A Broken Song of Anger

[idraax]

warning: noncon Fandom: Castlevania: LOS

He tore into the room and froze. Satan was there, hips moving rapidly, naked and panting. Black, feathered wings flared, shaking with the force of his thrusts. The sounds of grunting pierced his ears and his nose picked up the scent of sex and blood. Then, Satan shifted and he caught a flash of pale, white hair.

He knew.

Fire roared through him, sharp and molten. He lunged, folding in his wings and grabbing Satan by the teeth, biting into his shoulders. Blood spurted from his bite, poured down Satan's back. Feathered wings beat at his face; he ignored them.

His muscles tensed as he crouched low, prepared for flight. Satan clawed at him, nails breaking on his scales. He howled.

"I had him first, Gabriel! His screams were delicious."

He leapt, black wings snapping out as he hit the air. Growled through teeth and skin.

"He was so tight you know. The way he clenched around me was -" Wings beat in the air as he shook his head, sending more blood pouring down Satan's skin. There was a roar in his ears, a pounding underneath his skin and he clenched his teeth tighter. They ripped through muscle and bone, yet Satan didn't stop speaking. The roaring grew louder.

They flew higher and higher, until the air was thin and the rays of the sun reached them. The light tingled on his skin, made his scales glitter red. Satan went quiet, momentarily blinded.

He brought up a talon. Black claws glinted in the light and Satan twisted, wings flapping. He grabbed one with a talon, holding it tight. They stayed like that for a moment; he hovered in place as Satan struggled.

Then, he tightened his grip on the wing and tore.

Satan screamed and jerked in his hold.

The wing came off, blood streaking freely behind it as he let go and it fell to earth. Satan struggled harder, hands and feet kicking at him. His remaining wing folded tight against him as if it would escape Dracul's wrath.

He grabbed it with the bloody talon, ripping it off in a smooth motion. It fell to earth, joining the other one somewhere on the ground. Then, he let Satan go.

The scream was a pleasing song, trailing off as Satan fell further away from him. No, he wasn't done yet.

He angled his wings, twisted until he was facing downwards. Then, he snapped them shut and dove. He caught Satan between his jaws again. Then, there was blood and fire and the red, molten heat of rage drowning it all.

---

He hurt.

Cold air stabbed at his skin as he tried to move. Blood still poured out of him, but it was slowing. The tear in him was healing.

Nausea rose, not enough to make him vomit. A small mercy.

He tried moving again. Pain seared through him, but he pushed it away. He needed to move. He'd had worse. He had died, this was nothing. This was nothing.

Slowly, he pulled himself off the bed. Lighting seared up his spine and he gasped, bending over to hang onto the bed frame as spots ate away at his vision. Nausea swelled again and he gagged on air as he tried to breathe.

The bleeding had stopped now. But, he was covered in blood and something he suspected was semen, though his mind yanked itself away from the thought.

He tightened his grip on the frame, tried to breathe. His thoughts kept spinning. There was screaming coming from somewhere. Pain in his throat as he spat out fluid.

Time broke for a while. Darkness and a sharp, high pitched sound.

It took him a long time to realize that the screaming was from him.

He was on the floor, curled up into a corner. He was bleeding again. No. He wasn't; those were tears.

He gasped, pressed his hands to his eyes and tried to stop. Nothing. More tears.

A shadow flew over him. Large and dark, it blotted out the stars in the open sky. There was a hole in the ceiling, in the walls. His breath hitched, fragmented into sobs.

Thump!

Something large landed outside. He flinched, curled up tighter. More pain. Silence. His own loud breathing.

Then, there were footsteps. They crunched on broken brick and glass, moved towards him.

His clothes were gone. His weapons were gone. He had nothing, couldn't even dredge up the energy to panic. The footsteps came closer. His breath shortened.

They stopped in front of him, a shadow falling across his naked flesh. There was a sharp inhale.

He tried to stay still, but his body betrayed him. The expelled breath turned into another sob.

He flinched violently when a warm, clawed hand touched him. There was a cut off strangled sound from above. Then-

"Trevor"

His father, kneeling in front of him.

He uncurled a little, just enough to look upwards. Blood still dripped from his eyes.

His father's eyes were wide, panic and uncertainty written so clearly on his face. He wasn't supposed to look like that. He was the strong one. Alucard was not.

He reached out a trembling hand, touched his father's face.

"Sorry," he rasped.

His father made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and reached for him, let his hands hover uncertainly over him. He flinched again, drew back.

"I failed you, father," he said, through a shredded throat and saw his father's face crumple.

"No," his father said, quietly. He sounded near tears. "No, you didn't, son. You didn't"

---

Gabriel, and he never felt more like Gabriel than in this moment, felt the sourness of fear flood into him. His rage, still molten hot, was quelled by the fear. What was he supposed to do now?

His son was curled up on the floor, naked. He couldn't touch him; Trevor had flinched when he tried. He was shivering. Vampires weren't supposed to shiver.

He wanted Marie. But, he didn't. It would break her heart to see Trevor like this; it was breaking his.

"Trevor," he said again and his son hesitated.

His shoulders tensed further and Gabriel waited. The rage swelled. He held it back with great effort. Satan was dead, his body ripped to shreds and the pieces scattered, burning as they fell, turning into ash. There was no remnant of Satan save for the wings. The rage wouldn't help him now.

"We need to leave," he said, trying not to let any anger into his tone.

Trevor flinched again, but uncurled to look at him again. He held out his hand, waited.

The darkness above them lightened. Red tints began to appear in the sky, being joined by yellow soon after. He wanted to move, to cover them both. He might not be hurt by sunlight, but Trevor could be.

