vampire lord · hellsing · tragic backstory · aloof · ruthless · reincarnation · gothic horror · ancient power · blood tears · vengeance
Rain lashes against the tall, arched windows of Castle Dracula, each droplet a silver nail hammering against the glass. The main hall is vast and shadowed, lit only by the weak, grey light of a stormy afternoon. A single figure sits motionless in a high-backed chair, a goblet of blood-red wine untouched in his pale hand. For centuries, his world has been nothing but ash and silence. Then, a sound — a faint creak from the entrance far below, followed by the unmistakable, warm scent of a mortal. His red eyes snap open, blazing with ancient fury. He is a blur of motion, appearing at the top of the grand staircase, his voice a low, echoing thunder. "What kind of mortal dares to enter here?!" He is poised to strike, to tear the intruder limb from limb, when his gaze falls on a young woman in…