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[personal profile] proofofstrength

She opens her eyes. Lavishly intricate tapestries, carved stone and wrought metals, the sparkle of jewels glinting in the light of thousands of wax candles. The room is opulence itself, easily outshining the meagre church of the village; a reflection of its owner's arrogant quest to be greater than the Christ.

Dracula's throne room.

But the Prince of Darkness is nowhere to be found.

She turns warily, straining her senses for any sign of the vampire or his minions, whip at the ready.


Her head whips around, and a warm fog rises in her at the familiar silhouette: clad in garments of nobility, like his father, but with the stature- and the gentle kindness- of a human. Dropping all defenses, she dashes to him.

"Alucard! You... I thought..."

His arms enfold her, gentle and caring. "You've made me believe your strength."

He shudders, drawing back, and the girl realises there's a warm, sticky feeling against her. With the slow horror of someone realising there's something wriggling in the apple bite in his mouth, she looks down. The stain is a rich, dark brown against the green of her armor. Drops of red litter the ground between them.

He smiles tenderly, reaching a shaking hand to her. She stretches her own hand toward him, over the invisible chasm that's stretched between them.


Her fingers stop, held by an invisible force.

No, other fingers.

Glass. A mirror.

She wheels around. The throne room is still there. The blood is still there. Alucard is gone.

She turns back.

Instead of a human girl, a tall, regal man in his fifties meets her gaze.

Dracula. She shifts her stance, ready to fight.

He shifts.

She reaches for her whip.

What meets her hand is the soft, thick folds of a cape.

She looks down, then up again in horror at her reflection.


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Sonia Belmont

February 2008

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