Phoenix Phyre

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.

Beta: Alex

Pairing: Alucard, Abraham

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Angst

Summary: One of my many daydreams of Dracula's capture

Warnings: Violence

Author's note: My first post here. This is a ficlette I've worked on for nearly a year. I hope you all enjoy. The word in the title, phyre, is an English toying with the word Fire. In English 'PH' makes the 'F' sound, and 'Y' sometimes makes the 'I' sound. So in English, Phyre is read as Fire.


How many men of the world viewed retreat as cowardice? It was some part of manhood in many cultures, that if one ever turned his back on a fight then he was a coward, less than human. Perhaps it was why those men rarely lived so long, charging blindly into a fight they would surely lose, all for the sake of manhood. These were also the same individuals that believed that to fight with one's head was fighting 'dirty.'

Dracula had always viewed retreat as a tactic, not an act of fright. Never had he viewed himself as a coward, though the enemy long shouted the word at him as he ordered his armies to flee into ground he deemed more worthy and to his advantage for battle. However, never had he faced an enemy that knew these tactics, and used their minds as a weapon as this human, Abraham Van Helsing, had done. The vampire's attempt to flee England for his mountain home was successful. He had hoped to recuperate there then return more fully prepared to face hunters in other countries. But Abraham had followed him. The human did not wish to give him time to breathe and gather himself. Dracula had then rethought his plan, hoping to lead this hunter and his little band into his own territory and thus crush him.

But Abraham was a clever man. He had stopped his pursuit at the village, and there turned the low life humans, his food, against him. It was not as if they were allied with him to begin with, but the village and the vampire had always lived in something of a harmony. Some sort of strange covenant in which Dracula would protect them, and they would be his food source by offering him those that were unwanted in their society such as deformed children and criminals. And then there was always the fools that wandered the forest after the sun fell, or those that dared band against him.

Now Abraham had them on his side, rallied them against him and thus made the area very dangerous for the vampire. Fires burned all through the forest where bands of men hunted the wolves, shooting them then burning the bodies. Dracula stood within his castle fortress, watching from a tower window as his children howled their pain and dismay. The packs scattered through the mountains. He let them go. This area was lost, it was time to retreat again and gather his forces once more.

He had set everything aflame. Moving slowly through what was once his home, Dracula carried a torch, laying it against the curtains, furniture, anything and everything that would burn. The damned hunters had tracked him this far, backed him into a corner and he expected them to come this night or next daybreak. The vampire had decided to make quite sure that they would find nothing but ash. Working his way from the bottom up, Dracula made sure nothing would be left for them to scrap or salvage. Nothing would be left from his life here but the skeletal remains of the castle itself, for stone would not burn.

Once the deed was complete, the vampire turned away from the fire, leaping from the nearest window and floating upon the air like a specter. And indeed, according to Abraham he was a figment of the past. A relic of ancient evils. Gritting his teeth against these blasphemous thoughts, Dracula watched his old home burn.

There would be nothing to hold him to this place, he had wanted to leave this life behind in any case. Tired as he was of the life in the rural mountains, where superstition and supernatural ruled human lives. The people from these places knew how to combat him, knew to hang garlic at their windows and doors, to plant wolfsbane around their houses and carry crosses with them everywhere. But the humans who lived in so called 'civilization' did not know these things, or if they did, mocked them. They thought to believe in such silly things as ghosts, vampires, werewolves and other such beasts was for young children or those who lived in the mountains away from their cities. And so Dracula had hoped to bring his kind into those very cities, to teach man to once again fear the dark, and of course, for an easy meal, for he could drink nightly in those cities and never have a worry.

His cape fluttered around him upon the wind. Dracula twisted upon the air almost as if he were swimming, turning to see horses galloping through the trees. Surely Abraham could not convince the villagers to blindly attack a vampire in the dead of night. His people were no such fools.

The growing flames burned his eyes with it's light, and so Dracula bid his old home a final farewell, riding the air back from the castle and concealing himself in the smoke. Darkness was his element, and the vampire king felt sure he could slip away and leave Abraham scratching his head. Even Dracula did not know where he would end up, but there were other cities besides England. Wherever man gathered in quantity, the old ways were forgotten.

Dracula felt himself freed, felt he had escaped the tracking of the hunter Abraham and his dogs. He let himself slowly levitate toward the ground, knowing the trees and shadows would hide his escape as the smoke rose toward the sky. The roar of the fire and shouts of men around him as they hunted his wolves thrummed through his ears. And so he was not aware of the hunters closing in, nor did he hear the snap of a crossbow and the whistle of the bolt as it cut through the air, and then through his flesh.

His howl of pain joined those of his wolves, though his was far more inhuman than even that of the animals. The tip of the bolt felt as if it had fanned out inside of him, like some sort of grappling hook. Dracula turned, his ruby eyes bright with fury as they settled upon the steadfast blue of his sworn enemy, Abraham Helsing. The bolt tugged at his back when he moved, and only then did Dracula see the thin, but sturdy cable that led from him to the man who's innards he wished to decorate among the trees.

