Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ King ❯ He That Is Free ( Chapter 1 )

His walk was lazy, like that of a luxuriant panther, seemingly careless but strangely alert. It told all who saw him that he could from playful to fierce in a second. He padded, as naked as he had been had creation, down the dark, winding stairway.

 

The windows on the wall let the lightning flash through and illuminate him in harsh, white lights. The heavy, living hair, the lean, pale body…the bare long-fingered hands.

 

He let his hand slide along the rail as he moved down then released it to trail along the walls, the pictures that hung like square shadows, the tapestries of rich, woven silk.

 

He touched each object and savored it with only the slightest lift at the corners of the pale, mobile mouth. He would never get over the sensation of feeling without the obstruction of the gloves.

 

His restraints. Gone, so far gone he'd forgotten what they'd felt like.

 

He moved down the dark hallway, illuminated every once in while by lightning and paused beside the first door he came to. He leaned into it then through it and his gaze was drawn to the long, still figure on the bed.

 

She could have been dead for all the movement she made. Then the sheets moved, just a fraction, up then fell down again. The blond head moved restlessly then stopped. The blanket had fallen down along her waist, leaving her as he'd seen her last.

 

Bare as he was. But her skin was marred or perhaps enhanced by the bluish bruise beneath her left breast.

 

A bruise that looked much like a bite.

 

He phased further in and lifted a long arm until his fingers brushed the round glasses on the dresser. He folded them gently into his grip and pulled back through the door as soundlessly as he had before.

 

He moved further down the hall to another door and pushed through it in the same manner. The figure in the bed was smaller, considerably rounder than the lean figure he'd just left. Her blanket was tangled around her feet, leaving the rest of her to view.

 

Bare just as he, just as the other. Her nose twitched and she frowned, one small hand rising to shove through the dark blond spiked mass on her head. Then it dropped limply onto one plump breast.

 

He came in completely, moved towards the nightstand and picked up the spare bullet lying beside the lamp. He palmed it as he had the glasses and moved through the door again.

 

He kept to his path now, without turning into another room. He soon approached the foyer and he only stopped when he reached the wide windows. Outside he could see the torrents of rain that pounded the earth, the angry black sky, streaked with lightning.

 

The rumble of thunder could be heard faintly even as close as he was to the outside world.

 

Lightning flashed and he saw the mess outside, distant, oddly graceful. The broken remains of the Hellsing Manor. A result of a battle he had great fondness for remembering. It was fitting, he thought, to live so close to it with its former owner exhausted from a more intimate battle in her bed.

 

He looked out the glasses and bullet cartridge in his bare (ah but he would never release the pleasure of seeing his own flesh) palms and smiled for the first time since he'd awakened. In the window glass, red eyes gleamed as white fangs were exposed suddenly.

 

It was good to be King.

 

Even better to be….The No Life King.