Chapter Text
When Isaac found him, Trevor was huddled in the usual lab, browsing aimlessly through different medical books, trying to distract himself from current circumstances.
When he cleared his throat, Trevor only hummed, knee bouncing below the desk.
“I am glad to find you. Your family is worried.”
He was in the process of turning his page and froze.
“Adrian also wonders where you are.”
His eyes closed briefly. “I’ll be there soon.”
For a moment, Isaac said nothing, and Trevor continued to aimlessly flip through his pages.
“I understand how you feel––”
And the rage spilt.
“Do you?” He spat. “How? You have no one like Zach.”
Isaac’s brow furrowed as he watched him, and then he said, “I have Adrian.”
The page ripped under his hand. Trevor looked at the broken scratch of writing, shamed.
Isaac continued without a beat. “I understand because not a year ago, Lisa, a woman who had cared for me, raised me as her own, cherished me, went missing and was almost burnt at the stake. I understand because the week following it, we had no idea where she was, and there was nothing I could do. I understand because I would rip the Church apart if Adrian were harmed, humanity be damned. I understand.”
The paper crumpled in his fist. Lisa would detest that, but at least she was alive to complain.
Trevor met Isaac’s stare, ashamed.
He had no idea what Isaac went through when Lisa went missing. He had no idea how any of them felt. He… he and Adrian never spoke of it.
The realisation was damning and pathetic because he saw it now, the many times Adrian had comforted him, helped him. All the times he had opened his door to Trevor, and he had barely done the same.
So fucking selfish.
“I’m sorry.” He tried to smooth the paper out and ignored his slight shake. “I’m so—” He exhaled. “That was wrong of me.”
“As I said, I understand.” He sat across from him, watching him closely. “However, may I ask something?”
As if Trevor would say no after the offence he’d caused. “Sure.”
“I was under the impression that you would be used to this.”
Trevor blinked, “What?”
“Your family has been in the role of guardianship for generations. I believe you’re more familiar with death than any other family in Europe.” He rested his fingers over his cheek, a simple gesture. “What I mean to say… You have not been handling this as I thought a Belmont would.”
Every previous thought of acceptance and grievance vanished. The chair toppled as Trevor stood quickly. “Fuck you.”
But Isaac didn’t respond to him in kind. He barely blinked, and Trevor hysterically realised he was serious. He’s actually fucking serious.
“Do you think this is all ordinary?” He shouted. “What, that the people we promised to protect would turn on us, that my father would be burned in front of my eyes and that I’d be married to Dracula’s son?”
He laughed harshly. “Yes, I suppose it’s ordinary that the Church has soldiers that we all struggle to beat. That forced us into a pact. Soldiers who have taken my brother.”
“You’re right, I am familiar with death. But I am familiar with my brother more.” He shook his head. “You said you understand. You just said—”
Was there something wrong with him? Not Isaac, but him. How was he the only one who couldn’t stop these racing emotions? How was he the only one who felt like this?
He doesn't understand. None of them do.
He couldn’t anticipate Isaac’s next words.
“Do you feel better?”
Trevor’s hands, still thrown up in outrage, lowered an inch. “What?”
“I am asking if the release of your feelings has helped you calm down?”
Trevor’s chest heaved; outrage gave way to confusion, then to a settling understanding. “No. Yes. Fuck off.”
But Isaac only smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Forgive my previous behaviour.”
He shook his head. “God, this is fucked.” He went to the door. “If you want me to have a clear mind, it’s training that’ll do it, not this shit.”
A pause, and Trevor’s not sure what Isaac’s keeping. He doesn’t really care.
“Before you leave, would you like to hear the update on the Gorgon antidote?”
Trevor closed his eyes briefly. He’d forgotten about the fucking thing.
“It’s ready?”
“The serum had been collected from the centrifuge yesterday. I’m afraid that recent events have distracted us from the final process.”
He grunted. “Well, it’s not that important now.”
“Indeed. However, as you’ve said, there is nothing else you can do now. Would you like to finish it?”
Would he? Trevor would rather do nothing but find Zach, but he can’t. The antidote for the Gorgon venom, which had once seemed so promising, taking up entire days, now seemed so… unneeded. What was the point of it if it could not help Zach? What was the point of anything?
But Isaac seemed to realise this and herded him into a corner. “For the sake of your family, as they are graciously worried, I will tell them where you are. Unless you are in the midst of something vitally important and cannot be disturbed."