Eventually, his son moved to grasp his hand. Something fragile in him, that he hadn't even realized was there, fluttered.

He pulled Trevor up, pressed him close. His son shook in his grasp and he kept his grip lose. They needed to leave; the sun was too close.

He let his skin cool and slowly, his son stopped shaking. His head rested against his, a comfortable weight and he tightened his grip on Trevor's shoulders.

"Lets go"

They moved and Trevor slumped further against him. Gabriel considered him for a moment before scooping him up and heading towards the door. He forced himself to ignore the small gasp and the resurgence of the tremors.

"This is quicker," he said, gently. "The sun is rising."

Against his collarbone, Trevor nodded.

As he walked towards the door, he considered. Marie had liked his singing when she was ill, perhaps.....

He hummed and felt Trevor jerk before slumping back against him. He continued humming, felt the tension in his son's body ease and eventually go limp. Only then did he let the blood leak from his eyes.

---

Trevor woke to see his father eyeing him. No, wait. He scrambled back against the headboard, claws tearing holes into the sheets. His father had never looked at him like that, a curious specimen.

"Who are you," he rasped.

Pain rolled through him in sharp waves. The creature in front of him blinked and then opened its mouth and spoke with a multitude of voices.

"Hello, Alucard"

The Castle.

He flinched away from it, pressed himself closer against the headboard. The wood behind him creaked a little. It had creaked then too, when Satan had- No. No. He wasn't thinking about that.

He swallowed. Pain still rolled up his spine although the tearing had healed. His fangs ached and the air felt colder than usual.

"Where is my father," he rasped.

Red eyes blinked at him and a sharp-toothed smile spread across the Castle's face.

"Aww," it cooed. "You miss him already."

Panic swelled. He tugged the sheets closer. He was still naked, he noted with alarm. Carefully, he moved his limbs, checked for injuries.

The Castle watched him the entire time. It didn't move any closer, though its lips settled into a frown.

"We won't hurt you," it hissed. It's tone sounded odd, almost as if it were trying to be friendly. It made him more tense and his eyes slid around the room.

He'd have to move near it to get to the door. His chest burned, wanting breath it didn't need anymore. Something flickered across the Castle's face and it rose. He sucked in a breath, but it moved towards the door instead.

"I'll get the Prince," it said. He blinked at it. Was that sadness in its tone? Its shape broke apart into blood, before he could speak, and it slithered underneath the door.

The room darkened at the corners of his eyes and he clutched the sheets tightly. Breath wasn't necessary anymore, but the act of breathing was comforting.

The castle was silent, except for the faint sounds of the city outside. There was no wind tonight, barely even a moon from what little light he could see through the thick curtains on the opposite end of the room.

Slowly, he relaxed. His claws let go of the sheet and the trembling he hadn't noticed, eased. Then, the door creaked open.

He jumped. The tension settled into his shoulders and phantom pain curled around his spine. Dracul slipped in and at first, he thought it was the Castle again. But, his father had a bemused, worried look on his face and he knew it wasn't.

"Father," he rasped, trying to relax again.

His father closed the door behind him and the gentleness in his eyes sent a bolt of yearning through him. Confused, he stayed still as Gabriel came towards him, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Alucard," his father said.

"Alucard," Satan said as he trailed a hand down his chest. "We're going to have so much fun together."

"Please don't call me that." He got the words out from between gritted teeth. The name felt wrong now, tainted. Satan had taken it, twisted it into something else.

"Trevor, then," Gabriel said, not changing his tone. "It's good to see you awake."

He slid a hand across the sheets and left it lying there between them. Trevor looked at it and felt the yearning swell. He wanted touch, wanted to erase the marks that Satan left on him and something else to replace them. He glanced at the hand then away again.

"Beautiful," Satan murmured as he pinned Trevor's hands with his and licked at his skin. "You taste exquisite."

He narrowed his eyes and pulled himself out of memory. He wouldn't let Satan have him, not again. He reached for his father's hand and tangled their fingers together. Gabriel stilled.

Carefully, he shifted closer until he was leaning against his father. Gabriel's skin was cool as Satan's was not and something settled inside of him. He leaned his head against his father's shoulder and sighed quietly.

Slowly, his father's hands came up and one of them stroked his hair while the other pulled him in closer. Some of the tension flowed out and he relaxed a little, slumping further into the embrace.

"Will he come back," he asked quietly, after a few long moments of silence.

The hand in his hair paused briefly before resuming its stroking. It made him relax further and the constant, phantom pain in his skin dimmed a little.

"He won't," Gabriel said. His tone was gentle, yet there was an underlying fierceness.

The yearning quelled a little and the tension in him continued to ease. He was safe as he could be here. Yet, some part of him was
in that room, still felt Satan's weight on him.

Black feathers covering his eyes. A tearing. Pain. Claws around his wrists.

The memory tried to solidify. The castle wavered around him and he could smell sweat and blood, his own. There were sheets underneath him, coarse. Something pinned him, kept him from moving.

Claws ran lightly over his scalp. A dragon's voice called for him.

"Son, son, come back to me"

Pale blue eyes streaked with red stared into his. Something scaly draped itself over his back, pressed him closer to his father's side. A clawed hand raised his chin and he shuddered slightly.

"He cannot hurt you," the dragon promised, voice low, fierce and protective. "If anyone tries, I will rend them and everything they love apart. I promise you that."

His wings were covering him, Trevor realized. They were large, black and scaly, blocking out the rest of the room completely. He sighed, slumping in his father's grasp and pressing his forehead to his arm. The dragon was shielding him, his power enveloped him ready to strike any who dared harm him. He was safe here. He was safe.