Work Text
I want to live where soul meets body.
How many generations had he lost? How long had he suffered, outliving those he loved, his ephemeral beauty remaining outside, giving only the slightest hint of the sorrow within? But such was the fate of any who chose to open their heart to love. He could remember it- how stricken he had been when he lost the very first. He won in a spar, a fair battle, but… he failed against Death. No, not within those castle walls, that was a battle hard fought, hard won. Time claimed him- claimed him as he had all the rest. But what could have been done to save him? To curse him to the same fate the Dhampir shared? To force him to watch his children suffer the agony of age, the touch of pestilence, the cradle of agony as their lived slipped into nothingness? No, such a thing was too cruel. So he watched. So he waited.
“But I could bring him back for you. A fair trade.”
Ah, the musings of Death. Likely a trap. A trick. A ploy from the menace that respected his father so. The first time he was asked, he scoffed, no answer as he walked away from the shadows. Why would he? To toy with the order of nature was folly. Had Death truly wished for his “Master” to be happy, why had he not saved her? Surely he could have done such a thing? But he chose to enjoy Dracula's anger. His sadness. His madness. The descent of a soul into pure agony. No, such a creature as loyal as he pretended to be was nothing more than an opportunist. But he had to wonder before sleeping- what could he do? How could he help his father? Surely the tormented soul would return, even more heartbroken at the loss of his own Son’s trust? Would he even remember his own son? Rightfully, Alucard did not know. He could not know. “And what would you propose me to trade in exchange?”The question of a lifetime. Of how many lifetimes? Who would pay for such a thing should Belmont return to his side? Who would pay for such a thing should he be an instrument to his Father's return? The world. Nature. None would be pleased if he did such a thing… only his own selfishness. So why did he want to entertain this notion?
“Prove it to me. Prove your loyalty to those you love. Be willing to follow them in their Fate. Then I shall give you the answers you seek.”
To die? To act as sacrifice? Such a terrible thing to suggest. But… it wasn't as though he had never considered such a thing. Was it really any different from putting yourself to sleep? Sleep was but a temporary reprieve in the waking world, a slight waltz with death. Was that death, to be dreaming? Or was it as though you closed your eyes, and nothing? How could he know? Of course… there was a way to know.
Let the sun wrap its arms around me.
It was horrific, it was painful. He stood in the sun, flesh baking. It was painful, so painful, but it didn't kill him. The irritated red flesh wasn't the worst of his self imposed punishment, no. Far worse was what came after his failure. His body was ragged, flesh sloughing off in pale muck, the tops of the flakes and pieces of dead husk like hardened red and blackened rocks. How he could feel his bare muscles beneath, exposed to the air, like countless daggers cutting him should he dare even to breathe. Not just his face- his arms, his chest, every part of him that had bathed in the sun cracked and fell away, showing off underneath his pale porcelain, every bit resembling a human man. The way his muscles tensed, twitched involuntarily. The way he could barely move. It was an awkward suicide attempt- no, a form of self flagellation. It was a failure. Every bit the failure he felt he berated himself. Was this how his mother had felt? Burning? Is that why he chose the dawn to be his unwitting accomplice? Time passed. He slept. His father rose. His father fell. And once again came Death.
“Can you bear such a thing? Can you truly bear to lose another Belmont whence this is over?”
But he must. He had to ignore the voice whispering so awfully in his ears. A bell, yes, it rang in his head like a bell. Rummaging its way around, echoing, distorting, the reverberations more sickly pleasant than the initial sharp ring of those callous words. “It is natural. All men must die.”But he did not die. Even his father could die, but he? What was he if such words were true? A monster? He claimed to feel love, but never did he touch another body. So chaste was he, not one kiss had been planted upon his frigid lips. Could he even love? Was it truly love that he thought he felt? His father had certainly felt love but… could Alucard say the same? He couldn't tell. He had no proof. Love was immaterial and… So he wished to say it was immortal, but he had no proof. No proof at all.
Bathe my skin in water, cool and cleansing.
It was akin to a baptism, his second attempt. Dousing himself in holy water, screaming as he watched the bubbles rise, nails digging into his ribs before he lost his vision. Like bleach upon a fungus, he reacted, he sizzled, he felt the agony. His lungs stopped working quick enough, full of the foreign substance. That's right. That's… what he needed. To simply die. But of course, he did not die. Why would he? Burning failed. Water failed. Burying failed. Evisceration failed. The Earth rejected him in completeness. So he began his cycle anew. Sleep. Wake. Love. Kill. Wait. Grieve. Repeat. Too many centuries passed. But his suffering grew more obvious each generation- so he was approached. At long last, he was approached by a son of Belmont for a true talk. Julius- the last lover. The first lover. And with a prospect of a sacrifice ringing through his mind from Death, as it ever had before...
I will feel, feel what it's like to be new.