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Trevor had only gotten a little drunk--as a treat. Between dodging people learning his identity and taking on a few shitty odd jobs for money, then getting stiffed, it had been a fucked week. So he'd deserved to have a break. Just Trevor, a sticky tavern, and a few mugs of stronger, bitter beer.
Then he'd gotten into a fight. Then gotten kicked out (as well as kicked in general). As the final shit on his day, while he'd been throwing up in a little backalley, he'd gotten kidnapped.
Not that he remembered much of that--being grabbed and knocked out maybe. His neck hurt, which was always bad. The vampire in front of him when he opened his eyes was worse.
"Listen," said the blood-sucker, letting Trevor get up (big mistake), "I know what this looks like, but I have need-"
Trevor was not listening. Large room, lanterns which did not look to have flames, metal pipes, and two giant blood canisters connected to a coffin. Holy shit. Just like his ancestors' descriptions of the inside of Dracula's castle. Which meant-
"-Which means the deaths of thousands. So I hope you can understand why I-"
He'd left Trevor with all his weapons. With a practiced move, Trevor grabbed his whip and swung it at Probably-Dracula, getting a satisfying impact from the strike. The vampire flew through the air, landing and skidding right up to the stairs of the coffin's platform.
"You made a mistake," Trevor snarled.
The vampire rose, eyes flashing, more floating than standing, summoning a longsword to his hand--fuck, of course he had magic. "Perhaps I have."
Their fight went quickly. Probably-Dracula had fast reflexes and extra speed from his vampiric powers, not to mention the extra strength. Trevor lasted as long as he did only because of his training--short as it had been--and learned skills, his own reflexes, and the fact his primary weapon was blessed and had longer range and flexibility. Some of which didn't matter when Trevor was forced into close combat. He took several hits which couldn't be avoided from so close, and his backup measures only got him taunted. (As if Trevor had needed "class" anytime in the last decade.)
Then Probably-Dracula was hovering over him where he'd sprawled, hand in his hair tugging back to reveal his throat even as Trevor spit out, "Don't fucking touch me."
"Then you shouldn't have attacked me first, Belmont," Probably-Dracula said with cold venom.
"Oh, is that what this is? Just a little invite over to chat?" Trevor snorted. "Sorry I didn't bring my most proper fighting manners. Were you hoping to kill the last Belmont in a duel with etiquette? After knowing us for centuries?"
Something seemed to have startled the vampire, his brow furrowing under his stupidly long, loose blonde hair. "What? Kill you? Weren't you listening to a thing I said?"
"Yeah, I got it exactly," Trevor bluffed, trying to unobtrusively get one of his knives into a good staking position. "'Sorry to kidnap you,' 'the deaths of thousands,' and several other evil points-"
"You weren't." The vampire looked more shocked and insulted than Trevor thought he had any right to be. "You didn't pay attention to why you were here at all."
"I don't need judgment from Dracula on how I, a Belmont, should behave in his castle."
"Drac-?" Cut off with a grunt--a stabbing would do that, Trevor would know--the vampire looked down for a split second and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away and twisting until Trevor was forced to drop the blade. Not deep enough to kill, damn. Fucking vampires and their skewed priorities meant he just went back to asking, "You believe me to be my father?"
"Sorry, didn't think he'd send a minion-... uh." Trevor tried to shake his head, remembered the grip on his hair rather painfully. "What? Dracula has a son?"
"Which you would know, if you'd paid attention to my introduction and explanation," Dracula's fucking son said with an eye roll. Since Trevor's brain had decided to desert him temporarily, leaving no response, the vampire continued. "I am Adrian Țepeș, known as Alucard, son of Lisa and Vlad Dracula Țepeș. I need a hunter to help me stop my father."
Lisa. Lisa, he'd heard that name. Trevor made sure to avoid any areas with witch burnings, given the fact he could just as easily be carted along too, so he'd paid attention when a supposed witch named Lisa, "the Devil's wife," had been burned in Târgoviște. But Lisa...
"She was human," Trevor said, mind whirring with the implications. "Your mother. Wasn't she?"
Adrian dipped his head, hair hiding much more of his expression. "Yes." Then he stood, offering a hand up. "Will you listen now?"
All the wounds were healed. Trevor had little to no chance of killing this vampire--or half-vampire--especially given his disadvantages. Belmonts had worked in groups before for a reason. So, with little choice, except martyring himself for absolutely no benefit, Trevor accepted the hand up, feeling better once on more even ground.
"Guess I can."
"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming."