Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ Prelude to Eternity ❯ Where it ended ( Chapter 1 )

Tendrils of thick darkness stalk the halls of the Hellsing Mansion. In the daytime, the old house is a sight to behold, its imposing majesty drawing gasps of admiration from those who dare venture close enough to inspect England's finest `Horse Riding School.' But to one newly blooded fledging, who only sees the house under the cover of night, it is a haunted and lonely place.

“Eep!” Seras gasps. `What the bloody hell was that?' Taking a deep breath, she shakes her head at her own childishness. There are very few things to be afraid of at Hellsing, and the scariest of all would never be contented with merely facelessly toying with her. Her Master much preferred his victims to see his face. “Quite right on both counts Police Girl.” Seras jumps at the deep baritone that seems to resonate from the very walls of the mansion's basement. She gets over her fright quickly and continues to her room, stubbornly ignoring the mocking chuckle of her Master following her down the corridors.

Seras stretches carefully as she wakes, sensing the cover of night, at the same time marveling at her ability to do so. Slowly but surely she is getting used to what she has become, no, what she is becoming. Pressing the button to lift the lid of her favourite four poster coffin, she grins. For no reason what so ever, she is in remarkably high spirits. Smoothing her mussed hair she climbs from her resting place and finds another reason to smile, it is the third time in a row that she has managed to avoid injuring herself on the lid of her own coffin. Somehow, despite it all, she is achieving a balance of sorts with her new unlife. Stretching, with tiny sounds of satisfaction, Seras mulls over the night ahead. It is the first one she has been given off in months, and she intends to train. Just this once she would get to spend some time exploring her own capabilities and limitations without her Master's sarcastic input. “Not that he ever bothers to train me anyway,” she mumbles to herself.

A knock sounds at her door and she answers it with a cheerful, “Come in.” She watches as Walter enters the room with her `breakfast.' “Good evening Miss Victoria.” he greets. She beams at the aging retainer, politely ignoring the crimson meal he carries, as per usual. “Good morning Walter, how is the world outside?” He smiles easily in her presence, reminding her that not everyone views her as worthless, not everyone sees her as her Master does. “No crisis arose while you were sleeping if that's what you mean.” He pauses, his smile faltering just the smallest bit. “But Sir Integra wishes to see you.” Seras tries not to pout. “Okay, just let me get dressed.” The butler nods and adds with a meaningful look at her paler than usual complexion, “After you eat of course. It is not that urgent.” The young fledgling looks crestfallen. It is going to be one of those nights after all. “Of course Walter. Thank you.” The retainer bows and leaves silently, deserting the young midian to her thoughts. “There goes my training,” she mumbles to herself as she glares angrily at the sachet of ruby liquor that currently presides over her table. Snatching up the bag as she passes it she considers, just for a moment, drinking it. `A tiny taste…' Her throat burns for the relief she knows the packet holds and the thirst demands quenching. But she resists. And as she watches the sustenance spiral down the toilet with the rest of the dirty water, she wonders briefly if it has all been worth it.

A presence watches the young fledgling, not bothering to mask itself, almost daring her to notice. With a growl of distaste, he observes the end to her indecision.

“Enter.” Her commander's reply is sharp and demands no nonsense from those who dare take up her time. “You wished to see me?” Icy blue meet hesitant scarlet. “Yes?” Motioning for Seras to take the file on the edge of her desk, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing eyes the blonde as she flips through the information. With a small gasp Seras says, “But this is…” Her commander nods, “Correct. I want no mistakes this time Officer Victoria. Whoever is orchestrating these attacks is a professional and by turning him, they have gained intimate knowledge of Hellsing's operations.” Integra pauses to take a deep draw of her ever-present cigar, the only truly human gesture the knight ever seems to make. “I will be sending no troops with you, likewise, Alucard has `advised' me that you will not require his assistance. I, on the other hand, have my doubts.” Seras flinches at the hard words. “You will leave in thirty minutes. You are dismissed.” The authority in the other woman's voice snaps Seras from her thoughts in time to give a pointed salute. “Yes Sir.” Turning to leave, she is held up by her commanding officer's voice. “And Officer Victoria?” “Yes Sir?” “Drink the blood provided to you. You are weak enough even with it.” Seras nods, not trusting herself to speak. `Does no one in this organization see me as worthy?'

