The Dreamquest of Drake

You stepped forward grasping the wheel at the helm of the Ivory ship. The wind seemed to pick up blowing wildly through Morgan's long white pigtails, filling the sails which swung open of their own will, ready to carry you onward.

"Show me what's missing." You said with conviction.

Morgan stepped in at your side, placing a bracing arm around you "Together then. Prepare yourself, I do not know what the past will tell us, but we will see it true, nonetheless. Think on not what is, but what has been and we will be taken aback."

As if a full crew manned the decks, the ship began to react to your thoughts. With your father's face in your mind, with the lost sound of your mother's voice carrying you into sleep, with the brutal days of your growing up, the ship took sail and dashed out in a white streak into another realm.

Moving beyond the scope of imagination, the ship rushed through an aether of ephemeral spires, which popped up and vanished one after the other. The Pillars came in sevens, you realised, seven colossal beams of black marble which the ship bounced between. Some were darker than others, and in different states of repair, but the roar of this astral space, sung in seven tones, lit with seven onyx lights which shone in seven hues. Back and forth it threw you, from one to two, three to four, five to six... until in a great crash of black waves, the ship jolted to a sudden stop on the seventh pillar where like an egg; your mind was cracked open.

Family - Pride

You were nearly thrown from the deck, but caught yourself on the bannisters, quickly reaching out to stop Morgan from flying off her feet. She thanked you, softly as you helped her steady and the both of you looked out into the celestial vista, filled with stars burning with a black flame.

Morgan took your hand "Come, I do not know where you have taken us. perhaps we will see clearer after we disembark?"

Leading you down into the lower decks, the clean and empty ship's hull gave way to a breaching catch where you and Morgan could depart.

You paused, looking out through the hatch and felt a wave of nostalgia "That smell... I definitely know that smell."

Stepping off the plank, the comfort of hard ground hit your feet. Not just any floor, but a delicate rug, one that you knew. You'd roll around in that bearskin rug as a boy, picturing Jessica Alba, naked as the day she was born, rolling around with you.

This was without doubt the lounge of blue-drake Manor, as you knew it as a child.

A ghostly hue overcast the decorum of the Drake lounge, fitted with your father and grandfather's old armchairs, with magazines and books laid on their tall shelves, picture frames fuzzy with the distortion of time sat on the hearth's mantle.

Quicker than a cut can bleed, the eerie quiet was broken by the sound of voices flooding in from the hallway.

You turned and Morgan pressed in at your side, the both of you watching in curious amazement as several figures suddenly burst into the room.

The Man and woman who stormed in were both familiar and alien to you.

A tall feminine streak, in a neat black blouse, emblazoned with the familiar crest of a Black wingless dragon. onyx slacks hugged her strong legs. the first two buttons were loose revealing the arches of her bust and the silky waves of her shoulder hair shone like strands of jet and her fierce eyes of gold, burning with youth and wrath gave her all the anecdotes of Diana... but you knew better when you saw that scowl.

"-That has nothing to do with me!" A young Remhilde roared to the man that followed adamantly, raising both of her tattooed arms in exasperation.

He too was towering in height, with a spotless grey cardigan with hard-rimmed circular glasses over his measured but persistent golden gaze. His... hair was shorter than you remembered and his five o'clock shadow contrasted to the thick black beard you'd always known. Roman Drake, your father in all but age and manner snatched his sister's shoulder "Rem, stop. Just stop for a second and listen to me!" the cold tones of his voice were all but non-existent, this was clearly passionate and virile man, not the cool unfeeling father that had raised you.

"Look at him" You muttered as they stormed through you "He's so different." astonished by the image of the two, so young and different, yet oddly the same.

Remhilde was seething, red-faced with frustration "You know what they are and how I feel about them. And you brought one into our home! we are at war, brother, there is no time for your nonsense, we have a duty-"

"-pft!" Your father hissed, his contemptuous ire oddly mirroring your own "Don't talk to me about duty, I know about your 'secret' trips into the old town to drown yourself in jack daniels..."