Trevor scoffed; the answer made for him. “Fine. What do we need to do?”
“The test. The serum’s ready, we only need to add it to the venom-coated wells and wait for the reaction. If the antibodies are present, the solution will change colour.”
Just as Adrian had explained before. “Okay, let’s begin.”
“I will bring all the parts from Dracula’s lab. Luckily for us, this part does not need any heavy equipment, so we can do it here.”
Because he’s still banned from Dracula’s lab for being involved with his son. Never mind, he was his husband.
Trevor watched him go, clenching his fists and busying himself by slotting every book into its rightful place. Adrian should be here, he thought dully. This was their experiment, something they had started together.
When Isaac returned, smartly carrying everything in a trolley rather than his arms, which Trevor would have done, he didn’t want to do it.
“I need Adrian.” He blurted.
His brow rose. “Oh?”
Trevor felt his face heat. “Yes. It’s our experiment. He should be here. He…” he trailed off, unsure.
“But you don’t want to see him,” Isaac observed.
He spluttered.
“Or your family.”
“No…” He hesitated. “It’s not a matter of want.”
Again, Isaac surprised him. “That’s perfectly fine.”
Was it?
He straightened the equipment. “There are only two simple steps left in the antidote process, which you and Adrian can do together. I would recommend leaving the antigen coating overnight for better results.”
He nodded, thankful he wasn’t elaborating.
“What about—”
“Oh, Trevor. You’re here.”
Lisa stood in the doorway, hair braided and eyes unsure. She looked between them, eyes settling on their equipment curiously.
“I’m sorry to interrupt.”
He waved her off. “Of course not.” He explained what their final steps were and grinned at her fascination as she peered at the made serum, muttering under her breath.
“Incredible. You and Adrian have made great progress.”
And he smiled. “You’re the one who introduced me to this. Who made it interesting.”
The memory of his first trip here, holding a small thermometer in his hand, all seemed as if it had simultaneously happened long ago and also last week.
“It can only be as fun as the student makes it.” She squeezed his shoulder, and the simple action was enough to make something clog in his throat. “And you have been wonderful.”
And it’s a testament to how wrong everything has gotten that instead of basking in her praise or stammering a thanks, Trevor thinks, I cannot let anything happen to her.
The idea comes quickly.
“Training,” he blurted.
Lisa blinked. “What?”
“I said I’d train you after the attack.”
Something passed through her face. “Yes, you did. And it was a very good idea. Shall we head over to the training room now?”
But Trevor’s mind was a whirl. What weapon would they use? They did not have enough time to proficiently train her in a single weapon. Not enough that it would protect her from the Churchmen, let alone the Guard, by herself.
Lisa was not a violent woman. He remembered her pleas on the pyre before he had leapt forward, begging that Dracula would not harm others.
It had seemed so ridiculous in the moment, even in the aftermath when he had hidden them both. Trevor had watched her sleep and wondered what type of woman he’d saved.
He needed something that she would acclimate to in a short amount of time, something that didn’t require lots of physical practice. Something that was long-range because he didn’t want Lisa anywhere near danger.
Something that was silver.
Inexplicably, his mind landed on his time in Iasi. The merchant who had shown him corned power. He had first thought of something similar to a cannon. But there was no way Lisa could just lug that around. He needed something… smaller.
He spoke slowly. “I have an idea, but I…” He looked at Isaac. “I’ll need your help.”
—
His idea was better than Trevor could have imagined. Not only was Isaac familiar with corned powder, but he’d seen its use in Constantinople under the Ottoman Empire.
He’d seen it and brought it back.
Trevor stared at the weapon in excitement.
It was exactly as Trevor had thought it, a smaller version of a cannon.
A long gun. An arquebus.
It was genius.
They quickly got to work. Lisa had returned to the labs to grab their reserves of corned powder, and Isaac, taking her leave as a cue, quickly demonstrated how the arquebus was used.
The powder was already loaded, so Isaac hoisted it over his shoulder. They decided to aim at the open window, and Isaac pressed the trigger.
Trevor quickly saw several improvements they could make, pressing his fingers to his ears.
It was too big, first of all. He didn’t want Lisa struggling to hold it or aim at any moment. The recoil was another issue, and the time it took to simply load the corned powder was ridiculous.
Trevor leaned over Isaac’s arquebus, brow furrowed, fingers tapping restlessly on the table.
