Chapter Text
Broken Egg
Sypha Belnades went down into the catacombs of Gresit determined to prove herself. Sure, her magic wasn't always very reliable, but she was convinced that in a life or death situation it would come through for her. Why should she have to wait for the Hunter to show up? Surely, if the prophecy were true, then the mere act of her approaching the Sleeping Soldier would summon the Hunter as well?
She travelled ever deeper with a growing worry that perhaps she should have left a trail to follow back to the surface. Was she going in circles? This chamber looked familiar-
The ground trembled and her heart stuttered at the brief impression that the catacombs were about to collapse around her. Instead, slow footsteps shook the floor enough to make Sypha stumble and fall. An enormous cyclops entered the chamber and before she could scramble out of the way a beam of light shot from its eye and hit her dead on.
Which did… absolutely nothing. The cyclops tried again, and again the light sort of, itched, at most. It didn’t hurt.
“Ha!” Sypha shouted in triumph. She stood and raised her arms to cast, only to find that her well of magic remained out of reach. No matter how she strained, her power would not respond to her call. “Oh no, oh no no nonono, not NOW!”
Without a means of attack, she could only run when the cyclops reached out to grab her. She dodged between the statues that she could only assume must be the cyclops’ previous victims. If her magic wasn’t cooperating, then what was protecting her from being turned to stone?
Sypha paused behind a pillar to catch her breath and assess her options. Could she fight this thing in hand-to-hand combat? Probably not. Her go-to self defense move of kick them in the crotch and run wasn’t going to work if she couldn’t even reach the thing’s- ugh stop thinking about it. If she had a weapon she might have a chance of hitting something vital but she hadn’t seen anything in here. Really, she didn’t have a reason to stay and fight if escape was an option. One of the entrances to this chamber was small enough that the cyclops might not fit through it.
Decision made, she made a break for the exit. The cyclops was right behind her but she didn’t dare look back. Her magic still refused to come to her call.
She almost made her escape before she felt wind rushing against her back and a giant fist hit her with bone-shattering force to send her flying into the wall. There was a brilliant flash of light leaving her body and she landed on the ground with a loud SPLAT!
Sypha watched in shock as her limbs melted into clear goop and she coughed up not blood, but pink petals. Her last thought before she was completely unmade was, “But I was so close! I almost made it!”
The Sypha Belnades who grew up with Speakers, who befriended Trevor, whose body was as soft as her heart and kept her sunshine-blonde hair in a traditionally short style, who struggled all her life to access that well of human magic, never returned from the catacombs of Gresit.
Far away, in the Court of the Sun, the adoptive niece of the Empress cast her Songs. The closest thing she had to a True Name was Decipher. A knight and the High Musician, she had worked hard for the respect and awe with which the court watched her perform. When the Changeling died, the Stolen Childe dropped to her knees, clutched at her long red curls, and in a voice still heavy with powerful magic,
Screamed in agony.
The World of Men Kinda Sucks
"Are you sure you want to do this, little sunbeam?" her mother fussed.
"I won't be leaving forever," she said for what felt like the hundredth time. Her head still ached but at least it no longer felt ready to explode with someone else's memories.
"But humans are greedy and diseased and hostile! What if they capture you? What if they infect you again?" Her mother paced back and forth across her dressing chamber and fluffed her head feathers in agitation.
“We had this conversation before my first expedition to the mortal world,” she reminded her mother, “and I was fine, remember?” She turned her head this way and that in an attempt to better see her hair in the mirror, so that she might begin the arduous task of picking out all the decorative gems and pearls scattered in her curls. The fine glittering powder that had been dusted in her hair and over her skin would require a bath to remove.
Her mother was behind her in an instant, kneeling down to her height and plucking out the decorations that she couldn’t see on the back of her head, hands gentle but moving inhumanly fast. “Yes, and I am terribly proud of you, but you weren’t alone! You had other knights riding with you!”
She smiled at her mother’s reflection in the mirror. She didn’t know how to explain why she needed to enter the mortal realm on her own, why she needed to meet the people in her changeling’s memories.
Sypha Belnades. Sypha Belnades was why. She felt the name encase her like a second skin and settle in her chest like she hadn’t even realized her heart was elsewhere until it snapped back into place. A precious, dangerous secret that she didn’t dare utter aloud. Her powerful magic and her lack of a true name were the reasons she had survived growing up in the Court of the Sun. Yet she desperately wanted to shout it to the sky, to feel those sounds in her mouth and hear her name with her own ears.
