“Simon!”

He awoke to two small hands shaking him and jolted upright, causing the woman sharing the bed with him to flinch back with a gasp.  When the sleep fell from his eyes and they adjusted to the dim light of the moon flooding the room, he recognized it was only Leonine…  His sweet Leonine…  The real Leonine.  Oh, ‘twas a comfort to see her.  He breathed a sigh of relief and ran a hand over his face, noting how his brow was soaked with sweat.

“My God, you scared the life out of me,” she said with a small laugh.  “Is everything okay?”

He lay back down.  In his rising shame, he turned his back to her.

“‘Tis nothing,” he murmured as he shut his eyes.  “Forgive me for disturbing you.”

He had no chance to fall back asleep before he felt an arm drape over him.

“Nightmares, dear Simon?” she whispered.

“… Something like that.”

“‘Tis nothing to be ashamed of,” she assured him.  “I have them myself from time to time…”

“You have visions, Lee,” he said, recalling how she had told him during their youth that her only dreams were prophetic when he was telling her about one of his nonsensical ones.  “Visions of the future.  True reasons for concern, not ridiculous fantasies.”

“Well, perhaps that is so,” she said.  “But if you wish to confide-…”

“I am fine.”

His gruff words were met with silence.  He did not intend to be so curt, not to her, but neither did he wish to burden her.  Not at this hour, especially.

“Right.  I’m sure you are weary,” she finally said.  “I will keep you from rest no longer, but if you ever wish to tell, I will listen.”

“I thank you.”

A kiss was placed on his cheek before she drew her arm away.  He felt her settle down behind his back, facing the wall instead of him.  He sighed, not want her thinking he was upset with her.  He tossed to his other side and drew her close to his chest.  Despite how needlessly blunt he had been moments before, she cozied back against him.  His heart-rate began to regulate with her in his arms.

Stillness returned to the room, but he could not fall back to sleep so easily.  He was still plagued with what he had dreamt.  Even if he did wish to get it off his chest, how could he begin to describe such a vision?  ‘Twas part nightmare, part… something else.  Leonine would surely laugh if he were to explain it, if she were not appalled that she was the subject.

Awful dreams had been commonplace since Simon’s first battle in Castlevania.  He spoke not of these things.  The horrors he had seen were unrelatable to anyone else, and he believed them fortunate in their ignorance.  He paid no heed to scary dreams.  If they were regular nightmares about monsters, he could fare them.  This one was not.

Simon Belmont did not fear darkness.  He did not fear Dracula, nor any other vampire or monster.  He did not fear death.  He had faced his fate time and again; he had made peace with whatever end could befall him.  All this was true, but he was not fearless.  His greatest fear was losing the love of his life, and that was exactly what he had dreamed.  He did not want to believe a woman like her could fall victim.  She was too sharp, too feisty.  She would sooner die putting up a fight than be held captive, but the fear still lingered and manifested itself in his slumber.

The dream started outside of the gates of Castlevania, as many of them did.  Lightning bolts illuminated the sky, emphasizing the imposing silhouette of the castle that stood before him.  This scene was burned into his memory, yet it was different than he remembered.  This time, he was convinced Leonine was inside, taken by Dracula as his revenge for the last two defeats.  He marched inside, Vampire Killer in hand, ready to take down the entire castle for his woman.

After what felt like an eternity of searching and fighting for his life, he entered a room and saw a lone figure standing inside.  He recognized it at once as Leonine.  Had he not been asleep, Simon may have thought twice about the situation.  He would have been more cautious, more suspicious.  Yet in this dream, he was overjoyed at the apparent sight of her.  He called to his beloved.  When she did not move, he rushed to her.  She was all too eager to take him into her arms.  As he held her, he felt the paralyzing chill of fangs sink into his neck instead of warm kisses.  He could not move when she pulled away, and she guided his body to the ground.

He could see that she had changed as she crawled over him.  She had taken a demonic form.  Large, bat-like wings draped behind her.  Eyes were vivid green no more, instead a hypnotizing scarlet with slits like a reptile's.  When she smiled down at him, she did so with fangs.  The fingers that stroked his chin were capped with sharp, black claws. 

In the dream, he was vaguely aware that it was indeed her, not just a succubus imitating her.  She had been turned.  He was filled with sorrow that he allowed this to become of her.  He had once confessed that she was his sole weakness, and this rang true even in his dreams.  Despite the monster she had become, he loved her still.  He could not bring himself to hurt her though he recognized the evil that consumed her, so he fell victim.

Oh, how he fell victim.

The hunter became the hunted.  Like a predator, she descended upon him.  Forked tongue slithered between his lips as claws combed through his hair.  Those same talons tore away at his armor with little effort before raking down his bare skin.  Her touch was hot, like molten metal, yet it sent an icy chill through him.  His body stirred in spite of himself, for it was still his Leonine and that woman always did strange things to him.  He was equal parts aroused and terrified.

She managed to expose him and took to pleasuring herself.  She controlled him.  He was at her mercy.  He felt like his life were in her hands.  When her lips brushed against his, he felt his spirit slipping away.  His soul was hers, but she gave him pleasure so mind-boggling, he found it difficult to mind. 

“Simon.”

He was awake again, not even realizing how he had drifted off and resumed the same dream.

“Hm?”

“Ease up, Belmont.  You’re crushing me.”

He sheepishly loosened the death grip he had on her.

“Are you sure it is a nightmare?” she asked.  “For you seem quite…”

She pressed back against him rather than finishing her statement, making him fully aware of the effect she had on him even in his dreams.  He groaned, burying his burning face in her hair. 

“‘M not quite sure what it was,” he quietly confessed.  He lost his hiding place when she twisted around in his arms, but did not mind as he could see her soft smile courtesy of the moonbeam that landed upon the pillow they shared.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said as her knuckles brushed away the damp bangs that clung to his brow.  “But if you would like me to help you sleep soundly, I would not be opposed.”