Chapter Text
A/N: Hey everyone, I know I have other stories I really need to be working on…Buuut, I got this idea in my head after I began rewatching Castlevania preceding the release of the new series & well…now I have a new momentary hyperfixation.
It really doesn’t help that I can’t find many stories with this concept that I want to read. So I decided to give writing one of my own a swing. Anyways, I don’t own Castlevania or any of its characters.
When word of the Belmont Massacre had spread, there was a myriad of reactions.
For many, the initial reaction was joy. Creatures of the Night saw it as justice. And while some were upset by the fact that they hadn’t been the ones to exact vengeance themselves, their anger was overshadowed by the relief that there would no longer be any hunters coming after their hides. That the very abominations that haunted them had been slaughtered by the humans they swore to protect. It was almost poetic. As for those who believed the Church, their death came with the satisfaction that they had rid the world of Satan’s followers. That they had enacted God’s will and rid the world of monstrous heretics.
However, there was one who was not celebrating the massacre. One who many believed had every right to celebrate the death of his greatest enemies.
Instead, Vlad Dracula Tepes stood in the smoldering wreckage of the once grand estate. Nose wrinkling at the scent of holy blood mixing with the stench of burnt flesh lingering in the air.
For all intents and purposes, he should be celebrating. At long last, the Belmonts, his greatest rivals, the biggest group of stubborn cockroaches that refused to die, had been eradicated from the world. No longer would they threaten his people. No longer would they interfere with any of his plans. No longer would he have to worry about them finding his family and slaughtering them as they had so many of his kin. He should be happy.
And, yet, he couldn’t help but feel his unbeating heart twist with grief.
They were gone.
As much as they annoyed him. As many times as they had drawn his ire by interfering in his kingdom. As many times as he wanted to wipe them out himself—which he’d had plenty of opportunities to do. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy them.
How could he? After all, they were the last thing he had left of him.
They were all that remained of his oldest friend, his once best friend, his brother, Leon.
It had stung when the blonde had refused to join him in immortality. To hear that he had sworn not only himself, but his descendants to slaying him and the rest of his kind.
But, it wasn’t like he could say that he didn’t understand his choice. As crass as the blonde knight had been at times, he had always been stupidly selfless. Never afraid to do what was right, consequences be damned. Always willing to sacrifice himself to help others.
He had known from the beginning of their shared journey that convincing the knight to join him was a long shot. Hoping, that maybe, for once, his friend would act on one moment of selfishness and take his hand.
However, that knowledge didn’t mean that the inevitable rejection hadn’t felt like a stake to the heart.
At least by observing his descendants, the immortal had been able to see some part of his friend live on. Because every now and then he’d see Leon’s characteristic smirk in one of the kids as they learned to spar. Other times he’d spot the same disappointed or perplexed look in one of girls as one of their brothers explained some ridiculous plan of theirs. Sometimes he’d be lucky to observe the same intense look of concentration as one of their parents taught them a new skill.
But, what he saw most often was the one thing that still hurt no matter how many times he saw it. And it was the one thing that consistently kept him from wiping the accursed bloodline out time and time again.
That stupid bleeding heart.
The exact same one that had kept Leon from joining him. One so much like the one his beloved Lisa had beating in her chest. The heart that made them seem so incapable of leaving others in need even at the expense of themselves.
It was one of the few—if only redeeming quality humans had.
Which was why he was here now. Standing in the ruins of the once grand manor. Not celebrating. But mourning.
Mourning how things could’ve been had Leon had just been selfish for once in his life and joined him. Mourning the loss of some of the very few truly selfless humans. Ones who consistently put their lives on the line for those who did not deserve it whatsoever.
Sure, many creatures of the night saw the hunters as demons, as monsters. But Dracula knew better. Belmonts, as ruthless and relentless as they were, did not attack without provocation. Without reason or cause.
Because, at the end of the day, they were still Leon’s brood. And, like him, they hunted those who sought to hurt others.
If his former friend’s lineage had ever suspected something like this could ever happen, there was no doubt in his mind that they had expected it to be from the monsters they hunted. Not from the so-called innocents they had sworn to protect.
Though, it appeared, that despite the surprise of the betrayal, the hunters had not gone quietly. No, more than likely they had done it the way all Belmonts had: fighting, kicking, biting, and making sure as hell to take as many of their attackers as possible with them.
Something of which they appeared to succeed in as he continued to spot the bodies of peasants and priests scattered throughout the property. Their blood long soaked into the stones and mud. All that remained being their maggot-ridden corpses.
So much for doing the Lord’s Holy Work.
Bastards couldn’t even be bothered to bury their loyal dogs.
A fitting end for those ignorant enough to turn on the only thing protecting them from the hordes of night creatures just jumping for the chance to tear through towns without fear of retribution.
Still, what was strange was that he had yet to find the bodies of any Belmonts. He would’ve heard of their survival. Both the Church’s men and his own would have been lamenting had the eradication failed. So, the question remained: what happened to their corpses?
The Church wouldn’t have stayed to bury the bodies in unmarked graves. No. They would’ve made a demonstration of them. The same way for centuries Dracula had been making examples of those who had dared cross his path.
A reminder of the fate that would be shared should they dare follow the same path.
It was a way to instill fear. A way to stay in power. A way to maintain control over those they subjugated.
And to maintain that they wouldn’t have taken the Belmonts without burying their dead. No, people would’ve rioted had the heroes who sacrificed their lives doing the Lord’s work weren’t remembered with honor and given a proper burial.
So, if the Church hadn’t moved them, who did?