Is it ever a wise choice to hold the leash of a wild beast? There is nothing to prevent it from biting the hand that holds it, the rope only prevents it from fleeing, not fighting.

Dracula's look of anger twisted into one of smug glee. For holding that cable, Abraham could not hope to avoid him. The vampire king crouched, kicking off from the ground to leap at Abraham as another bolt whistled from the darkness to strike him in the side. The force threw him off his target, and Abraham was quick enough to dance to the side.

The vampire snarled, the new bolt having fanned open around his ribs, making sure it had a strong hold. Having had tunnel vision for only Abraham, and his mind only on killing the human, Dracula had missed the other hunters. Gathering himself to his feet, the vampire looked around, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits as he watched the three other humans come into view. Quincy had a firm hold on the second cable, moving slowly, sidestepping so he would stand across from Abraham and Dracula would be unable to lunge at either of them.

The vampire stood, black cape flowing around him as his eyes moved from one hunter to the other.

“You are catched, Vampire King,” Abraham's accented voice bellowed through the night. “Lie back and be still. We will end your life quickly, demon.”

“Such arrogant talk from a human with his new toy,” Dracula growled, reaching up to grip one of the cables.

Abraham's eyes narrowed as he saw the vampire draw up, and lifted his free hand, a pistol held easily in it's grasp.

“You will not escape this night, Count,” Helsing's hiss penetrated the air just before the sharp retort of the pistol echoed from the trees.

Dracula staggered back, Quincy keeping hold of his end of the cable, backing up to brace it around a tree as Abraham did the same. Leaving his post to one of his fellows, Abraham approached the quivering form of the monster. Dracula gritted his teeth, feeling strength and power flowing from him at a startling rate.

“Silver,” the vampire groaned, clutching at his chest with one hand as his eyes leveled upon Abraham.

“This is the power of the mighty vampire king, a demon even among the vampires themselves? You will die on these frozen grounds where even your homeland will reject you. On the morrow eve, you will not wake to take another life. Your dust will mix with the grime and dirt of this land forever. These will become a tainted woods, a price to buy your death.”

Abraham slipped a hand to his waist, pulling free a shining silver sword, it's sharpened blade catching the moonlight and reflecting it onto the vampire's face.

Dracula growled, a wheezing sound, as he struggled to stay upright, the silver bullet buried in his body bleeding his will to a husk.

With a forced laugh, the vampire staggered a final time, falling to his knees before Abraham. “You think you win? I will return from any death. Celebrate your night, but spend the rest of your lives looking over your shoulders, wondering when I'll return, wondering if the death near you is my cause. I will curse you with my dieing breath, Helsing. You will live in plague and fear!”

Abraham slowly lowered the sword, placing the point at the vampire's chest. “I think not, demon. No, you cannot be so easily killed now. But I will find a way. In the mean time, you will learn to repent for your crimes.” He arched his arm back, slashing Dracula across the throat and spraying the snow with blood.

Dracula choked, one hand lifting to press against the wound as he swayed, falling onto his side to be pillowed in stained snow.

“Ready the coffin, Jonathan,” Abraham called across the clearing. “He will be returning with us, and never know this life again.”

@темы: Short Story, Hellsing, Dracula, Abraham/Alucard, Abraham

2010-06-24 в 01:23 

Sorry I missed church. I was busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a homosexual
Schingiuire Wow! :hlop:
I was very busy and tired today so I had to force myself to start reading, but once I started I couldn't stop. It's really good, cause it's written exactly in the way I like it. Like a real story, not like fiction. I think I should read it again tomorrow and give a adequate review.

2010-06-24 в 02:01 

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.
What do you mean like a real story and not a fiction? I am curious to your definition of the difference.

2010-06-24 в 08:18 

Sorry I missed church. I was busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a homosexual
Schingiuire I mean authors often deacribe characters and their behavior as if a story takes place not in our world but somewhre else. Everybody is exeptionally brave and honest, Alucard doesn't look like vampire at all , more like a human child, Abraham behaves like a girl with PMS, Integra is like lecherous bitch. I don't know...I'm just a little bit angry, I've read too much of bad fiction.
So much that I became very kinky to see vampire behaves like vampire and humans behave like humans.

2010-06-24 в 09:20 

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.
Dafna536 I just have high standards for my own work I guess.

2010-07-01 в 22:29 

И не жалко вам бедного гоподаря? Постоянно его убивают, уничтожают, чем то протыкают, да и еще и содомиечку придумали прости Господи... И не стыдно? Ведь это был весьма сильный деятель того времени, Бог один ведает сколько он убил бусурман дабы спасти христианский мир.
Don't you feel sorry for poor prince? He is allways being killed, destroyed, pierced, raped...Don't you feel shame? He was a very significant statesman for his time, and God knows how many infidels he killed to save christian word?
(Moderator's note -Sorry, too many slang words, can't translate in the right way)

2010-07-02 в 07:30 

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.
Гость No, I do not feel shame. I admire the true life Dracula. I have done much research on him, the true man. The vampire in my stories is a fanfiction of various story writings of him. So no, I do not feel shame. I enjoy it, relish it. For that is who I am. I am a writer, which makes me a god in my stories. I can do anything I want, make anyone I want to do what I want. Write your own stories and you can do the same. While my fiction interpretation of the good Prince is not the man you speak of, he is a false character. I can beat him down, and bring him back up as many times as I wish, and people love me for it. Does that make me more of a devil than a god? Probably, but I am a happy devil

Нет, ни капельки не стыдно. Я восхищаюсь историческим Дракулой и прочла очень много информации о нем. Вампир в моих рассказах - это собирательный образб составленный из моих впечатлений после чтения множества различных историй о нем. Так что нет, не стыдно. Мне это нравится. Это мой способ самовыражения. Я - писатель, в мире, созданном моими произведениями я - Бог и творец. Я могу делать что угодно, заставить кого угодно делать то, что мне хочется. Попробуйте написать свою историю, и вы поймете, что я имею ввиду. До тех пор пока в фанфикшене Дракула не похож на исторического себя, он всего лишь вымышленный персонаж. Я могу убивать и воскрешать его столько раз, сколько захочу, и мои поклонники любят меня за это. Быть может в этом смысле я больше похожа на дьявола, нежели на Бога. Ну что ж, возможно, но в таком случае я - счастливый дьявол.

2010-07-02 в 22:44 

Ну дай то Бог ежель на добро идет дело ваше. А как же мораль? Присутствует она тут? Ить оно ж как водится, вроде и добро дело творишь, а оно боком выворачивается.

Ok. So what about morality part of your stories? Do they have it?

2010-07-02 в 22:52 

Sorry I missed church. I was busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a homosexual
Гость Ты бы еще на украинском писал >_< Я все понимаю, но как мне это переводить? Тебе действительно интересно услышать ответы, или это так, просто поспорить?

Гость You could as well use Ukrainian >_< I understand the words, but how should I translate it? Do you really want to hear the answers to your question or you are just eager to dispute?

2010-07-02 в 23:38 

Dafna536 Да интересно. Ну как переводить... так и переводи. Вроде ж по русски написано:))))

Dafna536 Yes. I'm really curious. How to translate? Just transte the way it is. Seems it's in russian.

2010-07-03 в 06:53 

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.
Гость No, there is no morality in my stories. Why should there be? These are meant to be entertaining to me and to those who have the same fetishes. These are not designed to be lesson teaching children's cartoons.

2010-07-03 в 22:39 

Мастер трансфиругации (C).
The story is very graphic and vivid. I’ve got the impression that despite of his pride Dracula begins to acknowledge Abraham’s superiority even before the capture. And the idea of phoenix, fire and rebirth is nicely inwoven in the text.
Phyre also reminds of “pyre”, an allusion reflected in Daphna’s translation.
But… Sorry, it’s kinda personal association but the soaring of Dracula reminded me of that by Voldemort in the last “Harry Potter” book. Couldn’t stop myself from giggling :).
— — —

История очень сочная и яркая. У меня сложилось впечатление, что, несмотря на свою гордость, Дракула начинает признавать авторитет Абрахама ещё до поимки. И идея феникса, огня и перерождения вплетена в текст красиво.

Вот только... Сорри, это личная ассоциация, но полёт Дракулы мне напомнил полёты Волдеморта в последнем «Гарри Поттере». Не могла не похихикать :).

2010-07-03 в 23:04 

Sorry I missed church. I was busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a homosexual
Rendomski Ох, как приятно, когда коментарии пишут на английском, да еще и с переводом.:friend:

2010-07-03 в 23:50 

Мастер трансфиругации (C).
Мне так без проблем, другим, может, сложнее ;).

2010-07-04 в 03:29 

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.
Rendomski Heh, thank you very much ^_^ I wouldn't know, never read much of Harry Potter XDD I've read some of them, but not all.

2010-07-04 в 14:23 

Dafna536 gave me a link to your page, so now I'm here.
I have to admit that it has been long since I was in fandom and at first I was a bit skeptical if I'd be able to enjoy something that no longer held my interest as much as back then.
But after reading this wonderful piece I was quite awed, if you could say so.
Gorgeous writing style. Really, I loved it. The plot is great, it got my attention from the first paragraphs until the end. Your way of writing the characters is amazing. It makes you really believe and I think that to be really impressive. You could really see Dracula and the atmosphere of that time.
Thank you, this was truly great.

2010-07-05 в 04:03 

To make a monster into a pet, one must first break the monster into a husk, leaving nothing of personality or mind. Then, and only then, can it be rebuilt to fit the master as a pet.
DevilWearsJeans I am glad you enjoyed it, and thank you for the praise. <3

2011-03-11 в 02:32 

Schingiuire Замечательная история! Я в восторге. Давненько не встречала по Хеллсингу ничего достойного, а ваш "Phoenix phyre" меня покорил с первого предложения. Прочла на одном дыхании и снова перичитала. Браво! :hlop: