Within the walls of Castlevania, there was no evidence of the passage of seasons.  The weather surrounding the castle managed to remain cold and dreary no matter the month.  This, combined with the lack of calendars, meant that the passage of time was surreal.  If one did not steadily keep track, it would slip away from them.  Gwendolyna was not one for paying attention; immortality rendered this pointless.  Even so, she was vaguely aware that it was around this time the year before that Richter entered her life.  If asked to explain why she was convinced of this, she would not be able to come up with any sort of reasonable response.

Gwen could not remember at what point Richter got so comfortable with her.  The change in their relationship was so gradual over their months together, she did not fully notice until he lay with his head on her lap, allowing her to run her fingers through the hair that splayed across her thighs.  They ended up in this position many nights, after she had read enough to lull him to sleep.  She smiled to herself as she looked down at his resting face.  He was so gorgeous.  His lips looked no less kissable than the first time she saw them.  Unwilling to disturb him, she had to talk herself out of leaning down and stealing a quick peck.

The vampiress almost found it difficult to believe this was the same man.  If she could go back into the past to tell herself after their first encounter that she required no spell to get Richter to warm up to her, she would have thought it a cruel joke.  She wondered if he even realized it was obvious that he no longer hated her.  What may have started as a conquest had blossomed into something more.  Though, she refused to bring it up for fear of him coming to his senses.  If he hadn’t recognized that he had accepted her love, perhaps it was better left unsaid.

“I’m curious,” said Richter without opening his eyes.  This question had caught her off guard, seeing as she thought he had drifted off.  She paused and tilted her head.

“Of what, my lord?”

“You.”

“Oh?” said Gwen, drawing back her hand.  “… What of me?”

“You and I have spent much time together.  Nearly a year, if I’m not mistaken,” he said.  At times, she believed the two shared a wavelength.  The chance of him bringing up the same thing that she had been thinking herself filled her with butterflies.  Though the romantic in her insisted this was proof of some deeper connection, she chalked it up to mere coincidence.  “And I’ve realized there is not much I know of you.”

“I fear there’s not much to me,” she said.  “But what would you like to know, my lord?”

“I understand it’s impolite to as a lady her age,” he said.  “But I’ve been wondering, just how long have you been alive?”

“Oh, my,” she giggled, causing a little laugh from Richter as well.  “What is the year?”

“1797.”

She went quiet for a minute as she did the math.  She almost did not recall the year of her birth, having been so long since she was required to remember it.

“About two hundred and seventeen years, I believe,” she said.  “How old are you?”

“I’ve not long turned twenty-four.” 

With a hum of acknowledgment, she resumed combing her fingers through his hair.

“You know, my lord…  I remember you from years ago.”  She paused to giggle again.  “You looked so young then!  And your hair was so short…”

“I was nineteen.  I probably looked no younger than you do now,” he said with a smile.  A moment passed, then he opened his eyes.  “If you knew of me, have you encountered any of my ancestors?  Simon Belmont?  Or perhaps Christopher?  Both had come to this castle.”

Gwen shook her head.

“I’ve heard a few names,” she said.  “I was warned of them, but I have never seen them.”

“Ah…”  His eyes fluttered shut again, but his smile did not fade.  “Well, perhaps it is fortunate.”

“What do you mean by that, my lord?”

“Should one have fallen for your wiles, I may not be here.”

Gwen erupted into laughter.

“If that is the case, I agree.  It is fortunate,” she said.  “Though, I feel like you would remain my favorite Belmont regardless…”  She grew a little quiet before adding.  “Who is to say they would not have slain a vampire like me?”

Now that she mentioned it, she had done so well to mask her true nature that there were times Richter forgot that about her.  It was indeed a pity.  She had the potential of being a girl worth taking home if only she were not a creature of darkness.  He knew not if his ancestors would grant the same mercy that he had extended towards her.  He found the idea of one of his own vanquishing her unsettling.

Yet the Belmonts that came before him were strong and wise men.  He wanted to believe it was possible that the others would perhaps recognize there was something different about this one…  That was another thing he was curious about.  What made her different?  How had she managed to go this long without succumbing to bloodlust?  Now that he had gotten her to open up, maybe he could gain some clarity on the bizarre circumstances of her vampirism. 

“How did it happen?” asked Richter. 

“Hm?  How did what happen?”

