I have my own faults and misunderstandings."
"But, you're so kind," Adrian whispered. "You're nothing like them."
"Deep inside every human, there is potential for kindness. But, they make mistakes. They get hurt, and they get scared. They don't think about what to do. Just how to get out of trouble. Then, they make more mistakes." Her gentle fingers lifted her boy's soft face. "The cycle will never break unless they are healed. Fed. Cleaned and given homes. Then, they will have time to think. With your grace at their side, they will learn kindness—just as you want them to."
Pensive eyes flickered. "I see."
Lisa smiled again. "My boy, you are so intelligent. Clever enough to reverse the Earth itself." She stroked his hair once more, smoothing past his sharp ears. "But, you are kind, too. I want you to practice that kindness, even when it hurts."
"Why?" he asked.
Her sad grin revealed her flaws. "Because I'm selfish, too."
Adrian thought for a moment. He looked down, then back to her. "I don't understand, Mother."
Maybe he didn't need to know how she envied his strength, how she loved seeing herself within him. All that she knew was they were running out of time. There was so much she wanted to teach him. The setting sun shut her down. She clung to her child one more time, trying desperately not to cry. She would have to teach her son her final lesson quickly. No one else could have him but her—especially not the wolves salivating for her roasted flesh.
"I am always in you, Adrian. You are half of me, and all of me. My blood is in your veins, and my heart in your chest." Her smile radiated a warmth that the sun couldn't steal away. "As long as you live, I will live through you."
Adrian reached for her neck. She drew him close, let him nuzzle her. "I won't let you down again, Mother. I promise. I'll do what you want me to do."
"Good boy." She said what she always had to say. "I love you, Adrian."
"I love you, too," he echoed.
Lisa hugged him again, grateful for every last one. "I will always love you."
He nodded. "So will I."
A thwack outside startled them. Lisa peered beyond her bars. The construction of her funeral pyre was done. It wouldn't be long before men would break into her cell and seal her fate. She glanced down at her son. She had to get him out of here. The last thing she would ever let anyone do was harm him.
"You've got to go," she urged.
Adrian nodded. "I'll…I'll be there, at the end."
"I know." She kissed his forehead. "Just be careful, my son."
He looked to the dying light. Love brought him back to her one more time. "Can I do anything else for you?"
Outside of swimming against the stream of time and keeping her company at her last moments? What couldn't he do? Still, he was looking for any last edict—one more thing he could do to make her happy. She saw his form glowing in the sunlight and saw what only the moon could touch. Her beautiful, lovely child was so quick to change. His father, fixed and frozen by denying the inevitable.
"Tell your father what I have told you," Lisa said. "Tell him I will always love you both."
Adrian bowed his head. "I will."
She pushed him onto his legs. He stood, though as frail as a newborn deer. A timid creep had him hanging onto the cell's bar. One last longing gaze fixed on her, as if he was memorizing every last pore in her skin. She gave him a gentle smile. If this was the last he would ever see of her, she would make it a pleasant memory.
"It's alright, Adrian," she assured him.
Her son shook his head. "It's…it's not."
"No. I know." She stood up, then joined him at the window. Her fingers on his back were gentle, forceful. "Live long, Adrian. Love. Do more than I ever could."
It was an easy promise for him to make. "I will."
"Now…" Lisa pulled her son off the ground. "Fly!"
Smoke lifted from her palms. Her child flittered away, back to the future he had abandoned, his tears glittering like stars in the oncoming night. She watched him dance through the sky. How graceful he was, even in such a strange body! She could watch him fly forever. He was meant for the night sky, just as he was meant for the bright earth—at home everywhere he went.