A name chosen by someone else, for someone else. The Changeling was a copy of her but the Changeling chose the name, so which was the original Sypha?
“It should have been me,” she thought as the Changeling’s memory of the naming ceremony ran through her head. Why did that decoy, that rushed copy, get to decide something so important? Why did someone else get to live her life?
And such a cushy life it was! The Changeling hadn’t even realized how easy she had it. She didn’t just have her guardian, her “grandfather” looking after her, the Changeling had a whole group of people who went out of their way to keep her safe and happy. The cruelty she experienced was never at the hand of the people she lived with and the concept was mind boggling.
She, the human among courtfolk, had only ever been able to trust her mother and herself. It took over a decade of training to show other members of the court that she was more than just her mother’s pet, and years more on top of that to reach her place in an essential role: the High Musician. Stubbornness and sheer spite had fuelled her. She didn’t regret not being returned to the human world once she had recovered from the sickness that would have killed her; her childhood hadn’t been all bad and this life had pushed her to become more than she ever could be among humans.
That's why her Changeling died. The Changeling had been weak, spoiled, had expected the world to catch her when she fell.
She was self aware enough to recognise that her bitterness came from envy but that just made it worse. To envy her Changeling for living a life that allowed her to be soft and sweet felt like a betrayal to the loved ones and status she now had here in the Court of the Sun.
She didn't regret this life or what it had made her into, it was just that -
How could she -
She didn't realise that she was crying until her breath stuttered in a sob that tarnished the gold mirror frame.
Her mother was humming a lullaby of sparks from when she was a child. The tiny lights drifted around them both like dandelion seeds, gentle and soothing.
Sypha let herself cry, if only to get it out of her system and because she would miss her mother’s bright voice while she was among the humans. She would be able to show weakness in the world of men even less than among her own people.
When her tears stopped her mother said softly, “If you don’t want the humans to notice a difference, you’ll need a changeling’s glamour.”
Sypha couldn’t help but snort at the irony. It was true though; she needed the humans’ minds to glaze over her sudden change in appearance and any other oddity from their perspective. “Will you help me?’
“Of course, my little sunflower.” her mother kissed the top of Sypha’s head. They both knew that Sypha could easily Sing a glamour for herself, but her mother Sang the original Changeling, so her mother would be better able to imitate it. She hesitated before adding, “it is alright to want more than what one life can give you. We are Royals, it is in our nature.”
Something eased in Sypha’s chest. Her mother had once told her that a Court was basically a treasure horde of people that a Royal wanted in their life for whatever reason. She had not truly understood the impulse to collect loved ones together in one place until now. Wouldn’t it be nice to have easy access to them all at once? That hadn’t been a problem before, when everyone she loved was already living in the Court of the Sun.
Of course, Sypha was only an honorary Royal. Her human body did not shift to reflect her status and logically she should not have the instincts of courtfolk, but being raised on their food and ways of thinking could change a person.
Sypha hummed in thought and the tarnish on the mirror began to recede. “Perhaps I will bring home some souvenirs.”
Her mother laughed.
…
When Sypha opened a faerie ring to the mortal world, she found herself in a dirty city of stone. The smell of every imaginable body fluid was heavy in the air. Though she didn't see anyone else on the small street she had appeared in, it sounded as though there was a crowd not far away.
She peeked around the wall of the nearest building and saw a market place covered in gore. The sun was well risen, surely it could have been cleaned sooner? How long could it take for humans to knock body parts off of rooftops? Unless they just didn't care anymore. Her Changeling's memories indicated that these attacks had been happening for a while now. Had they simply gotten used to this? Yikes.
With her clean body and Court style clothing, she would stand out far too much in this place but she wasn’t willing to dirty herself and steal peasant clothes just to blend in. She only had to make it to her Changeling’s death site to hopefully find Speakers’ robes to hide in. Stealth was part of her knight’s training; it should have been easy.
Should have been. She stuck to the small deserted streets and avoided any humans. It was as she approached the entrance to the catacombs that she was spotted.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman,” called an ugly voice from behind her, “wandering around naked like that?”
Sypha bristled at being called a woman, such an inaccurate interpretation of a Royal. She spun to face the ignorant creature. “Do your eyes fail you?” she snapped, “can you not see the cloth upon my form?”
The human looked her up and down. “Shit’s see-though. I’m seeing more form than cloth.”
At home, her current state of dress would be considered a very modest show of her status. Loose fabric covered everything but her arms and her Musician’s wand was tucked away in a sheath. Though, as more relevant memories trickled into her mind, she realized the problem was not the amount of cloth but rather the sheerness of it.
