Chapter Text
It was hard to keep a neutral expression when Trevor entered the sitting room.
The letter was practically scrunched in his grip. He’d had a moment of despair after reading it, wanting to throw it off the astronomy tower just as he did Ann’s. He forced himself out of the emotion, remembering it was focus he needed now. It was focus that would save Zach.
It’s cold in the room. Henry stared at him, apprehension and tension tied into his very being as if he were still awaiting judgment. It was hard to look at him and not imagine how he felt. To see the similarities of their features, the clear blue of their father’s eyes.
Henry looked a lot like their father.
Everyone always said Trevor resembled their mother more. It had always been a comment on the slant of his nose or the line of his brows. He’d seen it himself when he was younger and clean-faced.
And Trevor… he never reacted when someone made the comparison. Not because he cared about resembling a woman. No, Trevor never cared about that. He cared… he cared when he looked at his mother, at her distance and dim expression. He cared when he stood in front of a mirror, scrutinising his reflection, fingers ghosting his nose and brows, and wondering.
Regardless, it was hard when Henry wore that expression.
It was harder still when Adrian took two steps towards him and stopped, hands clenched at his sides and both very much aware of his mother’s cool stare and Ann’s anxious one.
The energy of the castle had shifted. Different from how it had been hours before, different from how it had been when first entered it for his wedding. He wondered how the magic of the castle worked, if its threads touched its inhabitants and fed off their emotions for structure and feeling. It’s… comforting, in a way, to think that. For something to be on your side than nothing.
He wondered how his family sensed it now. He wondered if he was insane for ever feeling comfortable in the large, mythical structure. There was a small, hopeful part of him that his family would enjoy the castle as he did.
They wouldn’t, he thought, not when Dracula loomed within the bright sitting room, a dark hole that guarded the sun, Lisa, as she sat on an armchair in front of him.
Sypha sat on the armchair beside her while his family was settled directly across on a long emerald chaise. Adrian stood at the front of the room, partially hiding the painting of a sailing boat.
When Trevor let himself in, he paused at Dracula’s side, handing over the letter without bothering to straighten the creased paper, and moved to stand next to Adrian but then—
“Take a seat, Trevor.” His mother’s voice cut in, gentle but firm, patting the cushion beside her.
Adrian’s face was blank, the same mask he’d worn the first time Trevor had ever come here, and he hated it. The only thing that made him pause was how he twisted his ring around his finger, the pearl gleaming and changing hues, and by then, Adrian had spoken.
“This is Isaac. Our friend and a forgemaster.”
Isaac stepped into the room with an armful of scrolls, his blank expression soft enough not to unsettle anyone. “Apologies for my tardiness.” He bowed his head swiftly and Trevor watched as if in a daze as he moved past him and stood next to Adrian.
Frowning, he shuffled across the room to sit beside his mother. He couldn’t meet her stare but as he sat the familiar scent of dried flowers touched his nose, and he stilled, for a single second, before instinctively leaning into his mother’s side.
Immediately, she shifted, her arm moving easily around him, fingers threading through his hair. There was a lump in his throat when she pressed her lips to his temple.
They were both shaking.
“One week.” Dracula’s voice echoed even in the full room. Trevor glanced up, catching Adrian who was staring at him and his mother before he looked away.
“When the moon is at its fullest…” Something shifted in his expression. “That is when the blood moon occurs.”
He froze just as Henry scoffed from his seat. “So this is a trap.”
“That was already obvious,” Isaac said. “But a blood moon… There are many possibilities of what the Guard could hope to achieve with it.”
“It will amplify their strength.” Sypha mused. “It’s great luck for them that Zach’s disappearance and the moon’s change aligned.”
Trevor and Dracula’s gazes met silently.
“… We have a theory on that.” Trevor cleared his throat. “But we’re still waiting on more information.”
Dracula handed the letter to Lisa, whose expression darkened as she finished reading. She passed it to Sypha, who in turn gave it to Isaac and Adrian. “They want Adrian too?” There was a stiffness in her voice, an anxiety that Trevor rarely saw her let out. It’s a terrible thing, he thought, to read the death sentence for an innocent child unless your own son gives himself up for it instead.
