Trinity Blood Long FIC: All I Wish Is to Dream Again Part I
Title: All I Wish Is To Dream Again
Pairing: Abel x Esther
Rating: PG-15-ish (some violence up ahead)
Summary: Abel and Esther are on the trail of those mysterious werewolves and they happen upon the legend of an ancient vampire Prince who bears more than just a passing resemblance to our favorite Crusnik priest. Latest in the Milk Tea series. COMPLETE.
The three earlier stories in this series are:
Milk Tea & Thirteen Sugars
Beautiful Disaster
They Think That They Can See Flowers
These can all be found on my FF.Net site:
Darth Stitch's Fics On The Site That Must Not Be Named
Because of the size of the fic, I've cut it into two parts. So Part II will be found in my next LJ entry. Link will be given below. X-posted to trinityblood and trinity_fanfic.
All I Wish Is To Dream Again
A Trinity Blood Fan Fiction
by Darth Stitch
DISCLAIMER: Trinity Blood was created by Yoshida Sunao (R.I.P.) and is now an anime directed by Tomohiro Hirata and produced by the studio GONZO. I’m just a poor schmuck who wanted to see more romance amongst the all the high adventure, action and intrigue. Again, although this is not a songfic, the title is taken from the song “Nemo” by the band Nightwish. I was inspired by that video I spotted on YouTube - “Mark of My Sins” by Dr. Raven productions. Check it out - it’s pretty cool, actually.
The Revenants and their concept is actually all mine. This is what I get when I realize I have Massive Plot on my hands and I realize that my original fictional universe can actually seamlessly merge with Trinity Blood.
AUTHOR’S WARNINGS/NOTES: Again, for those new to the anime/manga series, Trinity Blood is set in a post-apocalyptic world where the Roman Catholic Church/the Vatican is portrayed as a military power as well as a spiritual one. The series also strongly implies major and controversial changes in the Church, such as women being bishops and cardinals as well as romantic relationships and quite possibly marriage between members of the clergy. If this disturbs you, do not read any further.
To my male officemates/readers who’re reading this - er, don’t worry, there WILL be blood and gore ahead, just bear with us ladies as we like our romantic schmoop, okay? XP
DEDICATION: Aside from my wonderful officemates, this story is also dedicated to you all you great reviewers out there, especially to Arallion, who just put up the latest chapter of her wonderful Trinity Blood story “In the Name of Power” - check it out, it’s on FF Dot Net - and inspired me to get a move on with the Massive Plot in my own story. This is also dedicated to Perhelediel (Lauren), who drew a wonderful piece of fan art for Beautiful Disaster - wheeeeee! Check it out here:
Fan Art For Beautiful Disaster
************************************************************
Oh how I wish for soothing rain,
All I wish is to dream again,
My loving heart lost in the dark
For hope I`d give my everything
Oh how I wish for soothing rain,
Oh how I wish to dream again…
- “Nemo” by Nightwish
Abel Nightroad was most assuredly not jealous of Ion Fortuna.
Puppy love - that was all it was, really and it was rather good for the young, proud Count of Memphis to completely forget his dignity for the moment as he and Esther talked animatedly together, catching up on things as they whiled away the hours on this long train ride. How could he blame Ion for having that worshipful, adoring expression for Esther when Abel knew perfectly well that he probably had that look on his face as well?
Abel fervently hoped he wasn’t too obvious about it as Ion was though.
And it was hard not to like the young Imperial nobleman and it wasn’t because he was one of the best and the brightest in the New Human Empire, with one of the purest and strongest Methuselah bloodlines. Ion was technically an adult, albeit young by Methuselah standards but he still looked like a young boy, if a rather beautiful one (which annoyed Ion to no end), between 13-15 years old.
It was easy to like Ion simply because he was, for all his pride and occasional blustering, basically kind, good-hearted and honorable and in his own way, still an innocent about the world, despite suffering betrayal and near-death at the hands of the man he’d called his best friend and brother in all but blood. And if Abel was perfectly honest with himself, he knew quite well that the real reason he was feeling…er… “not-exactly-jealous” was because Ion did not carry the weight of sin and regret that Abel did. Ion was, in a sense, “untainted” and even if Methuselah-Terran relationships were frowned upon, there was a tiny part of Abel that thought Ion would be a far better match for Esther than he ever could be.
Ion was very much like Esther, in fact, which probably explained why they got on so well together.
Esther herself put it rather better: “He’s awfully sweet, rather like you, Abel.”
Okay, so Abel did not melt inside at her comment.
Oh Lord, she had him wrapped around her tiny fingers and well she knew it.
Abel ruefully remembered that last scene in Caterina’s office when they’d gone to her for the debriefing after the incident with the werewolves in the Colosseum. The lady Cardinal had taken one look at them as soon as they walked through her door and then exclaimed:
“Well, it was about bloody damn time!”
Abel knew perfectly well that it was useless to hide things from his dearest friend and so he simply settled for saying plaintively, “Are we that obvious?”
He was really rather curious because really, it wasn’t as if the two of them had walked in there exchanging lovestruck syrupy glances and holding hands, for Heaven’s sake. And Esther couldn’t say a word for once; she was too busy blushing and giggling behind her hands.
Caterina had lifted an eyebrow ironically and answered, “I rather commend you both on your discretion but might I ask what is your hair ribbon doing wrapped around Sister Esther’s wrist?”
Abel’s hand automatically went to his long silver hair and sure enough, it was still hanging loosely down his back, still slightly damp from his bath. He’d completely forgotten about that!
He leveled a mock-glare at the little red-haired nun and said in his best stern tones, “Sister Esther!”
Dark blue eyes blinked innocently up at him. “Yes, Father Nightroad?”
“May I please have my ribbon back? I did keep my word to you about that tea, didn’t I?”
Esther made a show of thinking about it. “Why yes, you did. I had a very nice time, in fact.”
Abel held out his hand to her. “My hair ribbon?”
She pouted. “But I like it when you have your hair down.”
“Eh?!”
Caterina snorted. “Apparently you two are a match made in heaven, God help us all. Now if we could all get down to business…?”
Esther began to relate the events in the Colosseum as Abel tied his hair back up. He spoke only to add or augment what she was saying and he did not like the way Caterina’s eyes grew graver as they continued their story.
“So they have finally come here,” Caterina said thoughtfully.
“You’re starting to make me very nervous,” Abel remarked. “You already know about this?”
The lady Cardinal took up a file from her desk and began to look through it. “I was looking for you before you both had your little run-in with those werewolves. Sister Kate has just given me several reports about werewolf attacks on both Terrans and Methuselahs here in our part of Europe and I’ve also received intelligence of the same thing happening in the New Human Empire. This arrived from the Empress today.”
“Seth-chan!” exclaimed Esther.
Caterina smiled. “Her Imperial Majesty sends her fondest regards to you, Sister Esther and to her and I quote, ‘dear sweet silly older brother Abel.’”
Abel sighed. He was aware that his youngest sister missed him and made a mental note to himself to contact her as soon as possible.
Caterina handed the file to Esther for both of them to look at and so Abel had stood up, adjusting his spectacles so he could read over Esther’s shoulder.
“As you can see,” Caterina continued. “We’ve both tracked all this activity even as far away as Drakovia and it is suspected that this may be the source of all of this.”
“Or a good place to start,” Esther remarked. “Drakovia’s quite close to Transylvania and that’s almost ironic, considering what role Transylvania plays in ‘vampire’ literature and folklore.”
“Oh Lord, I do hope we’re not going to traipse about in Dracula’s castle, waking the vampire from his coffin,” Abel sighed.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have backup,” Caterina said dryly. “This will be a joint mission with the Empire and Her Imperial Majesty will be sending Ion Fortuna, Count of Memphis and Astharoshe Asran, the Duchess of Kiev to work with us. I will also be sending Gunslinger with you. You will all be going to Drakovia to investigate this matter.”
“Oh, it will be good to see Ion and Lady Astha again,” said Esther happily.
“Ion?” Abel looked at her quizzically, knowing quite well that Esther, ever polite, insisted on using the proper titles and only ever made that exception for a very few people which included his sister Seth, which had scandalized most of the Imperial court.
Esther shrugged. “He insisted and he said Seth-chan wouldn’t let me call her ‘Empress’ anyway so who was he to not follow the example of his Empress?”
“Ah.” Abel wasn’t sure what he wanted to think about that and he really did not feel the first unpleasant prickling of jealousy at that point. No, really.
“Speaking of Her Imperial Majesty Empress Augusta Vradica, she did make a rather interesting announcement at her court,” Caterina said, her eyes sparkling with barely-suppressed mirth. “I understand that she’s rather caused quite a stir among her nobles.”
“What has Seth done now?” Abel asked, feeling a deep sense of foreboding.
“She has announced to the Imperial Court that she is pleased to welcome home her dear brother, His Imperial Highness Prince Artorius Elric Vradica.”
Abel fell over, landing precisely at Esther’s feet. “Eh?!”
“Does that mean I have to call you ‘Your Imperial Highness’ now?” Esther teased, looking down at his prone form.
“Eh?!” Abel knew he should say something, anything, at this point but he just couldn’t find the words. What was it about the women in his life who took all such a delight in rendering him incoherent? God help him if Caterina, Esther and Seth all took it into their heads to band together - he was probably not going to survive that most unholy coalition of his best friend, beloved and sister!
He was so going to get Seth for this. What the hell was she thinking?!
“In a more private message, our little Empress has informed me that she hasn’t said anything about her dear brother being just a simple priest currently living in the Vatican but she thought that mentioning his existence would discourage any of her other ‘children’ with imperial ambitions. Although he may be required to come to the Empire at some point and…er… be ‘introduced’ to the Court in some fashion,” Caterina said, shaking her head. “If she can figure out something that wouldn’t let you get caught between Rome and Byzantium, I don’t see why you shouldn’t pay your sister a visit later on. She must miss you dearly.”
“I’m still going to get her for this,” Abel growled, leaning up on his elbows.
“I’m just curious about the name she chose for you,” Esther said. “Artorius Elric?”
“Seth is terribly addicted to high fantasy and romantic literature,” Abel sweatdropped. “Not to mention a flair for the theatrical.”
“She is your sister after all,” Esther reminded him, helping him get to his feet. “And I seem to remember you hamming it up with the best of them several times when we were there.”
“Hey! I really thought I was dying at that point! Who knew food poisoning could be so life-threatening!” Abel protested. And in the back of his mind, he could hear Professor Wordsworth in his role as Abel’s Father Confessor cackling evilly.
“You’re absolutely hopeless, do you know that?” Esther said in exasperation.
“Ahem,” Caterina cleared her throat. “You two lovebirds might like to get ready for that journey instead of billing and cooing in my office? Some of us aren’t so lucky…”
They had left her office with severe blushes that probably matched the color of the good Cardinal’s robes.
********************************************************
Transylvania was called the “Land Beyond The Forest” with good reason and it was fortunate that it had escaped the ravages of Armageddon mostly unscathed. It still mostly looked as it might have done to a nineteenth-century Victorian gentleman solicitor - a wild, untamed country of mountains and lush forests, where wild wolves still hunted and where the legends of vampires as terrifying creatures of the night still thrived.
Of course, the two Methuselahs with them weren’t too happy about the suspicious looks they were getting from the local Terrans, from the moment they’d all met each other at the train station and during the entire journey. An old woman on the train passed them by, looked suspiciously at Ion and Astharoshe, made the sign against the evil eye and muttered something about “dracul.” Abel silently admitted that it was slightly gratifying to see the old lady do a double take when she saw the two priests and the nun sitting with them.
And at that the Duchess of Kiev had glared at her old partner and said:
“The first person to make Dracula jokes, tovarishch, I will make very sorry!”
Abel held up his hands in a warding off gesture. “Eh?! I’m not saying anything Miss Astha! What about you, Tres? Help me out here…” He looked beseechingly at his android AX partner, who was sitting across from them, next to Esther and Ion.
“My programming does not include the ability to engage in jest, Father Nightroad,” Father Tres Iquus returned. He cocked his head thoughtfully to the side. “Although I am capable of understanding their concern as the historical Dracula has been said to have performed atrocities that would lead the superstitious to conclude he is a vampire…”
“Ridiculous notion - like I would demean myself by tearing into these Terrans’ throats. And their blood is too thin anyways! Bah!” Astharoshe huffed.