The way he looked at her made her skin crawl. Sypha was no stranger to lustful stares, but there was something about it coming from a dirty mortal that made it much more vile.
"Look away," she Sang.
The man cried out in alarm as his body twisted unnaturally so that his back was turned to her. She took the opportunity to dash into the catacombs. She couldn't wait to pull on those Speaker's robes.
With her Changeling's memories guiding her, it didn't take long to find the right chamber. The enormous smear of changeling ingredients and empty blue clothing marked the spot of her death quite clearly.
Sypha made a face at how soaked the outfit was, all too aware that the shimmering goop came from one of her mother's dud eggs. It only took a few notes of Song to clean off the fabric, and a few more notes to cut her hair short. She wrapped the cut hair in her Court clothing and disintegrated the evidence. Only her wand and sheath were left, and that was easy enough to hide under the baggy Speaker's robes. On the Changeling the robes were a comfortable fit, but this Sypha felt as though she were wearing a tent.
With her disguise in place she had planned to pick up the quest where her Changeling left off, but the sound of approaching footsteps had her vanishing from sight. Had that accursed mortal followed her? But no, the man she encountered on the surface did not smell of herbs and hurt the way this one did.
The arrival of her "old friend" brought about a change in plans.
3.5 Cranky Toddlers
Sypha crosses her arms and glares at her frie- her Changeling’s childhood friend, though she’s pretty sure he can’t see her from where he’s laying on the ground. She doesn’t need him to “save” her! She could have knocked that hot vampire into next week! Even if she had only screamed in surprise, it would have incapacitated him!
“Was this part of your plan,” her voice echoes in the chamber as she approaches Trevor and the aforementioned hot vampire who’s gums-deep in Trevor’s neck, “getting chewed on?”
Trevor gives her a weak thumbs up with the hand that isn’t pinned. His eyes are unfocused and his breathing is uneven, but at least he’s still responsive.
With a jolt of alarm Sypha remembers that Trevor already came dangerously close to dying of blood loss today. She’s about to give Hot Vampire a musical kick in the ribs before he yelps for no apparent reason and pulls his mouth away from Trevor’s skin with a sickening squelch. He scrambles away and Sypha only catches a glimpse of his terrified face before he curls into a fetal position, burying his face in his knees and covering his ears as though to block out a loud sound.
"Ow," Trevor mutters. His injuries form green scabs before even a drop of blood can leak out. He does not sit up.
"So, now what?" Sypha asks. She considers sitting down so she won't be hovering over him but decides she's earned being the only person in the room who isn't crumpled in a pathetic heap on the filthy floor.
"Now, we, uh…" Trevor trails off as his eyes drift to the gap in the vines that Pangur had disappeared into when the fight broke out. Sypha suspects he may not have enough blood in his brain to even bullshit a plan.
She sighs. "Do I have to carry you both back to the surface?"
"You'll fuck up your back an'... there's only room for one… with a busted body, in this proph'cy." He grins like he's said something funny.
Sypha would argue, but she's not sure how many people a human could comfortably carry before it became suspicious. At least he's smart enough not to suggest she couldn't lift them at all. "Don't pass out."
"Me? I would never." His unfocused gaze would not make his statement convincing, even if she hadn't found him passed out earlier.
She turns to the other pathetic heap on the floor. "And you, Sleeper? Any thoughts?"
"H's name'sss, Adr'n," says pathetic floor heap number one.
"Alucard," pathetic floor heap number two corrects, before clearing his throat and uncurling to at least sit up while introducing himself. "I am called Alucard, lesser known as Adrian Tepes." He stands with slow, careful movements. "Son of Doctor Lisa Tepes and… Lord Dracula." His face is blank.
Sypha smiles, because this is what human locals do to show they are polite and trustworthy even if they are not particularly happy at the moment. "Thank you for your name, Alucard.” She resists the urge to speak his truer name, lest he sense the power it would have on her tongue. “Do you have any suggestions for our next course of action, considering our Hunter is near death from blood loss for the second time in the past 12 hours?"
Did she see a flash of guilt on his face, or is that just petty hopeful thinking?
Alucard heads back to his coffin to retrieve a shirt and gold embroidered coat, as if he can distance himself from acting feral mere minutes ago by getting fully dressed. “My venom will help him regrow blood, but he will still require food and rest.” He glances over his shoulder at Trevor, who makes a vague noise of confirmation.