God, maybe he’d expand their family into the weapons business if this was what was being made.
Bulky and slow.
“Unless she’s going to club someone with it, this thing is useless.”
Lisa piped up, returning with the black powder. “I can certainly try.”
He scowled. “You’re not going anywhere near them unless it's your only choice.”
She squeezed his hand softly. “I know.”
He returned the gesture. “We need to make it smaller for you. Lighter.” He stared at the weapon. “The barrel.”
“You want to cut it short? Won’t that ruin how it fires?” Lisa asked.
“This thing is meant for a battlefield, something you will not be near. You need distance, but not all this.” He gestured at it.
Isaac nodded, finger at his chin. “Yes, that’s correct.” Head cocked, he pointed at the handle. “We won’t be able to remove much here. The recoil will still be hard.”
But Lisa stepped in. “You should brace it.” She tapped her upper arm. “If it can rest on something, say a hook, it will take the load off me. Stop me from having to hold it in place.”
Trevor grinned at her words. “Maybe we should swap family professions.” He snickered at her amused expression.
Isaac interrupted. “There is an issue.” He picked up their bag of powder. “Too much time is used up to dispense powder into the muzzle, and then take into account ramming it into place with the ball.”
He sighed. That was an issue.
“Let’s fix what we can for now.”
— —
Bang!
Trevor lowered the gun, glancing at the dummy. It had a hole in the middle of its chest.
“Alright. That’s the gist of it.”
Lisa stared intensely at the dummy. “That’s… quite a bit of damage.” She didn’t sound as if she enjoyed it, but…
“Good. This is what you’ll need against the Church.”
She murmured, “Yes.”
He passed the long gun to her, watching her slot their new arquebus onto a wooden shoulder brace. It was curved and wide enough for the arquebus to firmly set into.
They had set up various training dummies on the far side of the room, each closer than the next, to test Lisa’s aim at different distances.
Trevor hovered over her anxiously.
“Alright, remember, there will be some recoil on this. Make sure your legs aren’t close together,” he gently kicked them apart, “and keep your arm lower,” he nudged it down.
“There’s no need to fret, Trevor.”
“I’m not fretting.” He squawked.
He was, but he shook his head, continuing to correct her posture and making sure she remembered it.
“In any fight, you won’t have time to focus on your stance. It’ll have to come naturally, like instinct.” He gestured for her to straighten. “Try it on your own.”
She did, and Trevor corrected the small mistakes. And then he made her do it again, and again, and again, until he was sure she’d finally gotten it on her own.
Lisa was smiling triumphantly when Trevor finally passed her.
“Now to shoot.”
It was Isaac who stepped up now, showing Lisa exactly where to place her eye level for a clear shot. He explained how wind would affect the bullet's trajectory, how the glare of sunlight would affect her own sight.
They explained every possible scenario that could occur, and Lisa, in her determination, had lowered the gun, quickly scribbling their words onto a small notebook she carried on her person. She loaded the muzzle with powder, efficiently ramming it with the small, metal ball.
“Now,” they watched her lift and slide the gun into place. “Let’s begin.”
Standing a step behind her, they watched her perfect her stance and take aim.
“Try to hit the closest dummy,” Trevor suggested and saw her adjust her arms.
Lisa exhaled lowly, shoulder tense. Before she took her next breath, she pulled the trigger.
Trevor winced at the loud bang that slammed through the room, quickly stepping forward to steady Lisa as she stumbled from its recoil.
She patted his arm, eagerly looking past him.
“Did I get it?”
The training dummy was perfectly intact.
“Oh, no.” She sighed. “Where did I—”
They all spotted the hole in the wall. It was a few metres past the dummy.
Lisa frowned, inspecting the gun carefully.
“You’re alright, Lisa. No one gets these shots straight away.”
“That’s all well coming from a Belmont,” she smirked, and Trevor laughed.
“I suppose you’re right.” He turned her attention away from the dummy. “What do you think was difficult?”
“The recoil. It made it quite hard to balance. I was sure I had the correct aim.”
He nodded. They had already tried to lessen the recoil as much as they could, but someone of Lisa’s size would still have difficulty with it. Trevor frowned, looking at the weapon.
“Let’s try again. Get you used to it. All else fails, we’ll keep working on it. Try to make it smoother. Smaller.”
Lisa nodded determinedly, moving to reload, and Trevor smiled, watching her.