Abel sweatdropped. “Miss Astha, I don’t think they heard that thing about you biting people’s necks all the way in Istvan…”
“They also have tales about a legendary ‘vampire’ prince in Drakovia, you know,” Ion volunteered, wincing over the use of the word “vampire” which no self-respecting Methuselah would ever use to refer to themselves.
“Really? Do tell,” Esther asked.
“Well,” Ion said, smiling sweetly at her. “He wasn’t anything like Vlad Dracula though - the stories portray him as good, noble and heroic.”
“Prince Charming with fangs, eh?” Abel remarked.
“You could say that, Father Nightroad,” the blond-haired Count answered. “It was said that he came under a terrible curse in order to save his people and thus, used his vampiric powers to protect and defend Drakovia. They name him the Lord of Winter, the Black Dragon and Drakovia’s ancient name is said to be Dragons’ Lair.”
“But how did the story end?” Esther asked.
Ion shook his head. “That part of the legend has been lost to the ages, I’m afraid. But there was a princess in that story so perhaps, in the end, he married her and lived happily ever after.” Again, Ion gave her that sweet smile, with that soft, tender look in those rather unusual cinnamon-colored eyes.
“Ah… the young ones are rather sweet together, aren’t they, tovarishch?” Astharoshe murmured, patting his shoulder.
“Er… I suppose,” Abel mumbled, suppressing the urge to bare his own fangs, grab Esther and snarl Mine! at the young Count.
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. He had to stop being so silly, for Heaven’s sake. If Esther found out, she was going to kill him…
Astharoshe was staring at him oddly, almost as if she could figure out what he was thinking…uh-oh. Abel pushed his spectacles up over the bridge of his nose and gave her his best innocent look.
And then, the Duchess of Kiev smirked at him and then suddenly smacked him on the shoulder which made Abel fall out of his seat. She muttered something in Romanian about fools in love. Abel pretended not to understand that, just as he did the last time she’d muttered uncomplimentary Romanian phrases about his supposed lack of intelligence.
“Father Nightroad!” Esther exclaimed as Abel fell over.
“Status report, Father Nightroad,” Tres asked, catching him just in the nick of time. The android’s eyes gleamed with that faint red light that was the only warning most people got if he was about to go into “Gunslinger” mode.
“Eheheh… I’m okay, Father Tres,” Abel said sheepishly. “Miss Astha doesn’t know her own strength, that’s all.”
“You’re too skinny, is what you are, tovarishch,” Astharoshe said jovially, patting him on the shoulders and chest. “Which is strange considering that you are such a bottomless pit when it comes to food…”
“Hey!”
Ion snickered. “Isn’t gluttony one of the capital sins, Father?”
Astharoshe slung an arm over Abel’s shoulder - she was being awfully clingy for some reason which made every last alarm bell go off in Abel’s head. “What our dear innocent Father Nightroad needs is the love of a good woman, I think!” She pinched his cheek. “That would put some meat on these bones! Eh?”
“ACK!” What the hell was Astharoshe doing?
And then, Abel happened to glance at Esther, who was watching him with narrowed eyes and he was suddenly sure that he was quite doomed.
****************************************
It was Abel’s turn to get the odd looks from people when they had finally arrived in Drakovia. He wasn’t sure why a simple traveling Vatican priest would elicit such a reaction - surely priests were a common sight in this little country, which was known to be staunchly Catholic or Orthodox. In any case, religious iconography and crucifixes were a common sight wherever they looked.
Abel was acutely aware of the startled glances and the whispers and he gave Astharoshe a quizzical glance, wondering if there was some sort of cultural thing going on that he wasn’t aware of.
“Don’t look at me, tovarishch,” she said, shrugging. “I’m rather glad that Ion and I aren’t the center of attention anymore.”
They arrived at the Steward’s Palace where they were met by Marik Radivoi, the Steward of Drakovia himself. This was the title given to the little country’s Head of State, as the throne of its royal Prince had been empty for more than two thousand years. The Steward was a distinguished-looking man in his fifties, with dark hair shot through with silver strands and bright gray eyes. He too had also been taken aback when he first met Abel.
“Forgive me, Father, your appearance… it’s rather startling,” said the Steward Radivoi, regarding him with an expression that was somewhere between awe and reverence.
Abel blinked owlishly behind his spectacles. “Eh?!” Honestly, it wasn’t as if he’d suddenly walked in there in his Crusnik form, glaring red eyes, wings, fangs and all.
Esther sighed. “Honestly, is that all you have to say for yourself, Father Nightroad?”
“I would like to say that I’m very confused and would appreciate it if someone would give an explanation for all this,” Abel said plaintively.
“I think you will all understand it better if I show you,” said the Steward. And he led them all to the large portrait that hung in the Great Hall of the Steward’s palace.
“Good Lord,” Abel murmured, as they all stood before the portrait.
It was the painting of a handsome young man with long silvery hair, dressed in rich robes of black and gold. Bright, laughing green eyes regarded them, even as both his hands rested casually on the pommel of a great broadsword that oddly enough, had a pure black blade. The artist had captured his likeness so skillfully that it seemed almost as if the young man in the portrait could just step out from the frame and welcome them.
He also looked exactly like Abel, even more than Abel’s twin brother Cain did, ironically enough, all except for those bright green eyes.
“This is our Prince - Kyrys Ivan Alexander Alyardi, the Lord of Winter, the Black Dragon of Drakovia. Our legends say that he has never died and that he only lies sleeping, to return in our hour of greatest need. Which is why I and those before me have ruled as Steward, not prince, for the last two thousand years,” said Radivoi with reverence and pride.
“The resemblance to Father Nightroad is remarkable,” Tres commented.
“Amazing,” whispered Esther.
“So you must forgive our astonishment, Father Nightroad. It’s almost as if we are watching a legend come to life before our very eyes,” the Steward said, looking at him carefully.
“The legendary Prince of Drakovia,” murmured Ion and gave Abel an odd, speculative look.
