Castlevania: The Tragic Prince Scene 1

The Letter

By Dawn Wilkins

My fairest Maria,

     My heart is but a candle as I write this most wretched of letters. It burns brighter than words can convey but that matters not–the circumstances are as they are and neither I nor you may sway the hand of God. Soon, I must snuff out this candle just as surly as I must snuff out my own heart. Some may take no joy in meeting one such as darling and lovely as you, embittered by the loss, but I shalt not be one of them. Though it makes what I have to say that much harder I shalt be glad to have known someone as wonderful as you, my dear Maria. Yes, I shalt be grateful for that which was even as I lament that which must be.

     The confrontation with my father has been fought and achieved. Richter and Annette are safe and well. We are all safe, for now. Castlevania shalt not return in your lifetime and, hence, there is no need for me to see you again. Do not mourn. I am a vampire, as was my father, and have no place in this world. ’T would be best if I return to my immortal sleep. When Castlevania rises again from the cursed shadows I shalt awaken from my slumber, also.

     Know this, my darling, that I love you. Well, as much as one of my blood can, I suppose. I could never tell you that to your face lest you seek to make something of this most woeful of unions. And that would be a tragedy. I cannot help but think of my parents and what readful things came of their love. I shan’t be responsible for another Prince of Darkness, Maria. And so, by the time you read this letter, I shalt be asleep. Please, take heart. For love, I must banish love. Farewell.

          With love and grief,

By the time the half-breed finished penning his letter and drying commenced, sunset peeked through his window. Alucard glanced up with champagne eyes to witness the last nightfall he would in this lifetime. It was beautiful, plainly put. Thin streaks of rose and azure merged with lavender and threads of faint crimson. It might have been a tapestry of colors to bide the prince farewell.

He smiled briefly at that thought–but the smile had a bitter edge to it.

Alucard was aware of his blasphemous legacy as the product (or vampeal, as the common phrase goes) of a human female and a vampire aristocrat. He, the son of the most compassionate and loving woman in existence. He, the son of the most unmerciful and tyrannical monster in existence. One might consider the match comical. Alucard did not. It was his life. It would be his death. For he was the embodiment of sin and love, all in one breath.

His gloved fingers deftly recapped the inkwell, careful not to snuff the candle. Breathing over the parchment, to speed along its drying, his other hand lifted a scarlet ribbon. Meticulously, the half-vampire slid the silk over the document in one fluid movement. One tug and the letter was sealed.

Dropping the paper to his writing table, Alucard sat back and rubbed his golden eyes. All was in readiness for his rest. His friends, with the exception of Maria, had helped him prepare for this night. The room he currently occupied had been cleaned and dusted after its original inhabitant had abandoned the keep due to its proximity to Castlevania (‘...something about a man-eating cat...’ Annette had explained). Alucard found no such apparition wandering the halls, assumed the initial resident’s imagination was a brilliant one, and promptly claimed the mediocre castle as his own.

Yes, the place had easily adapted to his needs. And they weren’t much. With Richter’s aid, the vampeal had furnished the area with a coffin and a writing table. An extensive-sized bed, with azure sheets, had been left in the chamber and Alucard didn’t bother to remove it. Once true night fell, he would lie down in that coffin and sleep a rest such as a vampire can only know.

Such as a vampire can only know, Alucard thought acrimoniously, though no emotion registered on his marble face. None ever could because he had slain those passions long ago. It was thus–either he quelled his emotions or permit his emotions to subdue him. No middle ground. He couldn’t allow that, of course, and to escape his father’s influence the vampeal destroyed all his desires and feelings.

It had served him well. The thought of losing his only friends and the one woman he could consider himself in love with pained him only remotely. The injury hadn’t disappeared but he could deal with it now. Not unlike applying ice to a wound, one might note. But how much longer could he withstand the cry of his own dark soul? The half-breed did not know and did not care...all that mattered now was the knowledge that someday he would turn on his friends. He, and he alone, could protect them and the rest of humanity from the wickedness of his birthright.

And now I must take my leave of you, dear companions, silently spoke Alucard. Into the fading candlelight, he whispered, “ friends...and, you, my love...mourn me not...” His eyes shut, digesting the peaceful darkness beneath his eyelids.

A voice, soft as fairies: “Hey, who are you talking to?”

The darkness of those closed eyelids altered to the blackness of another’s shadows. His metallic eyes focused to absorb the image of an attractive female standing over his desk. Hair the color of sunlight cascaded over her shoulders, pinned into a ponytail with a blackish-green ribbon. Her almond-shaped eyes, like emeralds, flashed with the diminishing light. She wore a green hunter’s outfit, complete with frills and saffron belt, and knee-high leather boots. Her cheeks drew back in a childish smile.

The lovely Maria.

As was his custom, Alucard let his cultured voice tone his words, “Good Evening, Ms. Renard.”

Her feathery blond eyebrows lifted. “Since when were we on last name bases, Alucard?”

The fiery Maria.

“Never, Maria.” His syllables flowed like silk. “What brings you here to my modest abode?”

“What indeed...” she fumed, tapping a silver dagger at one hip and a cross at the other.

Aware her juvenile nature demanded an answer from him, one she would twist to her own needs and toss back at him, the vampeal said nothing. This irritated her, he could tell. Her smooth lips thinned into a straight line. She had a temper, and a fine one. Still, he remained silent.