Hilde's mouth opened in quiet surprise, clearly caught off guard "That's, that's nothing!"

"Maybe I could believe you if I hadn't had you followed for the past week. You swore not to fall off the wagon and yet you've had so many old fashions I can see the tailcoat growing out of your ass!"

"It is a non-issue." She demanded as if that would make it true. But you could see the glaze over her eyes that she got when she was drunk.

Roman didn't look convinced, as he moved in closer to whisper in his sister's ear. You and Morgan stepped towards them to listen in.

"You were doing so well, when I said I was proud that you'd gotten control again I meant it. You can't keep doing this to yourself, I don't wanna hear about how badly father treated you, how the training broke you because I never let it break me. I need my sister back, I need your support on this even more." He said softly, with all the sadness and regret of a worried brother.

There was a quiet regret which oozed into Hilde's features, that same conflict of love and hatred she'd shown with you, but she stepped back and shook her head "I can't, it's us or them, that's how it's always been. We are soldiers Rommie, not peacekeepers"

But the sibling's combative talk was ended by the entrance of an old man you knew well and an old woman... who you'd only heard of...

Artorias was suited and booted in every measure of his former greatness, with slicked-back grey hair and a clean-shaven face, he carried himself in a lordly manner... and the woman at his side was his lady in every way.

She was smaller than Pops, a petite woman with hard crow's feet likely forged from many subtle grins. Her eyes were the starkest of blues and her silver-grey hair was tied up in a bun. With her relaxed green blouse with brown suspenders shrouded in a fluffy mahogany coat, You looked upon her with utter amazement.

"My god." You said, nearly frozen in shock.

"Your grandmother, Dalia Drake." Morgan confirmed, smiling curtly "This must be... sometime before 1974, it seems my power has in fact influenced our destination."

But you could not hear her, instead, you strolled up to your grandparents, gazing at your grandmother, trying to memorize her face, wishing you could shout and scream anything to draw her attention, to talk to her... but you were merely a ghost of the present, looking into the past.

"And what is it you two are whispering about, then?" Dalia's accent was a strong Bostian, sweet and thick like honey but whispy and careless.

Roman and Hilde seemed to shuffle together subconsciously and you caught your aunt, shooting Roman a pleading look. He huffed "Hilde seems to think that we shouldn't conduct the trial."

"Does she now?" Artorias spoke curiously.

Hilde approached her parents "This-"

"Sit, Remus." The Mad-dog barked in immediate dismissal "I take no pleasure in this either, but tradition dictates that this trial takes place. We shall hear what your brother and his new friend have to say." Artorias conducted himself with authority, one that Hilde obeyed even if it was begrudgingly.

They all took their seats in the circle of chairs, Roman threw some logs in the fire and whispered in strange tones. Clicking his fingers the hearth blazed with embers at his command.

"Dad knew Wicken magic!" you commented, and Morgan laughed.

"A better student I have never known." She said, almost mournfully.

Roman stood before his family and breathed "I wish to make a proposal before we begin."

Artorias waved in lazy recognition "Propose away."

"The trial demands that all members of the family are present. If I may - Борис, иди сюда!" Roman called in Russian and the doors opened to reveal a juggernaut of a man, strolling in, looming over the others.

A younger, stronger Boris, with thick brown hair, knelt at Drake's feet "You called, Брат?" he spoke in his deep Russian tone.

Roman spoke up "Boris may not have our blood, but he is more family than the Tyrns who have latched themselves upon us, and the wealthy who shoehorn themselves into our affairs. He saved my life, hell all of our lives a thousand times in the conflicts with the Gerix and the Ulf. I say his place is with us."

Artorias pondered Boris as if he were a yapping chiwawa, not a giant with hands bigger than his face. Even the loveable Russian bodyguard seemed lowered by the reverent gaze of the Drakes upon him. "I am a believer in unconditional truths. One is that we are the Dark Killers, whose purpose is to correct the evil from which we were bred. Another is that for centuries, hundreds of broods have been borne from the darkest of deeds, maybe they deserve to live, maybe we deserve to die, but it is the Mortal blood which is shed in the lines between which justifies our mission.