“I’m not a prince,” Abel muttered, intensely uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on him. It was uncanny how the Prince looked like him but there was something else in those green eyes that seemed oddly familiar. He shot a telling look at Esther and glanced at the two Imperial Methuselah noblemen meaningfully. Seth had never announced their kinship in front of Ion and Astharoshe, during that time he and Esther had escorted Ion back to the Empire and helped to foil that assassination attempt on Seth. However, it was probably quite clear to the two Imperial nobles that Seth and Abel knew each other, especially since the two of them had taken the opportunity for long talks together, having a great deal of catching up to do before Abel and Esther finally had to return to Rome.
Seth had wanted Abel to stay with her, to help her rule her Empire, but it wasn’t a life Abel knew he would be able to lead, as much as he did love his sister. And he was still going to have a very long discussion with her about that whole business of declaring him as an Imperial prince, of all things…
“Perhaps your ancestors were this prince’s descendants, eh, tovarishch?” Astharoshe said thoughtfully. “Royalty in disguise… sounds like the very best of fairy tales!”
“I highly doubt it,” said Abel wryly. All of the Crusniks - Lilith, Abel and his siblings - were test tube babies, created in laboratories by scientists with delusions of godhood in them. It was more the stuff of science fiction than fairy tales.
The Duchess of Kiev again casually slung an arm over his shoulders and plucked his glasses off his nose. “Oh, don’t be so modest. If you would only get rid of these ridiculous spectacles and that silly ponytail, you’d even make a passably handsome specimen of the male species, one I would find most attractive, even if you are a Terran. A very fitting Prince Charming, eh, Ion?”
Ion sweatdropped - he wasn’t too sure of what was going on either and what his fellow Imperial noble was up to.
“Eh?!” Abel’s eyes bugged out, feeling just as lost as Ion was at the moment. And Tres, of course, was no help at all, merely regarding the humans with a quizzical expression that meant he was just processing and storing everything with his perfect android’s memory.
Esther simply glared at them both and grabbed Ion’s hand, asking the Steward if he could tell them more legends about the Prince. The Steward was only too happy to lead them to his library. Ion was startled but was evidently pleased to be dragged along in her wake.
Abel wasn’t sure what he’d done to offend his beloved but he quickly disentangled himself from the Duchess of Kiev, took back his spectacles and hurried to catch up with them.
“Lady Astharoshe,” Tres spoke then. “I require an explanation as to why you are treating Father Nightroad with such familiarity. It seems that your actions are causing Sister Esther great distress.”
Astharoshe smirked. “Am I?”
“My programming parameters include seeing to the well-being of my colleagues,” Tres said flatly.
“Don’t worry about it, Father Tin Man,” Astharoshe said cheerfully. “I am merely amusing myself on this mission of ours and I swear to you that your comrades will come to no harm. My word on it.”
“Acceptable.”
*************************************************
It was during that discussion in the library that the Steward briefed them about the werewolf activity in Drakovia. They were already aware that the werewolves claimed to serve an entity or a person they called “The Mother” and were apparently driven to destroy both Terran and Methuselah, bringing about an apocalypse that would cleanse the very earth from the so-called “abominations.” What they did not know was that the werewolves also claimed to be in the service of the Lord of Winter, the long-lost Prince Alyardi and were preparing for his return.
Drakovia was rich in supernatural and magical traditions and the Steward said that the werewolves and their legend had existed even before the Armageddon and so was not connected in the least to the later wars between the Methuselahs and Terrans. But it was only in these times that the werewolves had finally come out in the open.
The werewolves had last been seen lurking in the ruins of the ancient Alyardi Castle, high up in the mountains. The Steward had promised that he would send a guide with them to that area tomorrow.
In the meantime, Abel found that he was quite unable to sleep and found himself alone in the Great Hall, staring up at the Prince’s portrait once more. To the Drakovians, this man was not a legend and had, in fact, been so well-loved that his memory had endured for more than two thousand years.
Abel couldn’t help but wonder about the flesh-and-blood person this Prince who bore his face had been. The green eyes that stared back at him were hardly the eyes of an “accursed vampire” but were kind and gentle.
And suddenly, it hit Abel. The Prince’s eyes were Seth’s eyes, full of warmth and good humor.
“Who are you?” Abel whispered and thought that perhaps he would actually receive an answer…
A soft step behind him made Abel look around, only to see Esther clad in her nightgown and dressing robe. She twitched nervously, almost guiltily, when she saw him.
Now what was that all about?
“Couldn’t sleep?” Abel asked her gently.
“Too many things to think about, I suppose,” Esther answered. She gave him a wan smile. “Fairy tales and accursed princes… they’ll all probably end up in my dreams tonight!”
“As long as you’re well rested for tomorrow…” Abel said, trailing off. He felt awkward around her suddenly and wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.
“It’s amazing how much he looks like you,” Esther murmured, looking up at the portrait and then at him, obviously comparing the two of them.
“Miss Astha is probably not going to let me live this whole prince business down!” He said with a rueful laugh.
Somehow, mentioning her name was a mistake as Esther drew back and not-quite-pouted. “Lady Astha cares about you a great deal, doesn’t she?”
“She is my friend - it’s just her way of showing that she cares, I think,” Abel said carefully, realizing he was treading across a verbal minefield right at that moment and not quite sure why that was so.
At that, Esther sighed. “Goodnight, Father Nightroad. I’m off for bed.”
She looked so downcast and Abel didn’t really know what was going on but he couldn’t let her walk away like that. He took a step towards her. “Esther, love, what is it?”
And at that, she was suddenly in his arms, having buried her face in the front of his robes. “I’m sorry, Abel. I’m being very, very silly, aren’t I?”
He nuzzled into the soft red strands of her hair, an almost instinctive reaction. “I thought I was supposed to be the silly one here.”
She giggled, a rueful little sound and looked up at him. “I think I’m allowed to be silly too. At least once a year would be enough.”
And at that, Abel finally figured out exactly what was going on and quite cheerfully swept Esther up for a kiss. Esther made a delightful little squeak but was otherwise quite content to kiss him back, her hands caressing the back of his neck and tangling into his hair, letting it loose from its ponytail.
“My Prince,” she said, a little breathlessly, her cheeks flushed and looking quite delightfully dizzy.
“Yours,” he agreed contentedly, his lips shaping the word against her own mouth before he kissed her again.
