WHO: Alucard and Integra Hellsing WHEN: Backdated to a bit before the jump, a few days after Christmas WHERE: Their home WARNINGS: Low (some mentions of death) STATUS: Gdoc, complete
In retrospect, Christmas had been a lot more active then she’d anticipated. No Church (there wasn’t a power invented that could get her to either a Catholic Church or, God forbid, one of those terribly tacky American Churches) but She’d set a few hours aside on the day for quiet contemplation. God, she felt, had understood. In her own London she’d have plenty of things to go to, but those things were ever a subtle battle between the various members of the Round Table. Here she hadn’t anticipated invitations, nor ones she actually didn’t mind. Bloodstone was an interesting individual with whom she shared traits and the sorcerer's...well he could be a useful ally.
The books she’d gotten proved that. Nothing substantial. Yet. Theory and explanations. In time, there was plenty of opportunity to learn more there. She had goals, and she planned to meet them.
It probably said something that even with those she considered to be on friendly terms she still held that in mind.
Which was why it had been somewhat surprising when Alucard had, shortly after the festivities had ended, gone to his room and had yet to emerge. So she had given him space. He was a difficult one to try and predict, but she understood him. It was only now, after days of quiet she had finally crossed into ‘worried’. Something was clearly the matter, but ‘something’ could be anything.
And she’d spend enough time staring at the door, rather then the book, so she finally set it down and crossed the distance. Then she knocked, waited a few moments then said “You’ve been quiet.” ---
The door opened of its own accord into a dark space. Alucard had little need for light. While it served theatrical purposes, and could set the ambience of a room to suit his mood, it was unnecessary for him to see by. That detail had fascinated Abraham. Alucard had, at one point, quietly reminded the man that his body rarely obeyed natural laws. Why should his eyes require so much as a hint of illumination, no matter what the biology texts said about basic anatomy?
Tonight, Alucard’s room was pitch black. He’d left the blackout curtains closed, the lights off. Alucard himself was curled in a chair, almost completely hidden in a shadowed corner. He sat with one knee drawn up to his chest, a lanky arm wrapped around it. His head was bowed, features concealed behind the inky curtain of his hair. In place of his usual ensemble, he’d manifested something simpler and far older. His dark tunic, though exquisitely tailored, hung loosely on his angular frame. The usual trousers had been replaced by breeches and high boots. Even the white gloves were absent, now that Hellsing’s seals had been broken and they were no longer required. It was the first he’d gone without them since he’d been bound.
A table sat beside Alucard’s chair. On it, the pale shapes of several sheets of paper stood out against the dark wood. Alongside them were several photographs, and a slim, hardbound book.
Alucard raised his head when Integra let herself into the room. The flames in his eyes were banked, and though he had done nothing to alter his body from the form Integra most recognized, he carried the weight of his age openly for a change.
“My Master,” he greeted, voice quiet, and utterly without any hint of scheming or sarcasm. --- Ever since Integra had woken him, she'd gotten used to darkness. Her time was night, and seeing daylight could be a rare thing if she let it, because that's when those she protected England from walked the streets. But she'd always had the light of something to guide her. The moon, or the various screens. A deep darkness like this was still different. And while she'd admit it to no one, ever since she'd lost her other eye, that hadn't gotten better. It took her longer these days to adjust to such a darkness, especially if all she had was the dim light of his eyes to guide her.
When she did, she took note of his appearance and put the pieces together. She added what she saw on the table, although she did no more than glance at the items. Enough to note them for what they were, but no more. And yet despite how he looked, the oddest part was seeing him without the gloves. They seemed just as much a part of him as anything else.
She reached out her own hand, going to settle it on his shoulder. Gentle, but not intrusive. "What is it?" Her tone was gentle, despite the short question. Giving him the opportunity to speak, or not. ---
Alucard raised one hand to rest lightly over Integra’s, his skin cool against the warmth of her living flesh. Silent for a moment, he turned his head to better breathe in her scent. She had always grounded him. Even on the first day, when she’d roused him from his hibernation in his empty cell, Alucard had been drawn to her, tied as surely to her as the earth was to the sun. Her presence did the same now, pulling him out of old memories and ruminations.
