Breathe Life Into Me

Book I: Spark Of Black

"Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!"

-Bram Stoker

A little bit further! Just a bit more-!

He could not will his feet to run fast enough. They pounded against the damp earth in the early morning hours of the third of July. This was to be a most joyous day and it had turned to hell in the blink of an eye. The bundle in his arms felt heavier and heavier with every step he took, but this was not the time to mourn. Not yet, because there was hope. It was a dark, bleak hope, but one none the less. Viridian eyes cast down at the exposed facial features of the horribly discolored infant he carried as he ran. He saw no life in the half-lidded, mirroring green-blue gaze, only his frantic and petrified reflection. Flicking the cloth over the grim sight, the fair haired man's fire surged anew as he ran without abandonment.

Please, little one. Do not leave us. Do not leave me.

Reaching his destination, Dimitri Vulpe, Suceava's local loremaster and librarian, came to a halt in front of impressive wooden doors. Not many would dare tread in the untamed wilds that made up the Moldavian forests. Dimitri, however, had become well acquainted with the stoic man that lived alone in this wilderness. A pale man that never seemed to be touched by age in the ten years since he first saw his face. They had connected through the bonds of limitless knowledge, and Dimitri was a right fool for any that sought to further their education. This man in particular had a strange taste for celestial insight, which at first struck an odd chord in Dimitri, but now, in his greatest time of need, Dimitri would gladly fall at this man's knees. Through the years, Dimitri had come to terms with the fact that Dracul Umbră, in all his eccentricity, was not entirely man's flesh and blood. There was a darker presence that lingered about him and it's damning ubiquity chased many of the other villagers away, but Dimitri was steadfast in his assumption that the pallid man, mortal or no, simply wanted to be left to his own devices and as a fellow scholar, he could respect the man's penchant for solitude.

Lacking his normal grace and formality, Dimitri pounded on the planes that made up the entrance to the seemingly abandoned castle.

"Please, Sir Dracul," The blond howled up at the stone citadel. "Tell me you are awake! I require your assistance! Please, please!" He did not have to wait long for the latch to click and the door to groan as it drifted opened. Illuminated only by pale moonlight, stood Dracul. His crimson eyes found Dimitri immediately and his languid smile did nothing to comfort the panicked man at his doorstep.

"Good evening, Master Archivist." Dracul's smooth baritone greeted. "It is a beautiful night for a walk. Did you come to inquire about some company?" It was a jest, clearly, but Dimitri ignored this and instead handed him the small cluster of blankets. His faced clearly anguished, Dracul only raised an obsidian eyebrow in question. Deftly shifting the weight into one hand, Dracul removed the top layer of cloth. His eyes narrowed at the sight and moved to the man who was now doubled over in exertion in front of him.

"You came to deliver unto me a dead suckling?" Came the unperturbed query. At the stoic response, Dimitri jolted back to a standing position as he took in the dark enigma that stood before him. The man who now held his first born daughter in one hand as if she were a Crăciunul roast duck. Dimitri made his morose known, but squared his shoulders and claimed Dracul's gaze as he spoke.

"Please, Sir Dracul," Dimitri began. "There must be something you can do for her."

"She?" Dracul echoed. Bringing his other hand up, he drug his index finger down the cool bridge of the infant's nose and promptly inserted it into the babe's mouth. He was unsurprisingly met with the icy wetness within.

"You daughter is dead, Dimitri." Dracul spoke plainly, removing his finger. This was it. Dimitri was to lay down all his cards.

"Dracul." Dimitri spoke, dropping the courteous title he always used. "Strigoi mort," He said, loosing a fraction of his brazenness. "There must be something you can do for her." Dimitri reiterated. And with his final sentence, sealed the fate of his beloved daughter forever.

"I will pay any price."

The grin that broke across Dracul's face was sadistic and perverse. Crimson eyes glinted in fiendish delight as he began to chuckle.

"Of course, my friend. Where are my manners?" Dracul moved back, pulling the door to his manor open wider. "Please, Dimitri. Come inside."

Way past the time of hesitation, Dimitri moved to follow the inhuman being, the thick chamber doors starling him as they closed. He clamored behind Dracul. As they walked down the hallways, the candelabras sparked and illuminated their path with a soft glow. Dracul hummed softly the tune of 'Cantigas de Santa Maria' which hauntingly reverberated off the walls, giving Dimitri the eerie illusion that multiple voices harmonized with his undead host. Dimitri shook his head to clear his thoughts. The two men stopped before a large dining table, Dracul resting the infant gently on the wide surface. Dracul then proceeded to flick all the shreds of fabric aside, barring the child to the chill of his home. Dimitri paled and swallowed loudly at the sight. His beloved daughter had gone blue in pallor, nearing black at the hands and feet as uncirculated blood pooled. Her chest was concave with breaths she never took. Thin, spidery veins of midnight blue branched out on the small expanse of her body. Pale, blond hair that matched his own seemed dull and brittle. Dimitri could not stifle the moan of penitency that followed. Dracul's unfeeling gaze drug from the lifeless child to the anguished man at his left and back. Dracul stroked the small patch of dark hair on his chin in thought for a moment, before turning away.

