Mayhem

by Sanis

And then he laughed. She watched him, shocked and intrigued, and she couldn’t help it. She laughed too. It was strange, he was dying, she was crying, and they were both laughing. It was wrong and she wished it would have happened sooner.

Disclaimer- Not mine. Obviously.

Once upon a time, there lived a little girl. She was a beautiful girl, with bright eyes, full of light. She had long, pale hair that seemed to gleam, especially at night. She was a treasured child, never wanting for anything. Her father would tell her how beautiful she was, how much she looked like her long dead mother, of whom he had thought an amazing piece of property. She was a good little girl. She minded her father, acted kindly toward to everyone, and always brushed her teeth. Really the girl was of no apparent significance to anyone but her beloved father and his faithful servants. She lived in a mighty fortress, a castle if you will, where her father could protect her from the dark creatures that walked the night. There she stayed, reading her books, watching, learning all she could so that she could be exactly like him when she grew up.

It was along time they spent together, the girl and her father. They were openly fond of each other. Whenever he would come back from long trips to other parts of the world, many times not returning to the wee hours of the morning, she would always run down the long, dark, scary stairs. angry shadows glaring behind her. All just so that she could be in his strong arms as soon as he walked in the door. He would always oblige her, scooping her up and hugging her as best he could. Sometimes he would even scratch her a little with his mustache, just so he could see her smile when it tickled her and hear her call him "father."

It was like this for a little over a decade, and they were close. She loved her father, and he reciprocated the emotion ten fold. After a few more years, he began teaching her, forcing her to learn her place in the world she had been born into. The little girl was excited, she knew that if her father was teaching her, it must be important and she tried even harder to learn all she could. Sometimes he tried to scare her, with stories of monsters, attempting to make her understand. The little girl would always juts laugh, and shrug him off. She knew that as long as he was by her side she would be all right, nothing could harm her with her father's protection.

One day the little girl woke up and, after quickly wiping the sleep out of her eyes, she threw on her slippers and ran into his great study, prepared for their traditional morning conversation over tea and pastries. When she entered, she was surprised by what she saw. The tea was there. The pastries were there. Her father's big red squishy chair was there. Sadly, the man she was seeking was nowhere that the little girl could see.

"Father," the little girl called into the room. "Oh where are you? Don't tease me so!" She was convinced he was playing one of his little games, ones that usually involved mischief and mayhem. She searched the room, thinking that he was just being unnaturally playful.

It was well after the tea was cold and the parties stale that the little girl decided to look elsewhere. She looked up. She looked down. She looked in nooks and crannies. She looked under rocks and behind bushes, but she could not find her father. It was quite awhile before the house's butler stumbled upon her. He saw the little girl searching and took it upon himself to take her the father, whom he had been busy with all morning himself.

Once he convinced her to follow him, she took the little girl to her father's rooms, where he laid, his body pale and his eyes slightly glazed.

The girl was upset, she didn't understand what was wrong with her father. Years later all she would remember the doctors whispering to the butler that his illness took a sudden turn for the worse, that the virus had finally taken hold.

She asked the butler to bring her fathers favorite squishy red chair to his rooms, so she could sit in it and keep company. The old butler did as he was asked, with nary a word. The girl sat and she watched, just as she had always done, trying to learn all that she could. Every now and again, he would look at her, and she would see a little of the familiar twinkle that she was beginning to miss so desperately, but those moments came fewer and farther between. It was becoming apparent to the little girl that she did not have very much time left by his side. This made her very sad. As she watched his shallow breathing, she remembered all the good times they had together, and all that he had taught her and that she had taken lightly, in jest. She remembered how he always did for her, how he would hug her when he came home late at night, how he always made time for her, even when there was no time to spare. She remembered all the things he said, they ran through her head like a mantras. She smiled as he lay dying.

Just as she could tell that the end near, that he faced the final curtain, she took his hand, not willing to let him pass away completely on his lonesome. The little girl hoped that her father took some comfort in her small hand's touch as she had once taken from him. She sat, still and quiet, almost afraid that she was going to interrupt his silent departure. She could feel herself growing tired, having been by him for ages. Her eyes growing heavy, bit it hardly mattered, her father needed her.

Her patience was rewarded. At a very odd hour, eyes that had been shut fluttered open. Two sets of eyes that had once been a matching set, were now both weary and worried, albeit for different reasons. She sat attentive, waiting for something she did not understand.

"Once I'm dead, you'll be the head of the family" stated the father plainly. "You'll be in charge of our fortress, of our country, and our church. You must protect them from outside forces, as I have protected you."

"Yes, father," answered the little girl feebly.

"There were still so many things I wanted to teach you," he continued. "I wanted to keep watching over and taking pride in blood that flows trough you," he admitted.

The little girl smiled.

"You can still watch over me," she said, barely above a whisper. He did not respond.

The father died, an amused smile playing at his lips, his daughter had made him happy, even in death.

…

It was not very long until there were power fights over what the little girl's father had left to his daughter. Some wanted it so much they were willing to kill the little girl to take her spot as the new master of the house. They were willing, and they tried.