**************************************************
Part II/Conclusion
Pairing: Abel x Esther
Rating: PG-15-ish (some violence up ahead)
Summary: Abel and Esther are on the trail of those mysterious werewolves and they happen upon the legend of an ancient vampire Prince who bears more than just a passing resemblance to our favorite Crusnik priest. Latest in the Milk Tea series. COMPLETE.
The three earlier stories in this series are:
Milk Tea & Thirteen Sugars
Beautiful Disaster
They Think That They Can See Flowers
These can all be found on my FF.Net site:
Darth Stitch's Fics On The Site That Must Not Be Named
Because of the size of the fic, I've cut it into two parts. So Part II will be found in my next LJ entry. Link will be given below. X-posted to trinityblood and trinity_fanfic.
All I Wish Is To Dream Again
A Trinity Blood Fan Fiction
by Darth Stitch
DISCLAIMER: Trinity Blood was created by Yoshida Sunao (R.I.P.) and is now an anime directed by Tomohiro Hirata and produced by the studio GONZO. I’m just a poor schmuck who wanted to see more romance amongst the all the high adventure, action and intrigue. Again, although this is not a songfic, the title is taken from the song “Nemo” by the band Nightwish. I was inspired by that video I spotted on YouTube - “Mark of My Sins” by Dr. Raven productions. Check it out - it’s pretty cool, actually.
The Revenants and their concept is actually all mine. This is what I get when I realize I have Massive Plot on my hands and I realize that my original fictional universe can actually seamlessly merge with Trinity Blood.
AUTHOR’S WARNINGS/NOTES: Again, for those new to the anime/manga series, Trinity Blood is set in a post-apocalyptic world where the Roman Catholic Church/the Vatican is portrayed as a military power as well as a spiritual one. The series also strongly implies major and controversial changes in the Church, such as women being bishops and cardinals as well as romantic relationships and quite possibly marriage between members of the clergy. If this disturbs you, do not read any further.
To my male officemates/readers who’re reading this - er, don’t worry, there WILL be blood and gore ahead, just bear with us ladies as we like our romantic schmoop, okay? XP
DEDICATION: Aside from my wonderful officemates, this story is also dedicated to you all you great reviewers out there, especially to Arallion, who just put up the latest chapter of her wonderful Trinity Blood story “In the Name of Power” - check it out, it’s on FF Dot Net - and inspired me to get a move on with the Massive Plot in my own story. This is also dedicated to Perhelediel (Lauren), who drew a wonderful piece of fan art for Beautiful Disaster - wheeeeee! Check it out here:
Fan Art For Beautiful Disaster
************************************************************
Oh how I wish for soothing rain,
All I wish is to dream again,
My loving heart lost in the dark
For hope I`d give my everything
Oh how I wish for soothing rain,
Oh how I wish to dream again…
- “Nemo” by Nightwish
Abel Nightroad was most assuredly not jealous of Ion Fortuna.
Puppy love - that was all it was, really and it was rather good for the young, proud Count of Memphis to completely forget his dignity for the moment as he and Esther talked animatedly together, catching up on things as they whiled away the hours on this long train ride. How could he blame Ion for having that worshipful, adoring expression for Esther when Abel knew perfectly well that he probably had that look on his face as well?
Abel fervently hoped he wasn’t too obvious about it as Ion was though.
And it was hard not to like the young Imperial nobleman and it wasn’t because he was one of the best and the brightest in the New Human Empire, with one of the purest and strongest Methuselah bloodlines. Ion was technically an adult, albeit young by Methuselah standards but he still looked like a young boy, if a rather beautiful one (which annoyed Ion to no end), between 13-15 years old.
It was easy to like Ion simply because he was, for all his pride and occasional blustering, basically kind, good-hearted and honorable and in his own way, still an innocent about the world, despite suffering betrayal and near-death at the hands of the man he’d called his best friend and brother in all but blood. And if Abel was perfectly honest with himself, he knew quite well that the real reason he was feeling…er… “not-exactly-jealous” was because Ion did not carry the weight of sin and regret that Abel did. Ion was, in a sense, “untainted” and even if Methuselah-Terran relationships were frowned upon, there was a tiny part of Abel that thought Ion would be a far better match for Esther than he ever could be.
Ion was very much like Esther, in fact, which probably explained why they got on so well together.
Esther herself put it rather better: “He’s awfully sweet, rather like you, Abel.”
Okay, so Abel did not melt inside at her comment.
Oh Lord, she had him wrapped around her tiny fingers and well she knew it.
Abel ruefully remembered that last scene in Caterina’s office when they’d gone to her for the debriefing after the incident with the werewolves in the Colosseum. The lady Cardinal had taken one look at them as soon as they walked through her door and then exclaimed:
“Well, it was about bloody damn time!”
Abel knew perfectly well that it was useless to hide things from his dearest friend and so he simply settled for saying plaintively, “Are we that obvious?”
He was really rather curious because really, it wasn’t as if the two of them had walked in there exchanging lovestruck syrupy glances and holding hands, for Heaven’s sake. And Esther couldn’t say a word for once; she was too busy blushing and giggling behind her hands.
Caterina had lifted an eyebrow ironically and answered, “I rather commend you both on your discretion but might I ask what is your hair ribbon doing wrapped around Sister Esther’s wrist?”
Abel’s hand automatically went to his long silver hair and sure enough, it was still hanging loosely down his back, still slightly damp from his bath. He’d completely forgotten about that!
He leveled a mock-glare at the little red-haired nun and said in his best stern tones, “Sister Esther!”
Dark blue eyes blinked innocently up at him. “Yes, Father Nightroad?”
“May I please have my ribbon back? I did keep my word to you about that tea, didn’t I?”
Esther made a show of thinking about it. “Why yes, you did. I had a very nice time, in fact.”
Abel held out his hand to her. “My hair ribbon?”
She pouted. “But I like it when you have your hair down.”
“Eh?!”
Caterina snorted. “Apparently you two are a match made in heaven, God help us all. Now if we could all get down to business…?”
Esther began to relate the events in the Colosseum as Abel tied his hair back up. He spoke only to add or augment what she was saying and he did not like the way Caterina’s eyes grew graver as they continued their story.