The beautiful huntress gave in, as he knew she would, “Richter tells me you’re going back to sleep.” She laid two gloved hands on his wooden table. A sure sign of her vexation.

“That’s correct.” His words continued to be akin an ice block–cold and smooth.

“You shouldn’t do it!”

“And why should I not?”

“And why should you?”

In the private recess of the vampeal’s mind, he chuckled. Maria was quite a handful. Then that laughter soured, once a sweet grape now the bitterest of wines. She was one of the rare individuals he’d met that could lift his heart. He idly fingered his heirloom blade. Maybe he could even love...but ‘t would be better not to spend time thinking of that which can’t be.

He refused to spar with her. “Maria, I must. For the sake of humanity and myself, I must. Don’t make this any harder for us. I...” Surreptitiously, he concealed the letter in the volumes of his cloak.

“But, you don’t have to go! We’ll find a way...Me, and Richter and Annette. You don’t have to do this!” Her lips formed a pout of her nature.

Irrational anger swept the half-breed. By mere will Alucard contained it and not a line of emotion marred his ashen features. He stood, alabaster hair falling to his waist. With a hand he flipped his ebony cloak over one shoulder. His champagne eyes appraised her. “Why? It’s far better this way...I won’t endanger you then.” The huntress seemed about to speak but he continued, “No, Ms. Renard. I will not allow one of my kind to remain active. I shan’t risk it!”

“But I would!”

“Why? Why do you care so much for me?”

“Because...Because, I love you.”

The words hung much like the mist that encompassed his domain. Both felt uncomfortable at the statement, though Maria’s disquiet was the only one visible. A slender finger picked at a sole lock of hair. Plus, her eyes declined to meet his. His ill ease was far less noticeable. In one fluid movement, as if passing through water, his hand stroked an angular chin. This was going to be more difficult than he’d originally imagined.

As if he was folding clothing, the prince gathered his thoughts. Meticulously, he extracted the most serviceable words to use to convince Maria the necessity of her surrendering this absurd task. Finally completed, Alucard’s lips formed the words but the spirited huntress’ next action silenced those syllables forever.

She kissed him.

He returned the kiss.

And then the thought of words vanished as they melted into an embrace.

His arms encircled her slim waist and hers slid around the half-vampire’s marble-like neck. Their eyes locked on one another–champagne to emerald–and both could swear the effect was physical. The heat from her body warmed the chill of his own and the silken threads of her hair tickled his cheek. Again, they kissed. And, again.

“Maria...” he breathed, his voice broken for the first time.

She answered by sealing his lips with two of her own.


Sensations, such as he hadn’t permitted himself to feel in centuries, now stormed him.


He lifted her up in his powerful arms, listening to her heartbeat, a mate of his.


And Alucard delivered Maria to the bed, laid her down lightly and held her.

Velvety moonbeams and the candle’s dwindling light danced over their bodies and their lips merged to one. The huntress lifted her hand to his chest, over the vampeal’s ebony coat, and felt his drumming heart. His golden eyes, glimmering with the light, softened at her touch. A sigh expelled from his lips. From hers.

Alucard brought that hand to his lips and kissed. With his other hand he peeled the glove off, ever so gently, and did the same to the other. One purr of delight from Maria informed the half-breed of his beloved’s pleasure. She rubbed her cheek against his throat, rasping in contentment. Smiling, Alucard kissed the second hand.


Her pulse beat with each pleasant, startled desire.


His heart thumped at the smell of that sweet nectar.


Two fangs descended into warm flesh.

Maria’s scream could have been a thousand vases shattering. Immediately, she snatched her punctured hand away. With her other hand, the huntress cradled the wounded limb. Eyes stared up in fright. For a moment neither could speak. But not for long; Maria was immeasurably shocked but not indefinitely incapacitated as she muttered:

“What have you done!?!”

He could do nothing but gawk, glazed pupils focused inward.

A tiny globe of crimson developed over the mar, scattering into streams of life fluid to eventually slid down her wrist and fall onto his gothic garments. More blood poured. And still more blood. Eyes aghast, Maria wrapped her hand with the ribbon from her hair. But, the blood persisted.

Words trembling like broken glass, Maria spoke, “....Alucard...Alucard...”


“No!” he cried, his voice several octaves above that attainable of a human.

But he wasn’t human. Not human at all.

He was a vampire.

“NOOOOO!” shrieked the prince again. The sound, so loud, shattered the window. A candle, the one he’d used to see his own text, followed suit. Briefly, the flame birthed into a patch of death but it was short-lived, doused by a damp carpet. His next scream could hardly be considered decipherable. All the hate of his race, the pain of his existence, the torment of the damned, colored those incomprehensible syllables.

Maria raised her uninjured hand to his face but he drew back as if she had the plague. His eyes, now animalistic, wavered between rage and grief. The prince continued to back away. His sable cape fluttered around him like shadows to herald his latest crime and his sword clanked as if a toll bell. His actions bewildered the huntress and, grasping her wounded appendage close, she pursed. Like a frightened wild beast, Alucard fled the room, his scream tearing the night.

He had just condemned the only woman he’d ever loved to a life of the damned.

She would be a vampire by dawn.

Scene 2

Dawn Wilkins' Fanfiction