Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Amoare ab Hostis ❯ Chapter 11 ( Chapter 11 )

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The line of staff standing in the foyer awaiting the arrival of Sir Arthur Hellsing stretched all the way back to the large staircase leading up into the proper wings of the mansion. Walter, being a somewhat minor household servant, was situated towards the back.

It was a simple tradition. The master of the house would return home and the staff would be present to greet him as soon as he arrived, and then disperse shortly afterwards. Walter stood with his back stiff and shoulders thrown back, his head slightly bowed with a few pieces of his now shoulder-length hair falling foward out of his messy ponytail to brush his cheeks. He could feel Jemmings' eyes on him from across the room, glaring and silently ordering him not to mess this occasion up.

If the truth were to be told, Walter's heart was nearly beating out of his chest. He swallowed against the nervous lump in his throat and fought to keep his eyes level with the ground, as was customary. Arthur's coming home had sparked off a number of thoughts and feelings within himself, not least of which was a powerful hope for Alucard's release. He didn't know if Arthur even knew about the imprisonment, or, if he didn't, when or if Walter would get a chance to speak with him to inform him of it.

Someone next to him brushed against his arm. He ignored it, fighting to control his nerves. It happened again and he glanced up and saw nothing, then looking down and to his left he saw Peter Fargason, Commander Fagason's only son, staring back at him. Peter had grown admirably and was now in his mid-teens with a healthy amount of muscle for his age due to his father's constant pressure to be the perfect soldier. He had startlingly deep brown eyes that seemed to look straight through you. He was an unnerving boy, so serious and calm for a teenager. Walter's expression must have been puzzled, for the boy nodded toward the door.

"You're nervous about Sir Arthur coming back?" He asked in a cool, monotonous tone of voice that relfected the stoic quality that emmanated from him.

"Yes," answered Walter.

"Why?"

"Because...I don't know why." Walter lied.

"Yes, you do," Peter grinned, a rare sight. "You're hoping he'll let the vampire go. I wouldn't count on it if I were you."

"Why not?"

"Dad says he's changed. He visited the base in Ireland a few times while Sir Arthur was there and he told me he was different."

"How so?" Walter asked, remembering the older man's warmth and easy grin.

"He says he doesn't smile anymore."

Walter's stomach did a painful sort of twist at that. He turned away from the solumn boy to his left and focused once more on his feet, a dark cloud settling over his hopes and expectations. The main doors stood open and so the only warning Walter was given of Arthur's arrival was the soft tap of dress shoes on the marble floor. Quietly murmured words of welcome worked their way down the line. Arthur nodded briskly, and occasionally muttered a quick greeting.

Fargason, who had recently been elevated from General to Commander, trailed behind Arthur, apparently having been assigned to collect Master Hellsing's son from Ireland. When he reached where Walter and Peter stood he gave his son a brief nod, smiling approvingly at his conduct. Arthur noticed and came to a stop before them.

"This is your boy, Fargason?" He asked, a note of surprise in his tone.

"Yes, Sir. Just turned fifteen last month," said the Commander with pride.

"My, how you've grown, Peter!"

"Thank you, Sir Hellsing."

Walter glanced up through his lashes and caught his first glimpse of Arthur in nine years. His heart fell. Arthur was older, naturally, so the youth that had already been fading from his face when he and Walter first met was now gone completely. But he looked pale and strained, his hair cut short and nothing at all like the wavy, carefree style he'd had nine years ago. There were dark smudges underneath his eyes and the lines around them were not a result of laughter but of stress. This was not Arthur Hellsing as he'd known him, no longer that genuine man with a lazy smile and a quick laugh. He was Rupert Hellsing's son, heir to the Hellsing legacy.

Walter didn't realize he was staring until Arthur's eyes shifted to the left and met his own. The older man gasped slightly, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion and alarm.

"Walter?" he breathed, softly, barely a whisper.

More than a little intimidated, Walter spoke without thinking, "You remember me?"

Arthur didn't answer, but merely stared at Walter with a sad, haunted quality in his eyes that the younger man didn't remember ever being there before. A variety of emotions flickered across his tortured face before he turned on his heel and fled, ignoring the rest of the staff as he took the marble staircase two steps at a time. Walter's eyes followed his flight into the upper wings of the mansion with a strange sort of dread settling over him. Arthur seemed panicked about something, and Walter had an unsettling feeling that somehow the older man knew, in the moment he recognized him standing there, that something had gone wrong in his absence.

***

Nine years away hadn't dulled his memory any, and Arthur stalked down the passageways with a sure step. He realized he was breathing hard and fast, his heart thudding in his chest as he neared his father's study. He didn't care if he was presenting the proper imagine of a cool, collected man of the Hellsing line at the moment, all he cared about was getting answers.

Not bothering to slow down before the huge oak double doors, Arthur slammed his palms into them, sending them creaking inwards on their hinges and then bouncing out and open. Inside his father appeared startled by the noisy entrance and stared at his son in the doorway with one of the most blatantly stunned expressions on his face Arthur had ever seen. His father never showed any of the weaker emotions; only anger, hatred, arrogance, pride and honor. Nothing surprised Rupert Hellsing.

"What is Walter doing as a butler?" Arthur spat accusingly.

"Keeping the house in order, naturally. What else would a butler do?" Rupert wheezed, the cyncism lost in the weakness of his voice.

"Why is he a butler? I thought he was to be your little pet science experiment? Your miracle child?"

"For God's sake Arthur, you rush home to your sick, dying father's side only to badger him with questions? What happened is done, and Walter has now been placed with the household staff. Leave it."

Arthur stared blankly at his father for a few silent, terse moments, going over the events just before his departure for Ireland so many years ago, wondering what could have happened between then and now to bring about such a dramatic turn of events.

"What happened after I left?" He asked quietly.

"I said, leave it." Rupert told him in a warning tone. His father glared at him hatefully, passing a hand over bloodshot eyes. He looked terrible. Arthur couldn't bring himself to care much. "It's none of your concern."

"Oh, I beg to differ," said Arthur softly, as he began to walk slowly towards his father's desk. "You see, Father, very soon you will be dead and I will be in charge of the Hellsing organization, so I feel that it is very much my concern."

A soft gasp came from the doorway and Arthur turned to see Commander Fargason in the doorway, his face white with shock. Arthur smiled cruelly at him and his blind service to his father. No one dared question old Rupert, not even his son when he'd sent him away to another continent...until now.

"What did you say to me?" The old man hissed in disbelief.

"Don't act so surprised, you had to of known that I'd grown a pair of stones sooner or later." Arthur scoffed, walking over to a side table with a decanter of single malt whiskey. He poured himself a liberal three fingers and sipped, contemplating the amber liquid in his glass along with his next words. A thought suddenly occured to him and he turned to face his father slowly.

Arthur's eyes narrowed suspciously. "Where is Alucard?"

***

"He is becoming something completely separate from what we intended, David! He is becoming a monster!"

"And what do you expect me to do about it, Nathan? It is out of my hands, and yours. Not even the Pope could hope to undo what we've done now."

Nathan gasped. "You can't speak of His Holiness that way-"

"Irrelevant."

"David!"

"At this point Alexander is too powerful for any of us to hope to control him. It's in God's hands, now."

"Funny, considering that we were supposedly doing this in the name of God to begin with. What have we done, David?"

"Something horrible..."

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