Adrian’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the parchment but he showed no other reaction.
Dracula’s tone was guarded. “Two birds with one stone.”
“So what’s the plan?” Ann blurted, leaning forward in her seat, leg bouncing.
“We will need more information before we start making preparations,” Isaac answered. “They’re too vague,” he murmured, looking over the letter. “We have no idea if the Guard will be there—”
“It’s a high chance they would be.” His mother said. “The Church would never allow enemies to get so close to their gates without protection.”
Isaac acquiesced with a nod. “That so, we still do not know their numbers.” His brow furrowed. “We do not know enough about them, overall. Where they get their Guards, where they train… but even so. We cannot begin preparations with so little information.”
Trevor saw how Isaac hesitated, eyes flickering over the letter and sneaking a glance at Dracula. “What else is it?” He demanded.
A pause. “The Church is not known to keep its word. Zacharias’ condition…” Henry began to pace now. “It could be anything.”
Trevor swallowed. His throat felt like sandpaper. When he blinked, he could see Zach’s bright smile behind his eyelids.
“We cannot linger on it,” his mother said quietly. “We cannot allow it to distract us.”
Isaac nodded, short and sharp.
“A week isn’t enough time to get all the information we need.” Trevor tugged at his hair. “They’re boxing us in.”
Ann’s voice was loud. “Then why don’t we call everyone?”
“Everyone?”
“Well,” she looked around, uneasy. “That’s the point of the pact, right? To be united? If the people who cemented it are being targeted, shouldn’t that mean every other entity should join us to defeat the Church?”
He smiled grimly, meeting Dracula’s eyes. “It should. How about it? Wanna see if this shit will actually work when it matters?”
Expression hardened, his gaze turned to everyone in the room, lingering on his wife and son. Trevor wished he knew what he thought, but whatever it was, he made up his mind quickly. “I will make the necessary arrangements. Be aware,” he looked over the rest of them, “the castle will be uncomfortably full until the week passes. Vampires, Speakers, Witches, Forgemasters.”
“Good thing there’s a pact.” He leaned back against the chaise. “Stop all the infighting and whatnot.”
Dracula didn’t grace him with a reply. “Isaac, Belmont, Speaker, my Lady,” he directed towards his mother, and Trevor had to stop his jaw from dropping because when did Dracula ever treat his family with respect? “To my study. We will have to locate some of our allies. Last I spoke to the Matron Witch, she was in Bosnia.”
As Henry muttered his agreement and strode to meet Dracula at the doors, his mother stilled beside him.
“What is it?” He whispered.
A pause. “...I would rather stay with you,” she admitted softly. “I have not seen you and—” her head turned to Adrian’s position, still standing in front of the painting, and Trevor stiffened.
He didn’t know if he could take his mother's questions about them now.
His tongue felt heavy as he spoke. “Mother, I’ve missed you,” and he wants to tell her how lonely he felt after their departure, about his nightmares and Adrian’s help in coming to terms with his grief.
The other four stood at the door, waiting, and Trevor just wished that the world would stop, that time would halt, so he could just explain.
There’s a horrible pain where the thought of Zach is, and Trevor doesn’t know if he wishes to hide it or keep it, because he knows now, after the death of his father, that memory is all he can hold onto.
But does it have to hurt so much?
Trevor couldn't speak to his mother now. Not about Zach or Adrian. He wanted to sink down onto the floor, let the castle envelope him and beg it to hide him because he was so—
Trevor was so tired.
“Please go.” His voice doesn't even count as a whisper. It’s something quieter. “I’ll talk to you later.”
He can’t bring himself to glance at her expression. He knew enough from her sharp inhale and the way she stiffened. When she rose from the chaise, her fading steps echoed like it was the only thing in the world.
There’s more voices in the room, brief discussion he can’t bring himself to hear. Trevor focused on the carpet beneath his boots. In a moment of despair, it registered that it's green. Zach’s favourite colour.
The memory of his laughter rang into his mind, sharp and clear when Trevor threw him into the air, catching him again and again, for his own need more than his.
He had been so light. And of course, he must have grown in the time he had been away. But–but he was still a child.
A child.
Trevor could feel himself shaking, his ears ringing, but he couldn’t push himself out of his thoughts.