Thus is my belief in these unconditional truths, that blurs my judgement in this matter. Bori of the Taiga has served us well, true, but the blood of a thousand innocents have been shed at the tip of his claws. Perhaps including him would be unwise if not for his stalwart loyalty."

The family pondered Artorias' musing, Boris most of all. He seemed downcast by the mentioning of whatever slaughter he'd taken part in... regardless, there were clearly things about Boris that you didn't know, and yet, the premise of Boris himself being a monster felt oddly familiar.

"I second Rommie on this one." Dalia spoke, "Boris is a good man, a brother to Roman, a much-needed friend in times of turmoil."

"Here-here." Hilde agreed, flashing Boris an adoring smirk.

"Very well then, join us, Boris. You have served our family well, we are unworthy of your loyalty my friend." Artorias said, welcoming Boris into the fold.

The colossal man stood, near hitting his head on the chandelier "I-I am honoured, Lord Judge, thank you for trust in me" He said through a booming but nervous chuckle. Joining Roman at his side, Artorias clapped his hands together.

"Now then, shall we begin if we are all settled?" The old man, raised his arms still lean with muscle towards the door and pressed his fingers to his lips, letting free a beckoning whistle.

Rolling in, came a dense man with a thick red beard that you didn't recognize, followed by an identically stocky woman with wild auburn locks, dragging none other than Morgan Blair into the room.

You puzzled at the girl held in their arms, she was a touch smaller than her present counterpart, with her cold black eyes betraying nothing, but the crack in her cheek oozed with dark blood where she had clearly sustained a nasty blow. "Ello there folks!" the man roared with a joyful smirk, his thick beard quivering in his laughing foreign tone "You weren't kidding, Hilde, this one's tougher than she looks!" You moved closer to the man inspecting him suspiciously, spotting the faint gold in his rosey eyes.

Remhilde flashed the red-haired man a knowing frown, to which he chuckled nervously, scratching his scarlet head.

"Lord Tyrn, a pleasure as always." Artorias greeted as Morgan's knees scrapped along the carpet. The woman by his side scowled at the young Morgan, dropping her ruthlessly on the ground where she fell limp in the centre of the circle.

"You hold court over this worm, old man? This... wickan vermin?" Growled the red-haired woman, who seemed adamant not to meet eyes with Roman, who held back his seething wrath at Morgan's crumpled-over form on the ground.

"What the hell are you playing at, Edria!?" Roman hissed, moving quickly to Morgan's side "She came here unarmed and in peace, and you beat her to a pulp!"

Eldria, likely the sister of the red-haired man, shook her head in disbelief "First he rejects the promise of a truly strong heir, and now he defends these pathetic little china dolls. She is a Witch, you fool and a strong one to boot, the fact that you even-"

"That will be quite enough, Eldria. This is a matter for our house, be thankful that you have been gifted an invitation to look in." Dalia spat, silencing the bitter red woman.

Peering at these two, you slowly began to realise just who they were as the man shuffled towards Hilde, placing his large hand on her shoulder, which she quickly grasped looking up at him gratefully. "This was before Talia's **** ... he must be Uncle Russell, Hilde's husband. look at them, I've never seen Hilde look at anyone like that, it must be him. Then she must be his sister, Jesus they are descendants from the house of Tyrn!"

"Extinct now of course." The Matriarch said, not so mournfully.

"The Morrigan Killed them off years ago, this must have been back before the Moores invaded." You extrapolated quickly as the group of descendants gazed down at Roman, helping the bullied white-haired gurl into a sitting position.

"You alright, Hedwig?" He said more softly and kindly than you'd ever heard your father speak to anyone. The Stark-white girl cleared her throat, mustering a grin with her cracked lip.

"Meeting your family is always... so much f-fun." She whispered.

The Maitrarch beside you seemed overshadowed by nostalgia and grief at the image before her.

"You are Morgan Blair of the Pond Coven who infest the learning institution of East Wallace Academy are you not?" Artorias questioned in an authoritative tone.