“Foolishness,” he answerer her query. “Sentimentality.” Alucard did not often admit to experiencing the gentler gamut of human emotion. Whether his admissions were rare due to his vampiric nature, or because he suppressed such feelings, even he sometimes didn’t know. “It is unwise to wish for home, and yet, I did.”
Once, a flick of his hand would have lit a host of candles. Now, Alucard was forced to guard his power. He reached for the table and turned on the small, dim lamp that rested there. Orange stained glass panes served to mute the light from the electric bulb they shielded. It was just enough light for a human to see by, when doing close work, such as reading a letter. Even with her vision compromised, Integra would be able to see the letters and photographs, and the first edition of Bram Stoker’s most famous work. The book appeared well-worn, though not ancient. The photographs likewise showed some, but not much, age. Most surprising of all would be the letters. They were written in an ancient hand, in Alucard’s native dialect, and yet appeared so new that the ink could not have been dried on the page more than a week, if that.
--
She took his hand, and it was still odd. But it wasn't something she focused on. Especially when he admitted his emotions and thoughts. Those things were rare things, and so to be heeded. The light still made her blink, but she adjusted quick enough. She glanced to the letters and pictures, and knew the book well enough that she could pick it out of a dozen similar ones. This was, if she was right, the one Stoker had given to Abraham personally. The one that, if memory recalled, sat somewhere in their library. Or used to.
The letters stood out more. She knew enough to pick out names, dates, locations because while she knew the language, the dialect always made her go slower, forced her to read things twice. And the fact they looked newly written made them even more curious. She’d find a way to store those. Something secure.
She let her grip on his hand tighten just a little. “Unwise is a big word. “ These were not pieces of his past she could in any way return. Nor were they really things she could truly comprehend. “The good, I fear, comes with the bad.” It was a truth some memories could have sharp edges. She had a picture of her own that made that a truth.
“What can I do?” Not a question that might have an answer, but it was one worth asking nonetheless. --- Integra’s gesture was appreciated. Alucard rested his cheek against the back of her palm, sighing in something that was part contentment, part resignation. He’d completed the gift list exercise tongue-in-cheek, not expecting anything to come of it save a bitter laugh at the ridiculous tradition. He had yet to decide if he was pleased or disgusted that the gifts had been delivered in truth.
He could still detect the scent of home on the objects he’d received: Abraham, Arthur, Walter, Mina. Even John Seward and Jonathan Harker. Most cherished, and worst of all, were the scents that lingered on the letters, that of both of his wives and their children.
“It has been a long time since I thought of them in such detail.” The words came after a long pause, and slowly. “I don’t often find cause to be that version of myself, or to court his ghost.” Despite the tales of his cruelty, Alucard had been a loving husband and proud father. It pained him that his line had fared no better after his death than it had in his life.
“The letters came to me when I was in the field with my army. By the time the messenger reached us, it would have been many days, if not weeks, since they were written. I would dismiss my advisors and red in silence when I could.”
--
This part too she settled in her mind. Whatever else these wishes had given (or not) they could apparently transcend times as well. But it wasn't something she put a lot of focus on. Alucard held that. So she stepped closer, offering what comfort she could. It was small, but at least something.
She let him speak, listening. It was rare enough, and he trusted her with this. "Ghosts have a habit of turning up when we least expect them to," she gave finally and quietly. It was probably a cold sort of comfort, but she had little else to give. And after a longer pause she added. "Comfort, when such things were rare." It wasn’t enough of course. There weren’t enough words, not really.
Still her next ones were carefully chosen, and carefully phrased. “Ones I think, should be kept.” In the end, this wasn’t a choice she really could make. Except she probably could, in some fashion, but not one she would. ---
“Indeed.” The word slipped from his lips without his consent. Though Alucard would once have destroyed the artifacts sent to him, now, he found that he cherished them in spite of the sorrow they brought. They were proof of mortal lives he had held dear, in spite of their fleeting nature. Remnants of the mortal man he had been lay in the pages spread upon the table. Vlad, though cruel and harsh as a leader, had once been a good man, in his way. Full of faults, certainly, but he had loved his wives and his children, loved his people, and directed the fury of his hatred elsewhere. He still believed that the Turks and the traitorous boyar had deserved it.
“What counsel do you give, Integra?” He remained unmoving, cheek still pressed to her hand. He listened closely to the soft thrumming of her pulse beneath her skin. He so loved the sound of life in her veins.