"Wait here a moment." Dracul requested. Dimitri then watched as his host disappeared through the wall. He could have fainted right there. This was all amounting to be an overwhelming day that he wasn't sure he could handle any longer. Dimitri pulled back a sturdy oak chair that screeched in protest to sit before his late daughter. Then he cried.

"To lose you," Dimitri started to the empty room, "would be losing myself. I patiently waited nine months to hold you close. I will not bury you!" He cried out, the heartache flooding the dining chamber.

"How very trite of you, dear Dimitri." Dracul replied, materializing beside Dimitri. Dracul set down a glass jar that seemed to contain ground pebbles and fresh earth. Beside that he laid down an ornate dagger. The last thing he laid down was stone, about the size of his fist, the startling color of canary yellow. The ageless being then trained his crimson gaze on his woeful guest.

"Shall we proceed?" Dracul asked, raising a brow.

"Yes," Dimitri stuttered, standing. "I am ready." Dracul's eyes crinkled as he smirked town at the studious man.

"At your command."

Dracul was quiet for a moment, staring down at the remains of the child. He then reached for the jar, opened it, and grabbed a handful of the moist soil.

"Forgive me, Dracul." Dimitri timidly interrupted, "but is that dirt?" Clearly irritated by the instant interruption, Dracul huffed and lifted his eyes to glower at Dimitri

"Yes," Dracul told him, moving to continue his work. "The soil of my homeland. It is so her spirit can come back to rest here without qualms." Dimitri furrowed his brows, clearly more confused by the explanation. Dracul rubbed his palms together, the earth between them sprinkling evenly over the front of the babe. With gentle dexterity, Dracul then rolled the infant on her front to repeat the dusting of earth on her back. When he returned the child to the supine position, he benevolently roved his hands across the offspring's torso and limbs. The flecks of terrain began to absorb into the babes skin, giving the child a healthy coating of freckles. Dimitri watched in awe.

Next order of business came as Dracul picked up the baroque blade. He didn't flinch as he dug the sharpened point into his index finger. The ruby red liquid mounted at the peak of his finger. Dracul gave a cursory lick to prevent the excess from dripping. He laughed at the sickened face Dimitri gave at the action.

"Waste not, want not." Dracul said with a chortle. He brought his finger down to the babe's chest and across her sternum began to draw a Leviathan's Cross. Dracul's blood was slick against her skin, and much like the soil, her skin drank in the immortal's gore. The sigil remained mostly intact, fading to a blush pink. With a soft caress, Dracul removed a smudge of blood from the child's rib with a swipe of his thumb. He brought the thumb and forefinger to his mouth, licking away the excess blood.

"It looks like a scar." Dimitri whispered, eyes unable to peel from his child. Dracul hummed in agreement.

"It will stay with her like a scar," Dracul acknowledged, admiring his work so far. "Until the end of her days."

Dracul moved to the final stage. He reached for the fragile, yellow stone, holding it gently in two hands above the infant. Dimitri watched in abject horror as the stone in Dracul's hand caught fire and burn an electrifying shade of blue. With bated breath, Dimitri then witnessed as the stone began to melt and nearly screamed as the molten substance dripped through Dracul's fingers. The crackling of his daughter's skin as the smelted element made contact was enough. Dimitri wretched in a bin used for holding walking canes. He couldn't tell if it was the sound of the flesh burning or the smell , but Dimitri was clearly exceeding his limit.

Dracul crinkled his nose in disgust as the man at his back emptied his stomach on his various pikestaffs. The Faust Fire continued to burn away the brimstone in Dracul's hand. The molten sulfur hit its mark, and the sigil he had drawn soaked in the element. The skin of the stamp became raised like a true scar. The stone continued to melt until her little body was sodden, and Dracul smiled as her chest held a haunting red glow of hellfire within.

"We are almost complete." Dracul commented idly, picking up the jeweled dirk again. Dimitri hesitated to stand, staring apprehensively at Dracul's back.

"What will you require in return for bringing her back to me?" Dimitri inquired, stammering. Dracul rolled his eyes and turned to Dimitri, dagger in hand. In doing so, the unobstructed view of his daughter had Dimitri retching again. Her chest was alight with a scarlet glow, lighting up all of her internal organs and highlighting the veins that ran across her lithe body. It was morbid.

"Now you ask?" Dracul countered, seemingly amused, though no smile touched his lips. "It is simple, really. I will give you a time with her, say sixteen years?"

"And then?" Dimitri wavered as he asked. Dracul scoffed as if it were obvious.

"And then, you shall return her to me." He turned his body back toward the child and lifted one of her blackened hands. Dimitri blanched at Dracul's declaration. Quickly nicking the sides of her index finger, Dracul took the infant's digit to his mouth to get a taste of her body and soul. It was a rush of ecstasy for him, for there is no blood more purified than that of newborn. He had to quickly rein himself in. With her blood in his mouth, he bit down onto his own tongue, mixing them together. He could instantaneously feel the pull of her spirit, her soul, around him.