“I’m not gonna die, I just need a fuckin’... nap,” Trevor drawls from his place on the floor, “‘ve had worse.”
“Indeed,” Alucard says to himself, though not quietly enough for Sypha to not hear.
“Oh?” she raises her eyebrows. “Care to share what you know ab-”
Trevor lets out a loud curse as he tries to sit up and swoons right back down again, suddenly frantic. “Where’s m’bag? Where’d it -” He manages to roll to his side and starts dragging himself towards the rubble of stone and crushed roots their fight had created.
“Be still, ” Alucard snaps.
At the same time Sypha says, “I saw it fall over here somewhere,” and starts digging through a different rubble pile. She really hopes the bag will have some intact medical supplies, even if it’s just herbs to help with blood loss. The sloshing noise it makes when she finally finds and picks it up is not reassuring. Sypha sets the bag next to Trevor before he can make another attempt at moving around. “Please tell me you kept things in water resistant packaging.”
“... Fuck.”
“I suppose that’s a no.” Sypha unbuckles the cover flap and the sharp scent of copper hits her nose just before dark blood begins to overflow from the bag. She pulls away before it can stain her robes and sees Alucard twitch at the edge of her vision.
“That’s not the problem,” Trevor says, straining to see into his bag. “Are there any bottles that aren’t broken?”
Alucard slips on gloves and reaches into the still leaking bag to unpack the soaked contents. He sorts what he finds into piles of packages wrapped in oil-cloth and shards of glass. The only bottles he finds intact are smaller, sturdier ones filled with tinctures and one wine bottle with protective wards carved all over it, the contents much too viscous to be wine.
"Only one?" Trevor stops trying to sit up and flops back into the puddle of blood as though he doesn't even notice it. "Dammit, that's not nearly enough… "
"Are you going to tell me why you were carrying what looks like a whole cascat of blood?" Sypha asks, inspecting the carvings on the remaining container thereof. The puddle on the floor is slowly disappearing, presumably from the plant vines soaking it up.
Trevor sighs, "for one of my… customers. They're too recently turned to be safely hunting on their own, so they need a stockpile for when I'm not there."
Alucard's lips thin at that, though he doesn't look up from searching through the packages. "Feeding a fledgling is the duty of their Sire. They'll be malnourished if they only drink human blood while they're still developing."
Trevor turns his head to level Alucard with a Look. "You really think every vampire sticks around after Turning someone? I've yet to meet a truly feral vampire who wasn't abandoned before they learned to control themselves."
Sypha’s smile is genuine this time. "So, this is the vampire equivalent of adoption? That's almost sweet, in a morbid sort of way."
That makes colour start to return to Trevor’s deathly ashen face. Apparently, Alucard hadn't been lying about the healing properties of his venom. "I'm not going to kill a kid because they might become a serial murderer if they're left to fend for themselves."
Alucard pauses. "They're a child?" He asks, voice softer than before.
"Late teens, I think. They're not fond of sharing personal details." Trevor inhales deeply before twisting onto his side. His clothes are stained and sticky all along his back and the already messy bun his hair was in is a matted rat's nest at this point. He doesn't seem to care, gesturing at the packages. "The big one there, it's got my food supplies."
Alucard unwraps and opens a woven basket to reveal shiny apples, bread, and cheese in wax paper. "Hmm. I was beginning to think you only carry questionable herbs and snake oil."
Sypha tip-toes her way through the mess so she can slice and hand over the food before Trevor gets any ideas about sitting up and handling a knife in his condition. “He’s not a plant, it’s not like he could live off of dirt and sunlight.” She almost takes out her Musician's wand out of habit. Sypha mutters under her breath, “dammit, where’d I put the eating knife?”
Alucard hands her one seemingly from nowhere. At her expression, he says in a dry tone, “there was a hidden sheath on the inside of the basket.” He tilts the basket so she can see the little cut in the lining.
At both of their expressions, Trevor says, “what? It’s just convenient! Those little things are easy to lose!” before once again trying to sit up.
Sypha pulls the knife out of Trevor’s reach before he can grab for it. “Would you stop moving around and be patient? Honestly, you’re just as bad now as you were as a boy!”
Trevor raises his eyebrows. “Bit hypocritical, that.” He makes as though to lay back down but in the blink of an eye he nabs one of the apples and scoots back so he can prop himself up against some vines. His face as he takes a bite just screams what are you going to do about it?
“Oh, you little-!”