Zach was a child. He was seven—
Eight, he remembered rather dumbly. He had missed his birthday.
Zach was eight years of age.
He could taste the bile in his throat and jerkily swallowed it down.
No. He pressed his hands to his face. Zach was strong. He’d learned magic with Sypha who was fucking inredible and he was a Belmont and—
And he had run off because he’d wanted to see Trevor.
He had just enough control to jerk himself over the side of the chaise to vomit.
His stomach clenched, throat burning as the retch ran through it. He heaved, hearing the splatter against the floor, against the damned green carpet, and when he gasped, the sharp, sour odour hit him full force and he gagged at the scent of it, at the way he could feel the lingering acidic feeling in the back of his throat.
Bile coated his tongue as another wave of nausea ran over him. His hand scrabbled for purchase, clutching at the chaise, nails scratching against fabric.
Fuck. Fuck!
He breathed harshly through his mouth, each inhale bringing that terrible smell back to him and he hated it.
A sudden coolness framed his face. Trevor sighed softly at the touch and the touch moved, brushing strands of hair back from his forehead. He leaned into it, panting heavily. Eyelids fluttering, the world was a blur when he finally blinked them open.
A thread of saliva dangled from his lips. When he panted, it swayed with the movement. Grimacing, he spat, watching it join the puddle of sick beneath him.
He couldn't bother to hold himself up, pushing his head further into the cool hands encasing him, relief flooding him as familiar fingers wiped at the perspiration on his forehead, before sliding down his nose and over his cheeks.
He could hear the tremor of a voice but his ears felt as though they'd been stuffed with cotton. Everything was so distant and Trevor wonders if this was it. Him slowing himself down if the world wouldn’t, carving himself a space of silence so he could just grieve.
The hands disappeared and he made a disagreeing sound and quickly, strong arms gathered him instead, under his knees and behind his back. He was adjusted, held close and tightly and he pressed himself to the column of his throat, smelling the lemongrass and ginger and Trevor’s sure he made another sound because Adrian’s arms tightened and a sharp wind flew by them.
When Trevor felt himself being lowered into bedding, he forced open his eyes and noticed that they were back in his room.
He’s moving, pushing himself up against the mattress when Adrian gently urged him back down.
A warm breath touched his ear and for one moment, the world cleared, the buzz faded and he could hear Adrian’s low voice beside him.
“Rest.”
Trevor did.
— — —
He woke up better than he’d previously felt.
His room was warm, and Trevor blinked but the curtains were open and daylight had passed.
He had slept for hours.
For a moment, he allowed the feeling of being well-rested to sink into his skin before the panic set and Trevor realised that Zach had been taken and Trevor had just wasted hours sleeping—
He’s tangled in the blankets, about to rip through them as he turned over, pausing only when he felt someone lying beside him.
It’s not Adrian.
Trevor blinked at Ann’s sleeping face.
He sank back into the blankets at once, turning toward her with care. Her expression was peaceful, free of stress.
Trevor let out a soft sigh.
An itch ran down his nose and he scrunched it, trying to hold it back, but sneezed all the same.
Ann launched up immediately, an arm protectively reaching over to where Trevor was laying.
They both blinked at the other.
“Morning,” Ann tried, then her eyes flicked behind him. “Or well, night.”
“Night,” he huffed. His smile soured at the smell from his breath. He muttered, telling Ann to hold on as he left for the bathroom to wash his mouth.
He didn’t look at his reflection, enjoying the frigid water that he splashed on his face and rinsed with. He’s tempted to turn the tap for the heated water but he’s almost sure he’ll spend a few minutes running his hands under it and becoming drowsy.
Ann was sitting up when he returned, looking around the room with unconcealed curiosity. He noticed a tray on her side table, covered by a metal cloche and a jug and cup beside it.
“What do you think?”
“It’s nice. More than.” She grinned mischievously. “I took a peek into your bathroom before I fell asleep,” she whistled appreciatively. “That is wonderful marble work.”
“It is,” he grunted as he flopped back onto the bed. “Did you see the glass ceiling?”
“I did.” She grabbed the tray, settling it on the bed and Trevor blinked as she uncovered the cloche and saw the food prepared.