"There is only one thing left to do," Dracul commented, eyes trained on the lifeless gaze of the infant. "Say you agree to my terms. Swear it."

As if Dimitri had a choice. It was sixteen years with his daughter or none. Perhaps she would come to understand.

"I accept your terms."

"Wonderful."

Dracul wasted no more time. He bent down, covering her mouth and nose with his own and breathed life into her. It shattered the sphere of hellfire within her chest, sending heat to her extremities. It immediately banished the sickly pallor from her skin, giving it a healthy glow. He followed it with a steady second breath, this time allowing the blood mixture to flow into her mouth, absorbing under her tongue. A noticeable weight sunk into Dracul's chest and he closed his eyes shut as a ruthless glee overtook him. With the third and final breath, he willed the soul back into the young suckling's body and at last she gasped for air against him. Pulling back, Dracul smiled down sinfully at the child. Her hair had gone a fiery copper with the transformation. The strigoi watched in wicked fascination and the youngling took in greedy breaths, eyes pinched shut. Dracul rand his hand through the now russet locks.

"Open your eyes, my sweet." Dracul murmured. And she did. But the were not the dull viridian he had seen before.

Her eyes now embodied the canary yellow that was the hellish element of brimstone. Her breathing steadied and youngling gazed up at Dracul in wonder, not weeping. Dracul threw his head back and laughed. Madness temporarily consuming him.

Dimitri however, was stunned into silence. Watching the whole exchange from the side, Dimitri was frozen in fear. The spectacle Dracul had put on had metaphysically aged Dimitri twenty years. Dracul was really a demon of some sort. Was his daughter now tainted? Was that even his daughter anymore? He really should have inquired further instead of rushing in here fool hardy and allowing this devil to work his dark magic on his only child.

On the other side of the coin, his daughter was alive. She is alive!

Dracul had calmed during Dimitri's internal struggle. He flexed both of his hands before tenderly lifting the infant. He cradled her in his left arm, allowing his right hand to wipe away the blood the over lap of his own mouth had left.

"Welcome back, little one." Dracul whispered oddly fond. His thumb moving to stroke the raised flesh of the Leviathan's Cross in an almost possessive manor. Two, small hand grabbed at his larger one and he chuckled. Turning to Dimitri, he presented the infant to him.

"Your daughter."

Dimitri was hesitant, but as soon as his hands came in contact with the warm flesh, he became greedy.

"My little girl, my baby!" He cried joyous, hugging the small body against his chest. "I love you, I love you." Dimitri murmured softly bouncing from one foot to the other.

"Antanasia."

"What?" Dimitri halted in his rhythmic steps.

"Her name is Antanasia." Dracul said firmly, looking only at the child. Dimitri looked to the babe in his arms and found her looking almost longingly at Dracul in return. Who was Dimitri to argue with the man who pull his girl from the dead?

"Antanasia, it is." He tested, his daughter looked to him then. Her dandelion stare unnerving. "It is fitting."

"Thank you, Sir Dracul." Dimitri said after a while of silence.

"Of course." He said noncommittally, looking away from the child. The sun was beginning to rise, and Dracul was tired. A pang in his stomach caused him to look over at Dimitri, at Antanasia. "She hungers. Return to your wife, Dimitri." Dimitri looked shocked at the admission. His child had yet to cry.

"Right away, sir." He agreed, "Thank you." Dimitri said again. He bundled Antanasia back in the swaddling cloths and made to leave. Before reaching the entrance, however, he heard Dracul call to him.

"Please bring Antanasia to visit often." Dimitri found he could not deny the beast that revived his daughter.

"Of course."

Looking down at his daughter, now in the sunlight, he realized how different she looked from him and his wife now. How would he make he wife understand? Dimitri sighed and began to make his was back to his home. However, he was quickly realizing that the father he walked towards home, away from Dracul, Antanasia began to whimper more and more. And once he was planted outside the door to his home? Antanasia began to wail.

What have I done?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Okay, That was the intro chapter to 'Breathe Life Into Me' which is a trilogy! Woooo! So book one is pre-Hellsing, Book two is during Hellsing, and book three is post-Hellsing. This will include elements from Hellsing and Hellsing Ultimate getting very AU at book three cause I really like to make people happy damnit. I know I am procrastination 'When The Day Met The Night' if you are also reading that story, but I absolutely cannot help myself as I have had the outline fore this story done for months. It will resume regular updates as well, and there is also a Yu Yu Hakusho fic in the works.

This story is M for EVERYTHING. Gore, Violence, Language, Adult Themes, Torture, you know, all the fun stuff. I will do my best to have trigger warnings at unbearable parts, but its ALUCARD we are talking about here. He is vicious, perverse, and SADISTIC AF. I own nothing except for OC's you don't recognize.

Thanks much! -Grey