Surely it could not have been one of his own subjects? Even with how long it had taken the news to reach his palace, his powers should’ve ensured that he was the first to arrive. And that was assuming that one of them had even had the balls to take a step onto the blessed grounds.
No. He would’ve heard about their bodies being put on display or sold to the highest bidder in the Night Market if one of his subjects had taken them.
Which meant, someone else had had to have move the bodies. But who? All allies of the hunters had been massacred alongside them. And those who believed the Church’s lies wouldn’t have felt an inkling of remorse. At least not enough to come back and bury them without burying their comrades.
So, who else would be left to bury the bodies?
A twig snapped nearby, causing the vampire to freeze. His scarlet gaze scanning the nearby brush that had avoided being engulfed by the flames. He could hear it. A heartbeat. Too loud to be any small animal.
Perhaps it belonged to the would-be body snatcher?
Striding towards it, Vlad couldn’t help but notice that the scent of spilt holy blood was stronger the closer he got. All but confirming his suspicions that this had been where the bodies had been taken.
The heartbeat grew faster as he approached, showing its owner’s fear.
Good. They should be afraid. Even if they had buried the bodies, that didn’t mean it would be enough to escape his wrath. This land had not yet had its last taste of blood. Because if they had known of the massacre, they had done nothing to stop it. And for that crime alone, they were as guilty as the ones of slew them.
Stepping into a small clearing, he expected to find his prey. But, instead, he found several poorly dug, shallow graves. Each one marked with poorly made crosses formed with charred wood and weapons.
Yet, he could still hear the rapid heartbeat of the one who buried them in the clearing with him. But that couldn’t be true, unless…
Teleporting across the clearing as the leaves rustled above, he watched as a scrawny frame landed where he had previously been. A familiar whip in hand and the stench of holy blood seeping into his clothes from barely healed wounds concealed by a too large cloak.
A Belmont.
Of course one of them survived.
Based on the size of the graves and when he last checked in on the family, he would bet that the boy—because that was what he was, a mere child likely no older than his own son—was the youngest of the current brood. Somehow, he had been the one to survive.
If only barely by the looks of him.
There was a nasty gash over his left eye, still caked with dried blood and swollen shut with infection. His other eye—practically the same shade of blue as Leon’s—glazed with a mixture of sickness and stubbornness. Small burns marred his trembling arms, creating a patchwork of irritated reddened skin. Likely infected as well. Not to mention the multitude of cuts littering his frame. Most of which seemed to be coming from his back if the scent and the stains on his clothes were any indication.
So, he had been the one to bury the bodies. Well, then, it appeared that the pup had a stay of execution…for now.
“G-Go away!” the boy hissed, knuckles turning white as he clutched the whip. “Fuck off! Don’t think I won’t kill you!”
At that, Vlad could barely suppress an amused huff. The boy looked like he could barely stay upright, let alone have the strength needed to take him out. “Really?” he mused, taking a step towards the baby Belmont. Barely restraining his smirk as the child took a hesitant step back but still refused to back down. Pale sky blues burning with determination as he stood between him and the graves of his fallen family. “You really think you can defeat me child?”
“I’ll take you out even if I die too!” he snarled challengingly. Swinging his whip in an attempt to intimidate him.
It might’ve succeeded had he not seen generations of his ancestors wield it with far more expertise.
More than likely his father had only just started teaching him how to use it.
A small smile pulled at his lip. That fearlessness definitely came from Leon. “Do you know who I am, boy?” he questioned, stepping closer.
This time, the young Belmont didn’t back away. “I don’t care if you’re a vampire or even a fucking priest. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll fucking kill you!”
For a child that looked to be just about his son’s age, he certainly had a mouth on him. Lisa would throw a fit if their sweet Adrian ever spoke to either of them like this.
Though…perhaps not. He had seen his love interact with children from similar such as this one. Beaten and bruised half to death. Snapping and snarling even at hands that only sought to help and heal. No doubt she would treat this one just the same.
Assuming he could get him to cooperate before he eventually passed out from exhaustion.
Because whether he liked it or not, he refused to let the pup die. If not out of his own personal selfishness to keep what he had left of Leon close, then out of the potential use the boy could be. Keeping the last of the Belmonts under his thumb would not only serve as a reminder of his power, but it would certainly make potential usurpers second guess themselves. It would also keep his opponents from using the young hunter against him in the future.
Of course, that all depended on getting the little one to see he was not his enemy right now.
“Relax little Belmont. I have no intention of harming you this night.”
Unsurprisingly, the boy didn’t believe him. Instead, messily swinging his whip in another vain attempt to drive him off, little body visibly shaking from the strain of keeping himself upright. “Fuck off!”
Demons of Hell, where was Lisa when he needed her? She could probably calm the child down. Because at this rate, he was either going to wait for him to pass out or take him by force. Neither seemed very appealing, but it wasn’t like he was leaving him much choice. The kid was too stubborn for his own good.
Just like Leon.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said, stepping closer. “Tell me, little hunter, how do you think you’re going to survive out there?”
The boy jolted, visibly surprised by the question. “I…I can hunt. I can fight,” he stammered, “I’ll manage.”
In a flash, Vlad closed the distance between them, grasping his wrists before he could try to attack him. “Are you sure about that?”
“V-Vampire.”
The obvious alarm brought a smirk to the vampire king’s face. The pup must’ve truly been out of it had he not realized what he was. Perhaps disoriented from pain and blood loss? Or perhaps this was the runt of the litter? Not yet fully grown into the abilities of his bloodline.
“Yes, Belmont, I am Vlad Dracula Tepes. And I have a vested interest in your survival.”