“I’m behind on delivery as is, I don’t have time to take it easy,” Trevor says through another mouthful of apple, “and I know my limits better than you do. You think I would last in this business if I pushed myself until I burned out?”
Alucard picks up the blood bottle. “Where were you meeting this fledgling?”
Trevor narrows his eyes. “... why?”
Alucard narrows his eyes right back. “You can continue to leave them thirsty and waiting without explanation until you’re fit for travel, or you can allow me to deliver this myself. A single bottle is still better than nothing.”
“... fine. But you bring them back to me as well, so we can figure out a new feeding plan.” Trevor grunts as he shifts around, trying to find a position that doesn’t strain his torso while he eats. “They should be in the forest north-east of Grisit. I’ve taught them to hide from strangers, so good luck.”
“I think I can manage tracking down a fledgeling.” Alucard stands. “And their name?”
Trevor smirks, and Sypha thinks he wouldn’t look out of place among the Courts. “They don’t have one.” He nods at the entrance to the tunnel of vines that lead them here. “The plants can guide you out, and you’ll know the kid when you see them.”
“I suppose anyone raised on genuine witch’s blood would stand out.” Alucard turns to leave, bottle tucked into his coat.
“If you hurt them-”
“You’ll what? Kill me?” Alucard gives a pointed look over his shoulder at Trevor’s prone form.
Any humour in Trevor’s face disappears entirely. His voice is deathly cold as he says, “I’ll light my blood in your veins on fire and add your skull to my collection.”
Alucard inhales through clenched teeth. “You’re sick.” He disappears at inhuman speed.
Trevor closes his eyes and tilts his head back to rest against the vines with a tired sigh.
Sypha only stares at this childhood friend of her Changeling’s. Were the memories she got of him warped by time and bias? The threatening presence he had filled the room with had felt horribly twisted and wrong in a way that left her both disturbed and intrigued. How human was he really?
“Not going to tear me a new one for bullying a disowned orphan?” Under his breath Trevor adds, “I’d fucking deserve it.”
The Changeling probably would have, but all the Stolen Childe can think of is her mother dismembering a lower Court member for trying to poison her. “You really care about them, don’t you?” She hands him a slice of bread with cheese.
Trevor stares at the offering with disproportionate despair. “I don’t understand you.”
“And I, you.” She sits down next to him and wedges the food in his mouth as he tries to cuss in exhausted confusion. “Do you really think the Doctor can be brought back?”
Pangur crawls out from where she’d been hiding and shakes herself before bounding over to Trevor and curling around him.
He chews and swallows the food Sypha had so kindly hand fed him. “As a mortal human, like nothing happened? No.”
Sypha continues cutting up food. “But that stone really is her soul?”
“Yes.” Trevor runs his hands through his familiar’s fur. “I’m hoping we can at least give her enough form to share her last words and snap Dracula out of it long enough to kill him.”
“I think you should tell Alucard that,” She says, handing him apple slices, “it would be cruel to let him think he might properly get his mother back.”
Trevor finally submits to the mortifying ordeal of being cared for and accepts the slices without protest. “It’s still going to require some level of necromancy. You’re not bothered by that anymore?”
Right, she was meant to be a Speaker. The Courtfolk weren’t morally opposed to such magic the way most humans were, they only considered it lowly mortal nonsense. “I’m not thrilled by it, but it’s better than not doing anything.”
“Hmm.” Trevor’s eyes are starting to droop even as he chews. He makes a disgruntled noise when she pops the last apple slice in her own mouth and pats his head.
"You need to rest before we go back to the surface."
"So do you." Trevor closes his eyes, and Pangur opens hers to look at Sypha. "Pangur can keep watch."
Sypha can sense dawn breaking up above, but Trevor is unfortunately right; she's barely rested since… since she died. She considers telling Trevor to scoot over so she can lean against him like when they were young, but she doesn't want to risk instinctively lashing out in her sleep.
"Here." Pangur seems to deflate a little as Trevor pulls a blanket out from inside her and passes it to Sypha.
"You have hidden pockets everywhere," she says in place of thanks.
"You can thank me when 'm awake again."
"Don't tell me what to do," she mumbles as she arranges the blanket to her liking.
Trevor only gives a weak huff of laughter before drifting off.
Sufficiently bundled and comfortable on her bed of plants, Sypha looks to Pangur. "Your master is so rude."
Pangur just places her paw over Sypha’s mouth as though to shush her. Sypha falls asleep before she can think to protest, or register that the giant cat’s glowing eyes are the same as Trevor’s.