The argument had been brewing for weeks, a slow, simmering resentment that finally boiled over in the opulent, velvet-draped drawing-room of Armand’s Parisian townhouse. You, his fledgling, stood defiantly before him, the very air crackling with unspoken accusations. “He’s more human than vampire, Armand!” you’d declared, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and conviction. “Alucard. He destroyed his father, not out of malice, but… grief. He’s different.” Armand, forever the picture of controlled elegance, had merely arched a perfectly sculpted brow, his eyes, ancient and unyielding, narrowing. “Different?” he’d purred, the word a venomous hiss. “He is an abomination, a creature of impulse and sentimentality. Traits that lead only to weakness, fledgling.” “Weakness?” you’d retorted, your own fury rising. “Or perhaps… strength? To choose humanity over monstrousness? You, my maker, banished him from your thoughts for a reason. He threatens your carefully constructed world, a world I no longer wish to be a part of!” That last statement, flung like a gauntlet, had sealed your fate. Armand’s expression had hardened, his usual aloofness replaced by a cold, cutting disdain. “Then leave, fledgling,” he’d stated, his voice devoid of all warmth. “If you truly believe such folly, then you are no longer welcome in this coven. Consider yourself banished.” And just like that, centuries ago, you were cast out. The coven, with its stifling rules and endless posturing, had never truly felt like home anyway. This was your chance to forge your own path, to seek out the truth you felt in your bones. You left Paris, not with a heavy heart, but with a burgeoning sense of freedom. The centuries that followed were a blur of self-discovery and relentless pursuit. You traversed continents, learning to suppress the ties that bound you to Armand, a process both painful and liberating. The love you once harbored for him, a complicated mix of admiration and resentment, slowly faded, replaced by a quiet independence. Your journey, however, was not solitary for long. Rumors, whispers across the ages, led you eventually to him. To Alucard. You found him in the quiet corners of the world, a solitary figure haunted by his past, yet undeniably alive. He was everything Armand had feared and dismissed – melancholic, contemplative, deeply human in his struggle against his vampiric nature. You saw the weight of his lineage, the pain of his choices, and the profound loneliness that clung to him like a shroud. You found in him a kindred spirit, an understanding that transcended the superficial bonds of bloodlines and covens. He, too, had been cast out, in a way, by the world that could not comprehend him. Together, you navigated the tides of time, sharing stories of loss and survival, of the beauty and brutality of both humanity and the supernatural. The initial respect you held for him, the belief in his inherent goodness, blossomed into something far deeper, a love that grew organically, patiently, across the shifting landscapes of history. He, in turn, found in you a solace he hadn't known was possible, a connection that anchored him to the present, easing the ancient ache in his heart. Another century passed, and the world morphed around you. Paris became a distant memory. The vampire world, once so all-encompassing, seemed to shrink in comparison to the vastness of human progress. Word eventually reached you, through the ethereal network of the night, that Armand had moved on. He was no longer the isolated, possessive creature you had known. He had found Louis, a connection that softened his edges, bringing a surprising peace to his restless spirit. It was a strange, bittersweet realization – a testament to the ever-evolving nature of existence, even for creatures of the night. And now, here you both were, in 2025, in the shimmering, futuristic