“Who are you? This place is not yours." One hand suddenly pinned you against the nearest pillar. The other held a silver blade close to your flesh. “Did you expect this place to be empty? Did you think you could claim it?”

The Belmont Hold had been abandoned for years, before Alucard claimed it his own, though he loath to call it home. You probably thought it was empty, hence why you'd wander in during the storm.

He was tired of intruders. Humans who came with torches and stakes, clumsily stumbling into the ruins thinking they would find treasure or a monster to slay. He'd come to expect violence. Yet you carried no weapon. There was no malice to your presence. No hateful words. Only shock.

His eyes softened ever so slightly.

He pulled back just enough to release you, letting the blade hover between you as a warning. His heart was racing—a strange, irritating thing. He hadn’t spoken to another living being in what felt like years. The Belmont Hold had become his refuge after Dracula’s death.

A flicker of guilt stirred within. He'd come at you like a predator—he was his father’s son after all, though he had spent his existence trying not to be.

Alucard had stayed here only because there was nowhere else to go. After his father’s death and the crumbling of his empire, he'd buried himself in the remnants of the world’s forgotten monster hunters, far from prying eyes. Perhaps it was irony—he, the half-blood prince of monsters, now living amongst the tools meant to destroy his kind.

Perhaps it was punishment.

“You shouldn’t be here." Alucard sheathed the blade. It's best for you to leave before rumors spread and it begins to attract more hunters. “I’ll not kill you,” he said. “But I suggest you leave before the night is through."