She shifted awkwardly. “Uh, your h– Adrian prepared it. For you. When you woke up.”
Trevor looked over the contents. A leafy salad with vegetables, sausages and a white sauce there. Trevor had a suspicion what it was but brought the small bowl to his nose to sniff.
He grinned. Mujdei.
His eyes fell on the last piece of food and his grin widened. “Here,” he passed a piece of bread.
She eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Garlic bread. Try it.” He urged at her hesitance.
She took a small bite and promptly devoured it in the next second. “Holy shit, this is nice.”
“I know. Henry would like it.”
“He wouldn't even chew,” she smirked but faltered. “Neither would Zach.”
Trevor’s stomach dropped. Finally, he asked what happened.
Ann paused. “Start eating.” It wasn't a request and Trevor stabbed at his salad.
She watched him take a few bites. “Well, you threw up. Adrian immediately took you away, to well, here.” She scowled lightly, “he wouldn’t even let me get a word in. I got lost trying to find you all before Doctor Tepes stepped in and led me to your room.”
He swallowed, remembering Adrian’s arms around him. “And then?”
“He apologised for leaving so quickly, said I could stay here while he completed some tasks. Though I would have stayed anyway,” she quickly reassured him, and he huffed, patting her arm.
“I know you would.” He stared at the door, wondering if Adrian was back. If he was staying in his own room now.
He stabbed a sausage. “What about Dracula?” He referenced their conversation to find their allies.
“Oh, he just watched you.”
He choked, turning to her with wide eyes. “What? He was there?”
“Yes?” Ann stared. “He and the others hadn’t left yet.” She flapped her hands. “But don’t worry! Once we checked up on you, Henry, mother, and Sypha joined them in his office. I know they’re still focusing on finding everyone, having made contact with the Matron. I was going to get an update but then I fell asleep…”
Trevor pressed his hands to his face. “Fuck. How could I—“
“You did nothing.” He froze at her hard voice, unfamiliar for Ann, lowering his hands.
Her eyes were full of determination. “Mother broke down after we found out Zach was gone. Henry went mental. I could barely say a word for hours. This? This is nothing.”
Trevor stared, seeing it all so clearly in his mind. It was terrible and it was real and it was grief. But Zach wasn’t dead. He didn’t care what Isaac said. Trevor wouldn't succumb to grief, he wouldn’t falter until he had his brother back.
“Besides, I don’t think Dracula cared. He didn’t really react.”
“He never does.” He said dryly.
But Ann only stared at him, brow furrowed and blinking. Trevor was about to ask what happened when she was in his space immediately, clutching at him as if her life depended on it. Trevor gasped into her hair, inhaling the grassy smell that seemed leeched into her skin since she was a child.
Pulling back, she stared up at him, smiling. And then her smile wobbled and her eyes filled with tears as she sobbed into his chest.
“Ann!” He collected her in his arms, holding her tight. “What is it?”
A particularly loud sob ripped through her. “I missed you.”
“Oh,” he ran a hand through her wild hair, rubbing circles into her back. “I missed you too.”
It’s a different ache compared to when he saw Henry.
Henry was… older. Trevor had depended on him, sought him out constantly when they were younger. Ann had done the same to him. He couldn’t unload his troubles on her but she’s here.
He wondered if this fragile security is how Henry had felt before he’d broken in his arms. Trevor didn’t want to break. Not with Ann. And it’s hypocritical of him, he knew. How could he want Henry to show vulnerability when he won’t do the same?
The thought pressed down on him, that familiar guilt and loathing with it and he leaned back just enough to spy Ann’s face as she rested over his chest.
Fingers trembling at her tears, Trevor wished he could turn back time. But he couldn’t, no matter how much he wished for it. Gathering Ann up in his arms, he rocked her gently, shushing her softly and pressed kisses to her hair.
He pressed his eyes shut at their familiar sting, feeling the tears escape through the corner regardless and he shook, chest shuddering with emotion he tried to hide.
“I wish things were different.” He murmured and he felt her sob, voice muffled when she spoke.
“Why is it always us? Father and now him. Haven’t we g-given enough?”
“Oh, Ann,” he sighed.