---
Briefly, her fingers stroked along his skin but paused at his question. "In this matter, I have none to give. This is not a matter I know much of." Honesty was the very least of what she could offer. No matter how she might turn this, it wasn't something that held an easy answer. "I will find something to ensure these are kept secure." That too was something she could do at least a little about. She regretted not having the security of the mansion, but she'd make do.
She let silence hang for a moment before she motioned to the pictures with her free hand. “May I?” She’d read the book enough times she could quote it, as an exercise of hers had always been to try and find the truth between the fiction, and the letters weren’t really something she felt she had a right to pry into but the pictures held parts of her own past in them. She’d asked for the picture she’d held dearest, but she was curious as well. ---
Alucard pressed a kiss to the back of Integra’s hand, an expression of gratitude and affection. He was rarely so overt and genuine in his attentions, but the occasion called for it, he felt. He might be held captive by his past, but Integra was his present, and he was devoted to her. He did not wish to allow that important point to be missed.
“Please,” he said, gesturing to the photographs with his free hand. “They are as much yours as they are mine, are they not? More yours than mine, I do believe, in certain cases.” The collection included the more formal images common during Abraham’s time, and grew gradually more relaxed and spur of the moment as it trended toward the days of Integra’s youth.
--
She smiled and understood his gesture. She leafed through the pictures carefully, only knowing some faces from tales but not much else. “About equal, I would say.” It was a curious glimpse into the past. But not all together unwelcome.
She paused along those images of her own parents images, as even years later she held some curiosity about the woman who had given her life. She only had these images, and nothing else. But she didn't linger long. This wasn't really about her, after all. “Are you alright?” That was probably a big word, but it was worth asking. ---
Soft laughter greeted her inquiry. Alucard turned his hand beneath hers to lace their fingers together and stole another chaste kiss. He wondered if she would permit him to take these liberties more often, after all that had happened between them, and the proof of his devotion when he had stayed despite the seals having broken.
“Ask me when night comes again,” he invited. “My moods are as changeable as the sea, as well you know. Perhaps I shall move to another distraction by then. Or perhaps not.” He lifted one of the letters and smiled. “My wife tells me in this one of our son, and how he thought he might keep a new pup in the palace unnoticed. He took the creature from the kennels, as though the houndmaster could possibly lose count of his charges.”
--
“I will,” now that she knew she would be able to do what she could. And he was right, his moods could change easily but she did care and until he was back to his usual she would worry. Whatever else, she did care.
The memory made her smile. “Few can be blamed for such a thought. How did it turn out?” While she knew the history, she didn't quite know the past. And knew enough there was a difference. If he was willing to share, she would listen. ---
“As most tales do when a child is told to put something they want back where they found it.” Alucard had not been there, but he could readily imagine his son’s face when told that the pup would have to be returned to its mother. “We did eventually allow him to have the beast, once it was old enough and housebroken. He went down to the kennels almost every day to help in the rearing of it. No hound is more faithful than that which you have had a hand in shaping.”
He stood, then, and gently straightened the letters. “Perhaps I will speak more of these things another night. For now, I think it best I return my focus to the present. I have neglected you, my Master. That was not my intention.”
-- In it's own way that was true if she thought of it in Hellsing terms. But that was disingenuous so she didn't really. She had never really had animals of her own. Whenever she'd asked in her youth her Father had always gently brushed the idea away. She often wondered if it was because any animal would know there was a predator amongst them, even if he had been asleep. It would certainly explain even the lack of strays around. So she kept quiet on that matter. There was little to add to it from her perspective.
"You had good enough reason for it, my only wish is that you'd have told me sooner." She didn't like to worry, and liked it even less when she didn’t quite know what she was worrying about. Had she known she could have offered what comfort she could sooner rather than letting him brood over it for days. But part of that fault lay with her too. She could have checked earlier as well. --- “Come, then,” Alucard said, offering Integra his arm. “Tell me of what is going on in the world that requires our attention. Or at least is amusing.” He allowed the facade of satisfaction and contentment to slip into place, one he had worn so often that it was easy to take up at a moment’s notice. He suspected Integra would see through it, by virtue of experience, but she would understand his meaning by it. He wished to linger no more on the pain of years gone by. Integra was his present. He was grateful for her, always would be, and tonight, he was hers.