Morgan looked at the old man earnestly "I can't answer questions."

"Can't or won't?" Hilde barked, folding her arms "This one has been running around causing all sorts of trouble, with our foes the Gerix and has been converting with creatures from beyond the veil."

Artorias nodded "I am familiar with this particular, Witch, next in line to be arch-wicken no doubt by her appearance. Your school has been tolerated by our kin for many an age, based on the concord between us and your matriarch, within this everlasting parley it is agreed that your coven may operate in its ancestral seat, on the grounds that the Mortal ilk which you operate around is not influenced or endangered. However, Executioner Remus accuses you of Goetia. Consorting with demons is forbidden even to our immortal foes, the Undead. How do you plead to these charges?"

Morgan's smile broadened, it was insane how brave she seemed in the face of this gathering of unrelenting monster killers "I can't answer questions." She repeated.

You expected your grandfather to harden with anger, but instead, he returned her grin, relaxing leisurely into his chair.

"The creature is clearly bewitched." Eldria spat "Why not just kill her and be done with this, we won't get the truth out of her."

Roman stood, tucking his hand to the holster where his thick onyx magnum revolver, Black Baby sat ready to be drawn "Any who tries to harm her, will answer to me."

"Where has this protective instinct to protect this monster, come from, my son?" Dalia asked. The others also seemed bewildered, but you noticed Boris fixing Roman with worried eyes as if trying to warn him without words.

Hilde too clearly knew something that Artorias and the others did not, as she shifted uncomfortably, tightening her grip on her husband's rotund fingers.

Roman looked at them all and seemed to resolve himself to whatever truth was about to be let free. "Morgan is not a creature, she is no more a monster than Boris or myself. You have the balls to sit there on your high horses and pretend like our creed still means something, but times have changed, the Witches are in the same boat as the Undead as they too ride the same ship as the Lycanthropes. All are locked in a cycle of degeneration, something we all know well, and yet not one opportunity for redemption has been given."

Artorias laughed coldly as the others remained silent "Ha, is that why you preserved our friend Boris here, despite wiping out his entire clan, or perhaps why you foster a liking for this, kindling, crumpled on the ground before us? You wish to redeem the corrupted?"

"If we weren't meant to give them a chance to find alternatives; a new purpose then what is the point of having a Jury, why not just judge and executioner? I will not have it, as Heir to this house, I demand that this girl be let free, she has done nothing wrong." Roman seethed dangerously

Dalia seemed taken aback, the Tyrns seemed disgusted by this blatant disregard for tradition.

"Unless you can provide some testimony to the contrary, then this girl has summoned unholy creatures whose power could swallow this city whole, boy.

You may insult us as much as you wish, but this is folly of the highest order. Our creed dictates that any who may draw the eyes of the High Court or cause damage on an apocalyptic scale for mankind will be sentenced to ****. This is the price for reckless Goetia. She will be punished for her transgressions..." Artorias explained coldly.

"I won't let this happen-" Roman started, but Artorias suddenly stood.

"-She. will. be. punished." He growled like an angry dog.

Roman took a long breath. Boris shifted forward "Don't Brother!" but Roman held up a silencing hand.

"Then you will have to sentence me too because I am the reason why Morgan's been summoning dark spirits"

Shock permeated the space in rapturous silence. Eldria was the first to speak up "Traitorous, disgusting."

"I'm lucky to be a part of this family now, even if Ellie doesn't agree. But enticing Witches to summon demons is too far." Russel spoke, shaking his head. You saw Hilde let go of her husband's hand, and Artorias noticed, the old man burning with a quiet rage.

"You knew about this girl?" He asked his daughter, who shuffled uncomfortably.

"Why don't you take a break from bulling her for a moment, and face your son." Roman butt in quickly.

Artorias looked to Roman in disgust "You, explain yourself, now."

Roman nodded, "It seems your plan to engage me to Eldria has run its course. I have found someone better suited to be my wife. She is... unable to properly bare me a new heir, Morgan has been assisting me in this venture."