“So they have finally come here,” Caterina said thoughtfully.
“You’re starting to make me very nervous,” Abel remarked. “You already know about this?”
The lady Cardinal took up a file from her desk and began to look through it. “I was looking for you before you both had your little run-in with those werewolves. Sister Kate has just given me several reports about werewolf attacks on both Terrans and Methuselahs here in our part of Europe and I’ve also received intelligence of the same thing happening in the New Human Empire. This arrived from the Empress today.”
“Seth-chan!” exclaimed Esther.
Caterina smiled. “Her Imperial Majesty sends her fondest regards to you, Sister Esther and to her and I quote, ‘dear sweet silly older brother Abel.’”
Abel sighed. He was aware that his youngest sister missed him and made a mental note to himself to contact her as soon as possible.
Caterina handed the file to Esther for both of them to look at and so Abel had stood up, adjusting his spectacles so he could read over Esther’s shoulder.
“As you can see,” Caterina continued. “We’ve both tracked all this activity even as far away as Drakovia and it is suspected that this may be the source of all of this.”
“Or a good place to start,” Esther remarked. “Drakovia’s quite close to Transylvania and that’s almost ironic, considering what role Transylvania plays in ‘vampire’ literature and folklore.”
“Oh Lord, I do hope we’re not going to traipse about in Dracula’s castle, waking the vampire from his coffin,” Abel sighed.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have backup,” Caterina said dryly. “This will be a joint mission with the Empire and Her Imperial Majesty will be sending Ion Fortuna, Count of Memphis and Astharoshe Asran, the Duchess of Kiev to work with us. I will also be sending Gunslinger with you. You will all be going to Drakovia to investigate this matter.”
“Oh, it will be good to see Ion and Lady Astha again,” said Esther happily.
“Ion?” Abel looked at her quizzically, knowing quite well that Esther, ever polite, insisted on using the proper titles and only ever made that exception for a very few people which included his sister Seth, which had scandalized most of the Imperial court.
Esther shrugged. “He insisted and he said Seth-chan wouldn’t let me call her ‘Empress’ anyway so who was he to not follow the example of his Empress?”
“Ah.” Abel wasn’t sure what he wanted to think about that and he really did not feel the first unpleasant prickling of jealousy at that point. No, really.
“Speaking of Her Imperial Majesty Empress Augusta Vradica, she did make a rather interesting announcement at her court,” Caterina said, her eyes sparkling with barely-suppressed mirth. “I understand that she’s rather caused quite a stir among her nobles.”
“What has Seth done now?” Abel asked, feeling a deep sense of foreboding.
“She has announced to the Imperial Court that she is pleased to welcome home her dear brother, His Imperial Highness Prince Artorius Elric Vradica.”
Abel fell over, landing precisely at Esther’s feet. “Eh?!”
“Does that mean I have to call you ‘Your Imperial Highness’ now?” Esther teased, looking down at his prone form.
“Eh?!” Abel knew he should say something, anything, at this point but he just couldn’t find the words. What was it about the women in his life who took all such a delight in rendering him incoherent? God help him if Caterina, Esther and Seth all took it into their heads to band together - he was probably not going to survive that most unholy coalition of his best friend, beloved and sister!
He was so going to get Seth for this. What the hell was she thinking?!
“In a more private message, our little Empress has informed me that she hasn’t said anything about her dear brother being just a simple priest currently living in the Vatican but she thought that mentioning his existence would discourage any of her other ‘children’ with imperial ambitions. Although he may be required to come to the Empire at some point and…er… be ‘introduced’ to the Court in some fashion,” Caterina said, shaking her head. “If she can figure out something that wouldn’t let you get caught between Rome and Byzantium, I don’t see why you shouldn’t pay your sister a visit later on. She must miss you dearly.”
“I’m still going to get her for this,” Abel growled, leaning up on his elbows.
“I’m just curious about the name she chose for you,” Esther said. “Artorius Elric?”
“Seth is terribly addicted to high fantasy and romantic literature,” Abel sweatdropped. “Not to mention a flair for the theatrical.”
“She is your sister after all,” Esther reminded him, helping him get to his feet. “And I seem to remember you hamming it up with the best of them several times when we were there.”
“Hey! I really thought I was dying at that point! Who knew food poisoning could be so life-threatening!” Abel protested. And in the back of his mind, he could hear Professor Wordsworth in his role as Abel’s Father Confessor cackling evilly.
“You’re absolutely hopeless, do you know that?” Esther said in exasperation.
“Ahem,” Caterina cleared her throat. “You two lovebirds might like to get ready for that journey instead of billing and cooing in my office? Some of us aren’t so lucky…”
They had left her office with severe blushes that probably matched the color of the good Cardinal’s robes.
********************************************************
Transylvania was called the “Land Beyond The Forest” with good reason and it was fortunate that it had escaped the ravages of Armageddon mostly unscathed. It still mostly looked as it might have done to a nineteenth-century Victorian gentleman solicitor - a wild, untamed country of mountains and lush forests, where wild wolves still hunted and where the legends of vampires as terrifying creatures of the night still thrived.
Of course, the two Methuselahs with them weren’t too happy about the suspicious looks they were getting from the local Terrans, from the moment they’d all met each other at the train station and during the entire journey. An old woman on the train passed them by, looked suspiciously at Ion and Astharoshe, made the sign against the evil eye and muttered something about “dracul.” Abel silently admitted that it was slightly gratifying to see the old lady do a double take when she saw the two priests and the nun sitting with them.
And at that the Duchess of Kiev had glared at her old partner and said:
“The first person to make Dracula jokes, tovarishch, I will make very sorry!”
Abel held up his hands in a warding off gesture. “Eh?! I’m not saying anything Miss Astha! What about you, Tres? Help me out here…” He looked beseechingly at his android AX partner, who was sitting across from them, next to Esther and Ion.
“My programming does not include the ability to engage in jest, Father Nightroad,” Father Tres Iquus returned. He cocked his head thoughtfully to the side. “Although I am capable of understanding their concern as the historical Dracula has been said to have performed atrocities that would lead the superstitious to conclude he is a vampire…”
“Ridiculous notion - like I would demean myself by tearing into these Terrans’ throats. And their blood is too thin anyways! Bah!” Astharoshe huffed.