“How did you become a vampire?” he asked.  “You’re nothing like those who I have seen turn.  I’ve found no bite marks on your body.  I’ve often wondered.  Were you born like this?  Was it a spell?”

Gwen scowled as the memories flooded back.  After a shake of her head, she sighed and brushed the bangs away from his forehead.

“I am this way because Dracula saved me.”

“Saved you?” Richter repeated.  He pulled himself off her and sat up.  “How so?”

She folded her hands in her lap, avoiding looking at his gaze.  Back when she could still dream, she had nightmares of that day.  It was a memory whose pain did not fade with time.  Even centuries later, it still hurt to speak of what started it all.

“It began when word spread that Lord Dracula sought my village’s destruction.  Many townspeople thought that an offering to him might buy their safety,” she began.  “Burdened since my birth caused the death of my mother, my own father suggested I be that sacrifice.”

“Your father?” Richter asked.  The disgust in his voice was audible.  “What kind of man does that to his own?”

She did not have the answer to that.  All she could do was shrug before continuing.

“I thankfully no longer remember much of that man, but I do remember the last conversation he had with me,” she said.  “He reminded me the story of Christ.  The story I had heard so many times, of how he died so others could be spared.  He said all that to me, then handed me over and I was taken to the village square.  They tied me up.  I remember hanging there, sobbing and praying for mercy as the sky grew darker.”

She stared past Richter, focused on the flames dancing atop the candelabra.  She could still see the village she grew up in being engulfed by fire while creatures of the night tore everyone she had ever known apart.

“It is said the Lord works in mysterious ways.  Though unconventional, my prayer was answered.  When Lord Dracula arrived, he grew enraged when he saw me.  He took pity on me, instead smiting those who had the gall to bring harm to a child in an attempt to placate him.  He cut me down and kept me close, shielding my eyes as his army devastated the town.  When we returned to his castle, he promised me that I’d never have to fear humans again.”

Her eyes drifted from the candle, but she still refused to allow herself to see what Richter’s reaction to such a story would be.  A slight self-conscious feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, knowing she was talking somewhat favorably about the man who he considered his enemy.  She didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, but she couldn’t lie about Dracula’s impact on her life.

“There was once a time I was grateful for him,” she admitted.  “There is light in the darkness, and darkness in the light.  The most cherished part of my childhood was being in his care.  I remembered being so frightened at first.  I had seen how cruel he could be and what he was capable of, so I was ever obedient.  Yet never once did he mistreat me.  He cared for me better than my father ever did.  There were a few years where he went unchecked by man. Those years were spent rebuilding his forces; he did not have much time for me. I had permission to occupy myself with anything I so desired within the castle. He was the one who encouraged me to read, which was the greatest gift of all. That offered me an escape from my harsh reality."

She closed her eyes and shook her head.  A single tear rolled down her cheek before she continued.

“It took years to realize that his mercy did not give me life,” she quietly said.  “I was conditioned, you know… To be a monster.  Though coddled, I was always meant to be part of the forces he was rebuilding.  I’ve been kept from your kind, because he wanted me to only remember the worst of humanity.  He hoped my resentment would one day make me a worthy addition.  I was taught to fear you.  I was told the Belmont that approached would try to return me to my village if he found me.  I did not want that.  I did not want to lose the comfort he offered.  The thought of being removed from Castlevania was a nightmare.  I begged to be kept safe, and he assured me I would be.  I was given a drink to help me sleep and was told when I woke, I would have no reason to be scared…  How I wish that were true.  When I rose, the world was different, and so was I.  I learned a century had passed.  I was no longer a girl, and I was no longer human.  I had become something worth fearing.”

She held up her hands and looked at them, staring at the claws before balling her fists and hanging her head.

“When I realized what I had become, I was inconsolable.  My faith had always been so crucial to my survival in such a cruel world.  Learning that I had inadvertently renounced God’s gift of humanity, I wanted to end my own wretched life.  I hoped if I never fed on humans, that I would not survive.  Though when I grew too weak, I feared what waited for me on the other side and found myself feeding on small animals so I wouldn’t have to face it just yet.” 

She paused to let out a pitiful laugh and scrub her face. 