Seras mulls as she prepares to leave for her mission. `Why is it that the only people not scared of me, think me so useless?' She bites back a tiny sound of sorrow. `I will not cry, not for them, not for him.' Visions of her Master cross her mind and she tries desperately not to think of him, tall and imposing in his never-changing red attire. It is as if he mocks the desperate way the soldiers cling to their uniforms, the Hellsing crest giving so many of them a purpose in life after seeing so much carnage. No matter how the bond between them seems to hum when he is near, she cannot bring herself to enjoy his presence, not when it only means that she has disappointed the only person left that is important to her once again. A knock sounds at her door and Walter enters when she responds. “Miss Victoria, I have the keys to the car for you.”

Nodding to the two soldiers standing guard, Seras exits the Hellsing compound. Self doubt plagues her as she makes her way slowly through the night, the darkness doing nothing to impede her enhanced vision. “I should've taken the bloody car.” she mumbles irritably to herself. Somehow though, the idea of being cooped up in another military vehicle had turned her stomach. Setting a brisker pace, she heads towards the town. Tonight there is no uniform, no Halconnen, just herself, heading into the dead center of town. One lowly fledgling. The brisk pace soon becomes a jog and all of a sudden, she is running. Feet pelting the streets she soon finds herself lost in the way the scenery passes her by, lost in the rushing, timeless feeling of her own near-effortless speed.

All too soon her destination is reached, and the site of Hellsing's most recent `great battle' is upon her. Seras shivers unconsciously as memories of that night plagued her.

“Master!” “Get out of here Police Girl.” The pain, so much blood. Even now Seras can only vaguely recall the time immediately following her injury. She remembers the blood though, every glorious, no, horrible drop of it. She can remember the taste of her Master's essence on her tongue, like fire and ice coursing through her veins, searing her body and setting her aflame. She also remembers afterwards. When Sir Integra was released from prison, when she had finally met up with her Master again.

Her nostrils flare at his scent. Suddenly, it isn't just him anymore, there is something indefinable to him, an almost tangible air she hadn't noticed before. He is concentrating on what his Master is saying though, intent on her first commands since her release from incarceration. Far too busy to notice his fledgling's growing conflict. It isn't until later that night, closer to the day that she can actually speak to him.

“Master?” His voice sounds in her head, in response to her question, aimed recklessly into the darkness of her coffin. `What is it Police Girl?' He sounds vaguely annoyed, it is always that, or amusement in his voice whenever he deems it necessary to converse with her. She tries her best not to shrink back from his tone. On some level, she is grateful he has not decided to answer her in person, if only for the distraction his presence now incites. “Master, in the Tower. When I…” Before she can finish his dark, rumbling chuckle fills her head, turning swiftly to laughter. `Police Girl, you did not think that a few mere drops of my blood would give you freedom?'

Seras can remember the burning shame that came with her Master's mockery. How was she to know otherwise? He has taught her nothing of vampire lore, the little she has gleaned from Hellsing's books doing naught to combat her lack of knowledge. Curling her fists she sets forward to the Tower. `And to make matters worse, there's that strange feeling every time I'm near him now.'

The mirth of the shadow that lingers near her fades abruptly at her last thoughts. Digging a little deeper into his fledgling's mind, her Master discovers something that pleases him immensely. “So, my Police Girl has taste after all?”

Seras tries to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. For some reason being back there is making her feel… `Hungry' whispers a voice in her head. Ignoring it, she continues through the darkness. It can't be helped that she is feeling like this, it has been only a few months since the Incognito incident, and it seems that every brick of the place calls to her, some part of her mind urging her to get down on her hands and knees and lick every inch of the dark stains she keeps passing. Drawing her gun, a futile gesture against her own mind, she continues her sweep of the building.

Following her feet, Seras finds herself back in that room. The room where it all happened. `No matter how hard you scrub at it…' Her gaze is drawn magnetically to the place where her Master fell on that night. Her mind's eye showing her visions of his glistening blood pooling on the floor. Breathing hard, an unnecessary, ingrained habit, her fangs lengthen, the feeling as anticipatory, as dissatisfying as salivating. `Succumb…' Fighting the urges that tear through her body, she notices dimly a thump behind her. Turning slowly, her gun lying forgotten in her hand, she sets her eyes on the creatures that are clumsily attempting to sneak up on her. She grins, unconscious of the fact that she so resembles her Master and, in an instant, is amidst the ghouls. Cutting them down with furious swipes of her hands, pistol-whipping some and slicing open the others, she hisses her pleasure at the battle. They go down far too quickly, her need for… for… action unsated. “Pathetic,” she growls spitting on the corpses, “You make me sick.” “It would worry me if they made you feel any other way girl.” Turning sharply at the Freak's intrusion, she narrowly avoids a bullet, intended for her head. Grinning maliciously, she licks her lips, “Oh, yes,” she breathes, “It's not over yet.”