He didn’t disagree. The thoughts from the astronomy tower were loud but Trevor remembered Adrian’s words, the show of stars and planets and hope.
“I know it feels like that. I’ve thought about it too. Sometimes I don’t want blood. I want comfort. I want life. I want a sun that never sets… But it doesn’t work like that.”
She sniffed. “But why?”
A rueful smile. “Because the sun sets and the monsters still roam. Because as much as I want it all, I want to protect too. And for that, I have to be brave.” He sighed.
“I don’t feel brave,” she confessed.
“A lot of times, bravery feels like fear.” He brushed her hair away from her face, gently ushered her up to wipe away her tears. “It’s not fair Ann, you’re right. But this is who we are. It can change, if anyone wishes for it, if they want to leave. Father… he died protecting us.”
Her voice broke. “He was brave.”
He remembered his screams, the thick fog of smoke and the echo of his own name.
“He was. And now we need to be too, for Zach.” He squeezed her hand. “He’s waiting for us.”
Ann nodded, wiping at her face and squeezing her fists over her eyes. “I will. I’ll always be.”
“I know.” He paused, watching her for a moment and told her what he knew would’ve encouraged him. “You make me brave.” Her eyes snapped to his, wide and disbelieving. “You all do.”
Her bottom lip was trembling and for a moment, Trevor thought he’d said the wrong thing. But Ann didn’t cry again. No, she straightened and fisted her hands.
“You know, you’re what’s pushed our family these past weeks. How could we falter knowing what you gave up for us? How could we?”
He stared, feeling his heart thump after every word. He knew what they all thought, that he was mistreated or isolated by the Tepes’ after his wedding. A lamb for slaughter. But… he wasn’t. He never was.
“…Ann, I’ve been fine here.”
“I know. But it’s not about whether you have been or not. It’s the fact you left. For us. You were brave and I— I couldn’t ever forget it.” Her eyes blazed. “We all love you so much. I’m sorry it took us so long to visit.”
Raising his head, he spied the tray forgotten to their side, precariously titled between their movements. He exhaled, feeling something in his chest warm. It was a terrible circumstance to be in. He wished more than anything that he could turn back time and prevent it from happening. From that and more.
But. But there was something here from Ann’s words and everything else. He felt as if something was shifting in him, and his family. Something they were going to fall upon for a while.
“I love you all.” He said. “I always will.”
They smiled at each other, the burn of the fireplace covering their faces in warmth. Strange, that fire once made him panic.
“Eat up,” he murmured eventually.
“That’s your food.”
“We can share. Always have.”
Her smile was wobbly. “Yeah.”
He saw Ann staring at the tray, a wondering look on her face. “What is it?”
“Nothing!” She fiddled with the tray's handles as she put it back between them. “Just… It's nice that Adrian did this.”
He stilled. “Yeah… It is.”
For a moment, he thought Ann would say more. He saw the curiosity in her eyes, the endless fiddling of her fingers as she thought.
Finally, she spoke. “He seems nice,” and promptly shoved some salad in her mouth.
He blinked. “…That’s it?”
“Uhuh.” She took another mouthful before shoving the tray to him. “That’s enough for me. Eat up.”
He did, still keeping an eye on her until she threatened him until he finished his food. He does, practically scoffing it down and all of a sudden he feels tired. It’s ridiculous because he just slept but he just wants to lie down again.
Placing the tray aside, he leaned back against the headboard, looking out at the stars he could see from his window. Ann quietly did the same.
He’ll get up in a few minutes, he told himself. He’s just waiting for this bout of exhaustion to pass.
The stars glitter as they always do, yet Trevor thought they seemed duller. Did they? Or had his time on the astronomy tower reinvented his expectations, a silver dusting that he could see even when he closed his eyes.
He couldn’t see all the constellations from his point.
He looked for Orion, anyway.
Trevor closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the fireplace yet inside, he felt as cold as the night sky. He didn’t shrug off Ann as she placed the blanket around him. He was warmer and yet still so cold.
And when sleep finally pulled at him with its whispers, Trevor thought only of the silver dusting of Orion’s bow and the harsh ink strokes of a letter.
Please father… Please tell me what to do.