3Prologue
Adrian "Alucard" Fahrenheit Tepes.
Most people would find him unapproachable. Cold blooded. Ruthless. Deadly.
A monster.
But what they don't know-don't think about-is him.
His personality, his peeves, his humour, speech patterns, movement, how he thinks; none of it.
All they see is a monster.
The result of a doomed relationship that never should have happened.
The relationship between a human woman and Dracula.
In every way, he should have died. Either in the womb or of a premature birth. But the world just decided to let him live. A miserable, lonely life.
At the age of seven, he and his mother Lisa were dragged from their home in the woods because the poor woman was accused of withcraft.
She was a healer. A doctor. She wanted to learn about the world and how to make it better. So she set off on a journey to find someone who would teach her. Someone who had all the knowledge she could use to help people.
She found a twisting castle, and in that castle, she found Dracula.
Dracula gave Lisa all the knowledge and instruments of medicine and healing. Let her look upon all that he had collected during the long centuries that he was alive-undead.
And because of those instruments, one of her patients-an old woman who had a cough-ratted her out to the church.
The church came soon after, in the middle of the night. Adrian was asleep. Lisa was organizing her medicinal herbs.
The door was kicked open.
It was so loud that it startled Lisa who was so used to her husband's fits of anger that she had gotten used to loud noises, jump.
Adrian was awoken unpleasently from his slumber, but had the good sense to stay in his room, under his small bed.
That didn't last for long, however. For two of the bishop's lackeys soon broke down his bedroom door.
They first checked the closet, then under the desk. Finally, they found him under the bed.
Adrian knew what this meant, even as a newly fledged seven year old as of a few weeks prior.
He could hear his mother arguing with what sounded like someone of high standing, who Adrian didn't know at the time was the bishop.
His mouth was clenched shut during the trip to the kitchen where a few more preists and the bishop were standing with his mother.
Adrian caught the tail of the bishop's sentence. "...working with the devil himself. We will not trust the words of a witch."
After a while of what Adrian thought of as the bishop talking in circles, he and Lisa were dragged from their cozy little cabin as it was set aflame.
On lonely tear fell down the young boy's cheek, but there was more to come.
After a long, tense carriage ride, they arrived at a city square. Adrian heard a preist call it Targoviste.
A large cross was set up among piles of dry wood. A brick of dread settled itself in his stomach as they were shoved out.
But before they could be lead any further, Lisa leaned down to her child's ear and whispered, "I love you, my baby. Please do not hate the humans or your father..."
With barely parted lips as to not show his fangs, he whispered back, "I love you too, Mama."
A sad smile was shared between them as Lisa was lead to the cross.
Within the next hour, Adrian would have no mother, a genocidal father, a scar from the flames on his shoulder, and a deep, permeating loneliness.
But he would try to stay strong.
After one week of steady mourning, he had banished all sadness from his mind. 'Cause maybe if he wasn't sad, then Dracula wouldn't be sad, either.
It didn't quite work as planned.
His sadness just got bottled up and up and up and up, until it was over-flowing.
During that time, he was contemplating ending his life.
He was only nine.
The scar remained, no matter how much blood he drank or how much food he ate, it stayed. A constant reminder of his pain.
Dracula could see his son's pain all too clearly, unfortunately. And that drove him over the edge.
He lost his wife, and now he might loose his only child, too. All because of those nasty humans.
And thus, started his genocidal rampage.
Adrian tried to stop him, keeping his mother's last words in his head always. But in the act of doing so, Dracula lost his sanity in a fit of sorrow and turned his claws on his son.
Another scar was added to his collection.
To heal from the battle, ten year old Adrian, now taking up the name Alucard went to sleep in his coffin that his father had prepared for him if anything was to happen to him.
And that is where he stayed. For seven years, four months, twenty-three days, thirteen hours, fourty-two minutes, and six seconds. All until a certain Belmont opened his coffin by falling down a hole.