“Instead of being frustrated by this, it amused Dracula.  He laughed at my tenacity and even encouraged it, assuring me that eventually, I would break.  The more I avoided it, the more terrifying it would be when I finally cracked.  To this day, I still fear his words are true.  You’re not the first to tell me of my frightening potential.  Sometimes, when I’m alone with you, I wonder if I’m ever going to lose control and hurt you.  It’s my greatest nightmare.”

Never before was she given the chance to speak of any of this, and doing so unleashed so many emotions that she had bottled up for far too many years.  Now that she started, she wanted all of it off of her chest.  She wanted nothing to be a secret from Richter.  She continued though her words wavered.  She tried to blink away the tears, but they began to fall in spite of her efforts.

“Had I died with my village, at least I could have found myself in heaven.  My suffering and loneliness would have ended.”  Her voice began to crack as she said this.  “I was fooled.  He took from me that hope of salvation, exchanging my humanity for the wickedness of eternal life.  My fear damned me to an eternity trapped inside these walls of Castlevania.”

She choked up, shoulders shaking as the reality of her existence once again set in.  She wept harder than she had ever wept.  In her anguish, she had momentarily forgotten that she was not alone.  The gentle stroke of a thumb beneath her eye had her lifting her head.  She looked at Richter for the first time since her story began.  He did not seem angry or disgusted.  She didn’t know how to take his solemn expression.

Richter answered not with words, but by pulling her closer.  With a tilt of his head, he angled his lips to catch hers.  Though tears continued to roll down her cheeks, her sniveling stopped with his cathartic kiss.

“Shh…” he whispered against her mouth.  “Dry your tears.  His day of reckoning is approaching.  It will be him who faces an eternity of damnation.  I will not permit him the relief of death.”

With one final press of his lips against hers, he pulled away.  His softened look had been replaced with one of pure hatred. 

“For you are not the only one who he damned in that way,” Richter told her.  The tone that was so soothing moments before was now closer to a rumble.  “There is another for whom I seek revenge.”

“Oh, no,” Gwen whispered as her eyes widened in realization.  “I pray someone close to you did not…”

As she tapered off, Richter nodded, leaving her crushed.  She would not wish this fate upon anyone.

“You say you remember me from before,” he said.  “By chance, do you remember a young lady named Annette?”

She shook her head.  “No, you were the only human I saw.”

“Five years ago, she was taken prisoner along with some other women,” Richter began.  “I saved many of them, but I… did not make it to her in time.  She was kept away from the others.  When I managed to find her, she had already been turned.”

Never before had Gwen seen him look so distressed.  His sorrow and anger were so profound, she found herself getting upset on his behalf. 

“Dracula knew she was special to me, and took her for his own.  We were supposed to be wed, and I had to end her life with my own hands.  For that is what I was born to do, rid the world of vampires.”  A bitter half-laugh fell from his lips and he shook his head.  “Alas, my Annette was no exception.  There was no saving her.  The evil had already consumed her.”

Gwendolyna had no words.  Mouth agape, she looked to him in horror, not for what he had done, but because he had to do it.  His own fiancée…  He had lived her greatest fear, ending the life of the one he loved.

“I will make him suffer,” Richter continued through gritted teeth.  “For her, for you, for every victim, and each Belmont whose purpose in life was to bringing an end to him.  He will yearn for the mercy of death.”

She wanted to comfort him, yet felt that nothing she could say or do would ease his pain.  All she could do was apologize to him.

“I’m so sorry…”

When she laid her hand atop his, he raised his eyes to meet hers.  They locked and Richter’s rage visibly began to thin.  Those eyes of his were full of so much grief, yet in the midst, Gwen took note of the dilation of his pupils.  His lips parted, as if he were going to speak.  She waited for his words, but they never came.  Drawing his hand back, he tore his eyes away from hers.

“It has gotten late,” Richter said curtly.  He rose from the bed. 

Gwen’s eyes followed him as he crossed the room and realized he had gotten up to put out the candles.  She placed the book she had been reading off onto the shelf near the bed before lowering the blankets for Richter and crawling under them herself.  Once all the flames had been extinguished, he joined her.  As he settled down, she awaited the feel of his arms possessively wrapped around her, but it never came.  He was not even facing her.

With a sigh, she resigned herself to the fact that it was going to be a long, lonely night.  Though she ached for the comfort of his touch after everything left her feeling so vulnerable, she found she could not blame him after such a heavy conversation.  As he slept, she remained by his side, praying that he would feel better in the morning.