“I’ll bring some more weapons in the meantime,” Isaac suggested. “Nothing wrong with her learning to wield a dagger.”
He nodded, watching Isaac leave. If he could, he’d try to get her proficient in every weapon they had. But there was no time.
Lisa’s next shot still did not hit. And neither the other, though it was closer than the first two.
Time passed, powder smoke floating in the air. Lisa’s breath had grown uneven, and she coughed lightly at the smoke, flapping her hand in front of her.
“Don’t overthink it,” he quickly said before she could. “Practice makes perfect.”
But she frowned, staring at the dummies with a faraway look in her eyes.
“Lisa?”
She blinked. “Ah, yes. I won’t.” And quickly got back into stance, but Trevor stopped her, taking the gun from her gently.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Lisa.”
“Goodness, Trevor. You’re too perceptive for your own good.”
He blinked. “No one’s ever told me that.”
“Pity on them,” she sniffed.
“Lisa,” he dragged her name out. “What’s wrong? Tell me.” He asked gently.
She sighed. “I… I suppose I am afraid.”
“Lisa.” He felt terrible. “I didn’t— I don’t mean to scare you with all this.”
“I know,” she assured him. “And I’m glad you’re teaching me. I’ve never… fighting has never come naturally to me. I’ve always been a healer. I never thought my hands would be bloodied in a different way.”
He swallowed roughly. “I know. But this is necessary.”
“That is precisely why I am doing it. I can’t… the world is not how it should be. The strong hurt the weak, and the children now protect the parents.” Her laugh was thick, and Trevor immediately took her hands into his.
“Lisa.”
But she shook her head, reversing their grips and squeezing their hands.
“I cannot keep relying on you to save me. I cannot allow it. I am the parent. I am your—”
She broke off, and Trevor swallowed.
‘You are like my own son.’
“Lisa,” his voice was rough. “You have protected me.” He spoke over her denial. “You have. You saved me after the attack in the clearing. You,” he laughed, the memory unexpected and wild. “You pulled me out of bed during my first day here. I would have rotted in that room as long as I could, but you pulled me out.”
“But that is only—”
“What a mother could do.”
She froze. “Trevor…”
He swallowed, the words almost stuck in his throat. He was almost scared to say them but he had to, he had to, because he could not bear the look on Lisa’s face as it was now.
“I… you are like a mother. I mean, you are a mother, but to me, you're…” And this part didn’t concern Lisa, but it was something Trevor had never wanted to admit to himself.
“Sometimes, I look at you and wonder if this is what it was meant to be like. If my mother hadn’t been ill. If the children hadn’t come soon after.”
Lisa’s eyes were shining. “Oh, Trevor.”
A step sounded behind them.
Lisa’s breath caught, and he turned to see Dracula standing at the doorway, and at his side was—
Trevor froze.
His mother stared at him with sad eyes.
Dracula spared him the attention and stared at the room with confusion, eyeing the weapon at Lisa’s feet with furrowed brows. “Lisa, what’s…”
She cleared her throat, caught as off-guard as Trevor was. She hesitated, staring at Trevor’s mother, but she only kept her gaze on him. Lisa stumbled in her response. “Oh! Trevor was training me with the arquebus. He and Isaac modified it and…”
Her words faded. Trevor could not hear her, not with his mother’s stare on him. He couldn’t decipher her expression, and he grew nervous, foot tapping on stone and wondering what she’d heard—
“Trevor.”
He snapped back to attention.
“Yes?”
“I will take over Lisa’s training for now.”
He belatedly realised it was Dracula who was speaking, who had addressed him.
“I don’t—”
“Go.” And Trevor must have lost it completely. Because Dracula didn’t sound angry. He didn’t even sound unkind. He looked at Trevor, and his red eyes did not burn.
“My Lady, we will finish our discussion soon.”
His mother nodded, and Trevor looked at Lisa, who didn’t seem too angry at Dracula kicking him out. In fact, she almost looked pensive, staring at his mother with a look of understanding.
When he hesitated, Lisa smiled softly. “It’s alright, Trevor. You may drag me here as much as you like. But for now,” and her eyes flicked to her mother, her voice soft, “you should speak to her.”
He jerkily nodded. He knew that. He knew this discussion was overdue.
When he turned to his mother, he had schooled his expression. But his hands would not stop shaking. Trevor curled them into fists and followed his mother outside.