The shadow watches the battle, enjoying the glow of his fledgling's eyes, amused at the way she plays with the Freak, something she enjoys watching her Master do, knowing now that they can't actually hurt him. He chuckles quietly, though he doubted even he would live to see the day she admitted it out aloud. He grins, she should have expected such a thing as frenzied as this, starving herself for so long. There are consequences to actions for those who are not as immortal as he.

Gasping, she holds the head of the defunct Freak in her left hand. Bringing her right up to its cheek, she stares at the gun in confusion for a moment, before dropping it and running her fingers through the thick black smear of blood on its face. Bringing her bloody hand to her mouth she makes a deep sound of anticipation, only to feel an iron grip suddenly descend on her wrists. The hold forces her to drop the severed head of the Freak and pulls her hand forcibly from her waiting tongue. The figure behind her chuckles, tightening its grip as she tests it. “The blood of filth is no meal, fledgling.” She hisses at the deep voice and moves, blindingly fast, to sink her elongated fangs into her captor's white glove.

Alucard grins at her attack, eyes for once not hidden behind his glasses, hat willed into nothing. He allows her just a moment with her fangs in his flesh then, with a speed that she cannot quite fathom, he pins her neatly against a stone wall, her body resting on the stain of his blood. She thrashes and hisses at him, blood lust fuelling her bold attacks and for once he is not amused. Not when he feels a deep growl ripple up from his own throat, blood lust rising in the ancient nosferatu, pulsing in response to the flashes of need flowing through their bond. Without a word he presses her harder against the wall, freeing one hand to delve into his billowing red duster. He produces a blood pack, dark liquid from the recesses of his person, and tears it quickly with his fangs. On sight of the meal, she quietens, glowing orbs fixed on the package. He grins at her sudden compliance, blood haze fading for a moment at her silence. With one smooth movement, he lifts the bag to her mouth and she is drinking it, desperately, inhaling the sweet fuel. The container is empty in a moment, flaccid plastic between her teeth and he tears into a second bag, producing a low hiss of anticipation from the young draculina. This one she takes with more leisure, savoring it slowly. His grin fades, the bloodlust in her eyes seems to purr with pleasure and his orbs are drawn to the sensual movement of her throat. Gently, he nuzzles her neck for a moment, laving her pulse sensually with his tongue. She pauses in her feeding as she shudders, a tiny moan escaping her before she resumes her meal. With a short growl, he succumbs to his own need and bites deeply into her, throaty sound voicing his satisfaction. How sweet her blood remains even now.

Shuddering against her feeding Master, the blood pack runs dry and Seras finds herself with a clearer mind. Vaguely, she realises that she is being fed from, a solid body pinning her completely against cold stone. Her consciousness fights the pleasure that courses through her, radiating from her Master's bite. `Bite!' “Eeep! Master!” With sudden, quite useless, thrashing, she fights to free herself from his grasp. He finishes at his own leisure, pulling his head up to meet her blush darkened face. “So easy to frighten Police Girl.” he purrs, releasing her and taking a step backwards. His hat and glasses appear nonchalantly, contrasting the residual blood haze in his face, a languid grin making her shudder with its suggestion. Drawing back her hand she slaps him, the sound ringing out in the silence of the building. `How dare he?' His face turns dark, the lazy pleasure of the feed disappearing in an instant. Catching her wrist before she can withdraw it, his grip tightens until she feels something rupture in the limb. “You will respect your Master Police Girl.” His rage is barely concealed behind the yellow tint of his glasses as he disappears. “None of this mess would have occurred had you obeyed me in the first place and drank your blood.”

With a slowly dawning horror, Seras stares at the carnage around her, the bodies of ghouls spread in thick smears across every surface of the room including her own clothes. She observes the tell-tale weight of dust in the air and knows that at least one Freak has met its fate between these walls. With a gut wrenching sob, she sinks to the floor, hiding her face in her hands. “Oh God, what have I become?”

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This is chapter one of my first even fanfic with MM.org. Please read and review, suggestions, comments and email are always welcome.

Disclaimer: I do not, never have and never will own Hellsing or its associated characters nor am I profiting from this story.