Abel sweatdropped. “Miss Astha, I don’t think they heard that thing about you biting people’s necks all the way in Istvan…”
“They also have tales about a legendary ‘vampire’ prince in Drakovia, you know,” Ion volunteered, wincing over the use of the word “vampire” which no self-respecting Methuselah would ever use to refer to themselves.
“Really? Do tell,” Esther asked.
“Well,” Ion said, smiling sweetly at her. “He wasn’t anything like Vlad Dracula though - the stories portray him as good, noble and heroic.”
“Prince Charming with fangs, eh?” Abel remarked.
“You could say that, Father Nightroad,” the blond-haired Count answered. “It was said that he came under a terrible curse in order to save his people and thus, used his vampiric powers to protect and defend Drakovia. They name him the Lord of Winter, the Black Dragon and Drakovia’s ancient name is said to be Dragons’ Lair.”
“But how did the story end?” Esther asked.
Ion shook his head. “That part of the legend has been lost to the ages, I’m afraid. But there was a princess in that story so perhaps, in the end, he married her and lived happily ever after.” Again, Ion gave her that sweet smile, with that soft, tender look in those rather unusual cinnamon-colored eyes.
“Ah… the young ones are rather sweet together, aren’t they, tovarishch?” Astharoshe murmured, patting his shoulder.
“Er… I suppose,” Abel mumbled, suppressing the urge to bare his own fangs, grab Esther and snarl Mine! at the young Count.
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. He had to stop being so silly, for Heaven’s sake. If Esther found out, she was going to kill him…
Astharoshe was staring at him oddly, almost as if she could figure out what he was thinking…uh-oh. Abel pushed his spectacles up over the bridge of his nose and gave her his best innocent look.
And then, the Duchess of Kiev smirked at him and then suddenly smacked him on the shoulder which made Abel fall out of his seat. She muttered something in Romanian about fools in love. Abel pretended not to understand that, just as he did the last time she’d muttered uncomplimentary Romanian phrases about his supposed lack of intelligence.
“Father Nightroad!” Esther exclaimed as Abel fell over.
“Status report, Father Nightroad,” Tres asked, catching him just in the nick of time. The android’s eyes gleamed with that faint red light that was the only warning most people got if he was about to go into “Gunslinger” mode.
“Eheheh… I’m okay, Father Tres,” Abel said sheepishly. “Miss Astha doesn’t know her own strength, that’s all.”
“You’re too skinny, is what you are, tovarishch,” Astharoshe said jovially, patting him on the shoulders and chest. “Which is strange considering that you are such a bottomless pit when it comes to food…”
“Hey!”
Ion snickered. “Isn’t gluttony one of the capital sins, Father?”
Astharoshe slung an arm over Abel’s shoulder - she was being awfully clingy for some reason which made every last alarm bell go off in Abel’s head. “What our dear innocent Father Nightroad needs is the love of a good woman, I think!” She pinched his cheek. “That would put some meat on these bones! Eh?”
“ACK!” What the hell was Astharoshe doing?
And then, Abel happened to glance at Esther, who was watching him with narrowed eyes and he was suddenly sure that he was quite doomed.
****************************************
It was Abel’s turn to get the odd looks from people when they had finally arrived in Drakovia. He wasn’t sure why a simple traveling Vatican priest would elicit such a reaction - surely priests were a common sight in this little country, which was known to be staunchly Catholic or Orthodox. In any case, religious iconography and crucifixes were a common sight wherever they looked.
Abel was acutely aware of the startled glances and the whispers and he gave Astharoshe a quizzical glance, wondering if there was some sort of cultural thing going on that he wasn’t aware of.
“Don’t look at me, tovarishch,” she said, shrugging. “I’m rather glad that Ion and I aren’t the center of attention anymore.”
They arrived at the Steward’s Palace where they were met by Marik Radivoi, the Steward of Drakovia himself. This was the title given to the little country’s Head of State, as the throne of its royal Prince had been empty for more than two thousand years. The Steward was a distinguished-looking man in his fifties, with dark hair shot through with silver strands and bright gray eyes. He too had also been taken aback when he first met Abel.
“Forgive me, Father, your appearance… it’s rather startling,” said the Steward Radivoi, regarding him with an expression that was somewhere between awe and reverence.
Abel blinked owlishly behind his spectacles. “Eh?!” Honestly, it wasn’t as if he’d suddenly walked in there in his Crusnik form, glaring red eyes, wings, fangs and all.
Esther sighed. “Honestly, is that all you have to say for yourself, Father Nightroad?”
“I would like to say that I’m very confused and would appreciate it if someone would give an explanation for all this,” Abel said plaintively.
“I think you will all understand it better if I show you,” said the Steward. And he led them all to the large portrait that hung in the Great Hall of the Steward’s palace.
“Good Lord,” Abel murmured, as they all stood before the portrait.
It was the painting of a handsome young man with long silvery hair, dressed in rich robes of black and gold. Bright, laughing green eyes regarded them, even as both his hands rested casually on the pommel of a great broadsword that oddly enough, had a pure black blade. The artist had captured his likeness so skillfully that it seemed almost as if the young man in the portrait could just step out from the frame and welcome them.
He also looked exactly like Abel, even more than Abel’s twin brother Cain did, ironically enough, all except for those bright green eyes.
“This is our Prince - Kyrys Ivan Alexander Alyardi, the Lord of Winter, the Black Dragon of Drakovia. Our legends say that he has never died and that he only lies sleeping, to return in our hour of greatest need. Which is why I and those before me have ruled as Steward, not prince, for the last two thousand years,” said Radivoi with reverence and pride.
“The resemblance to Father Nightroad is remarkable,” Tres commented.
“Amazing,” whispered Esther.
“So you must forgive our astonishment, Father Nightroad. It’s almost as if we are watching a legend come to life before our very eyes,” the Steward said, looking at him carefully.
“The legendary Prince of Drakovia,” murmured Ion and gave Abel an odd, speculative look.