Eldria froze in vapid hatred, as Artorias moved towards his son "You've taken some whore instead of the honourable pure-blood match I have made for you. You will tell me who this woman is boy and you will tell me now."

A sickly kind of grin came over Roman's face, but his face off with his father was interrupted by Morgan, tugging on his trouser leg. He looked down and saw the Stark white girl, smiling; pointing towards the corner of the room.

All turned to look into the corner of the lounge, where the cape of shadow swollen by the single flame of the hearth. Within that darkness, two crimson eyes starred, without Morgan's pointing finger, nobody even you would have noticed the figure tucked into the shadows.

In the following seconds, you saw the true power of the House of Drake come to fruition. Artorias' arms erupted with silver, lining his forearm in the claw-like blades which Remhilde would come to inherit.

Dalia flew back, ripping a shotgun from beneath her chair and the Tyrns both took up arms, Eldria with a slender rapier blade which shimmered with power and Russel with the familiar gleaming haft of the Hammer of Ymir.

Hilde's legs, both notably present, became swathed in the ivory metal of her bladed boots, although she made no move to advance like the rest of her family.

They all faced the shadowed figure, wrought with hostility, as Boris and Roman side by side moved between them "You stupid fool, you bring one of Them into our home!?" Artorias roared.

Roman lifted his arms, and carefully drew his gun, tossing it aside "I won't fight you, I know you're afraid... But I swear to you she's not like the others."

"You can't be serious, Romulus." Dalia muttered shakily "That's... it's an Upir, you can't, you musn't."

Roman looked at his mother sincerely "I love her. And I love Morgan as if she was one of our own, she has been more family to me in these past years than any of you. I won't let you kill them over pride. If you kill them, then you lose your precious heir as well. The decision is yours..."

Artorias fixed his son with a hideous look, contemplating the crimson eyes behind him.

"He is our son, Tori," Dalia whispered.

"He is a blood traitor, a deviant," Artorias growled.

"...Our boy, Artorias, our only boy. Your boy, look at him. didn't your father say the same for us?" Your grandmother reasoned.

There was silence after that. After what felt like hours of the Mad-Dog's killer gaze, the Old man lowered his arms and rubbed his temples. Without another word, He dipped his shoulders low and stormed out of the room, pausing only to peer at those eyes in the darkness once more, before bursting through the doubles doors and out of sight.

Roman relaxed, letting out a shaking breath as his family gaze upon the figure, who stepped out from the umbral darkness...

Slender like an arrow of white marble, stood a marvel of a woman with piercing eyes of iridescent emerald. Her hair was a tamed tsunami whose waves churned with tones of black, red and maroon. Her face was the milky white of an overcast sky with high cheekbones and a soft button nose.

She carried herself with an elegance you'd never before seen, such was her noble gate that she seemed like a carved statue given life. She strode forth, like a gentle mist past Roman who watched her adoringly, past the Drakes and Tyrns who jolted around to follow her movements and slowly craned down to touch tenderly at Morgan's face.

"Don't be afraid." Her voice was deep and haunting, her accent swathed with a cool European twang. It was a strangely reassuring tone, a voice buried so deep in your memory, that hearing it and seeing the one to whom it belonged, brought a tear to your eye. "No one will hurt you anymore, I promise."

The Matriarch beside you, touched her chest at the nostalgic sight, whispering the name of the maroon goddess before her "Elizabeta..."

"She's... No way, that's... mom?" You couldn't believe your eyes, you wanted to reach out to her, tell her that you were here, that you could see her and be together again. "Mom, mom it's me I..."

But a strong hand caught your arm "Don't Charlie."

But you were deaf to Morgan's warning, rallying at your mother's side, consuming the image of her and cementing it in your mind "Mom?"

As you reached out to touch her shoulder, Elizabeta's ears seemed to prick up. She looked back uncertainly for a moment, staring right through you... but she turned her gaze back down to the Morgan of the past, helping the girl to her feet.

Filled with disappointment, you felt a tucking at your back, a wrenching **** beckoning you backwards with **** power... and your ethereal body was swept into the black waters of the Lake.