“I’m not a prince,” Abel muttered, intensely uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on him. It was uncanny how the Prince looked like him but there was something else in those green eyes that seemed oddly familiar. He shot a telling look at Esther and glanced at the two Imperial Methuselah noblemen meaningfully. Seth had never announced their kinship in front of Ion and Astharoshe, during that time he and Esther had escorted Ion back to the Empire and helped to foil that assassination attempt on Seth. However, it was probably quite clear to the two Imperial nobles that Seth and Abel knew each other, especially since the two of them had taken the opportunity for long talks together, having a great deal of catching up to do before Abel and Esther finally had to return to Rome.
Seth had wanted Abel to stay with her, to help her rule her Empire, but it wasn’t a life Abel knew he would be able to lead, as much as he did love his sister. And he was still going to have a very long discussion with her about that whole business of declaring him as an Imperial prince, of all things…
“Perhaps your ancestors were this prince’s descendants, eh, tovarishch?” Astharoshe said thoughtfully. “Royalty in disguise… sounds like the very best of fairy tales!”
“I highly doubt it,” said Abel wryly. All of the Crusniks - Lilith, Abel and his siblings - were test tube babies, created in laboratories by scientists with delusions of godhood in them. It was more the stuff of science fiction than fairy tales.
The Duchess of Kiev again casually slung an arm over his shoulders and plucked his glasses off his nose. “Oh, don’t be so modest. If you would only get rid of these ridiculous spectacles and that silly ponytail, you’d even make a passably handsome specimen of the male species, one I would find most attractive, even if you are a Terran. A very fitting Prince Charming, eh, Ion?”
Ion sweatdropped - he wasn’t too sure of what was going on either and what his fellow Imperial noble was up to.
“Eh?!” Abel’s eyes bugged out, feeling just as lost as Ion was at the moment. And Tres, of course, was no help at all, merely regarding the humans with a quizzical expression that meant he was just processing and storing everything with his perfect android’s memory.
Esther simply glared at them both and grabbed Ion’s hand, asking the Steward if he could tell them more legends about the Prince. The Steward was only too happy to lead them to his library. Ion was startled but was evidently pleased to be dragged along in her wake.
Abel wasn’t sure what he’d done to offend his beloved but he quickly disentangled himself from the Duchess of Kiev, took back his spectacles and hurried to catch up with them.
“Lady Astharoshe,” Tres spoke then. “I require an explanation as to why you are treating Father Nightroad with such familiarity. It seems that your actions are causing Sister Esther great distress.”
Astharoshe smirked. “Am I?”
“My programming parameters include seeing to the well-being of my colleagues,” Tres said flatly.
“Don’t worry about it, Father Tin Man,” Astharoshe said cheerfully. “I am merely amusing myself on this mission of ours and I swear to you that your comrades will come to no harm. My word on it.”
“Acceptable.”
*************************************************
It was during that discussion in the library that the Steward briefed them about the werewolf activity in Drakovia. They were already aware that the werewolves claimed to serve an entity or a person they called “The Mother” and were apparently driven to destroy both Terran and Methuselah, bringing about an apocalypse that would cleanse the very earth from the so-called “abominations.” What they did not know was that the werewolves also claimed to be in the service of the Lord of Winter, the long-lost Prince Alyardi and were preparing for his return.
Drakovia was rich in supernatural and magical traditions and the Steward said that the werewolves and their legend had existed even before the Armageddon and so was not connected in the least to the later wars between the Methuselahs and Terrans. But it was only in these times that the werewolves had finally come out in the open.
The werewolves had last been seen lurking in the ruins of the ancient Alyardi Castle, high up in the mountains. The Steward had promised that he would send a guide with them to that area tomorrow.
In the meantime, Abel found that he was quite unable to sleep and found himself alone in the Great Hall, staring up at the Prince’s portrait once more. To the Drakovians, this man was not a legend and had, in fact, been so well-loved that his memory had endured for more than two thousand years.
Abel couldn’t help but wonder about the flesh-and-blood person this Prince who bore his face had been. The green eyes that stared back at him were hardly the eyes of an “accursed vampire” but were kind and gentle.
And suddenly, it hit Abel. The Prince’s eyes were Seth’s eyes, full of warmth and good humor.
“Who are you?” Abel whispered and thought that perhaps he would actually receive an answer…
A soft step behind him made Abel look around, only to see Esther clad in her nightgown and dressing robe. She twitched nervously, almost guiltily, when she saw him.
Now what was that all about?
“Couldn’t sleep?” Abel asked her gently.
“Too many things to think about, I suppose,” Esther answered. She gave him a wan smile. “Fairy tales and accursed princes… they’ll all probably end up in my dreams tonight!”
“As long as you’re well rested for tomorrow…” Abel said, trailing off. He felt awkward around her suddenly and wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.
“It’s amazing how much he looks like you,” Esther murmured, looking up at the portrait and then at him, obviously comparing the two of them.
“Miss Astha is probably not going to let me live this whole prince business down!” He said with a rueful laugh.
Somehow, mentioning her name was a mistake as Esther drew back and not-quite-pouted. “Lady Astha cares about you a great deal, doesn’t she?”
“She is my friend - it’s just her way of showing that she cares, I think,” Abel said carefully, realizing he was treading across a verbal minefield right at that moment and not quite sure why that was so.
At that, Esther sighed. “Goodnight, Father Nightroad. I’m off for bed.”
She looked so downcast and Abel didn’t really know what was going on but he couldn’t let her walk away like that. He took a step towards her. “Esther, love, what is it?”
And at that, she was suddenly in his arms, having buried her face in the front of his robes. “I’m sorry, Abel. I’m being very, very silly, aren’t I?”
He nuzzled into the soft red strands of her hair, an almost instinctive reaction. “I thought I was supposed to be the silly one here.”
She giggled, a rueful little sound and looked up at him. “I think I’m allowed to be silly too. At least once a year would be enough.”
And at that, Abel finally figured out exactly what was going on and quite cheerfully swept Esther up for a kiss. Esther made a delightful little squeak but was otherwise quite content to kiss him back, her hands caressing the back of his neck and tangling into his hair, letting it loose from its ponytail.
“My Prince,” she said, a little breathlessly, her cheeks flushed and looking quite delightfully dizzy.
“Yours,” he agreed contentedly, his lips shaping the word against her own mouth before he kissed her again.
**************************************************
Part II/Conclusion