It ended up that it was the little girl's own uncle that beat out all the others, by killing them mostly, for the opportunity to take her life and steal her inheritance. The little girl was scared; she did not know what to do. Her father was gone and she was no match for a big strong man. So, she hid, hoping for something, someone to came…but no one did. The uncle had conveniently sent away all the girl's servants, as time to recuperate after their leader's demise. There was no one to save her now.

She ran and hid in her fortress. She crouched in unlikely places, observing, as she always had…trying to learn all she could.

A hated grew in her heart for her uncle. She had no love of him now. She wished bad things on him, things little girls should not think about. The ache in her heart was unsuppressed, and she wished to fill the void with the blood of revenge. However, she was not foolish. She kept low, to show herself would mean death.

After awhile, the little girl sat racking her brain, trying to find an answer. She strained for hours, thinking, thinking until her mind hurt….and she did not want to waste another moment attempting to save herself, to just give in.

Then it came to her. As simply as it came to the front of her mind she was in wonderment that she had so strain to remember anyway.

Once, a long time ago, her father had told her a secret, after a fashion. She remembered now.

"If ever you find yourself in a real crisis, if some unbeatable enemy has you in a mess,"he had said"Go underground to the forgotten dungeon! There lies one of the fruits of the Hellsing family's labors."

So she did, and what she found there changed her life…

The man had killed her uncle's minions with what seemed to be no effort at all. He killed her father's minions, and, to top it off, left the cherry for her to pluck, and puck she did. After she was finished (it had barely taken any effort as all, looking back) he savored the fruits of her labor.

"What is your bidding, my master?"the creature had asked her, his expression showing no regret. The girl was shocked at his antics, shocked and... .impressed.

"What's you name?" she asked the creature, her temporary knight

"Alucard,"he had said. "That's what your family has called me."

….

Together the girl and her knight had many gruesome adventures. He carried out bloody crusades in the name of his lady. He watched over her, he played with her. The creature taught her things her father did not. He showed her how to tie a scarf properly. He gave her first cigar, and later her first glass of hard, non-medical whisky.

Once the girl asked the creature about the bloody concoction that sustained his nutrition. He had smiled, and handed her a cup of the thick red liquid, out of what appeared to be thin air. She had taken cautiously and sipped the contents. The creature watched her reaction closely.

The girl the made no face, just raised an eyebrow and looked at him strangely.

"I don't see much merit," she had said. "It tastes like rotten pennies to me, but I suppose to each their own."

He had smiled at her then.

"It tastes better warm and…fresh," he had told her.

She wiped the stuff off of her lips, leaving them stained and smelling, to the creature, like a wallowing ground for hidden desires.

"That," said the girl, "is an experiment for another day."

The girl and the creature were inseparable. Soon it became apparent to the girl that the creature was harboring unnaturally strong feelings toward her. She was nearly twenty now, almost a woman, and he knew it as well as she did.

She tried to put a stop to their bonding. She would not give up her position, not for something as feeble as love, not after it had failed her so miserably before. He would frequently request that he join him, and be his partner for his remaining days. She shot him down every down. She knew it was the equivalent of kicking a dog with three broken legs, but her decision was decided for her. She made excuses, she was honor bound, it was against her religion, she could not become the thing she hunted…but it was a pale façade and they both knew it. She stayed a virgin, guarding her confusion with a safety net. It made him sad, but did not hinder the creature, not really. He fooled the girl into thinking he was no longer interested, by dragging home a stray kitten and taking it as his own, but anyone could see that the kitten and him had a relationship as platonic as the sun and flower, everyone except the little girl.

She was already changing; she was no longer soft, or sweet. She was hard, and usually angry. Her old butler worried after her. Her creature's pet kitten tried to worm her way into the girl's affection, but she would have none of it. She was not going to be hurt by this again. They said that the creatures were immortal, that they could not die. Her creature said he would not leave her. She wanted to believe them, but experience told her otherwise. A father had once told his daughter that he would beside her always and he had lied. She was no fool.

She lived fast, taking what she needed at whatever cost and giving back whatever she could with no apologies. She fought hard, she killed with regret, she laughed sometimes, and she always made sure to keep a smirk in her otherwise blank face, if only to give off their that she knew what she was doing, even if she didn't.

Her creature never suspected that she felt nearly the same as he, for she never let on. She had learned to keep him at bay, making it look as if she forgot their young days, when she had been his pupil, and he a…influential, if not strange, teacher. She would remember late at night, the escapades that they had enjoyed, the tears of mirth they cried from playing tricks on the old butler. She would remember their serious moments, when he talked to her of history, of his past. Of the life of her father, the man she had not known.

She was still young when the battle that defined her life took place. At thirty-two, she was as beautiful as she had ever been, if you cared to look behind her thick glasses and military uniform. She was sharp, at her prime. At the place in her life where she was discovering that she was wrong occasionally, and sometimes forgiveness was easier to get than permission.

It came as a shock to her when a routine mission turned into a full out blood bath in the streets. She dispatched her men accordingly, and when she saw that they were doing badly she herself went on the field, to pick up where the perished left off.

Her lessons with the creature had long since paid off, but now she was a skilled warrior. She was fluid, moving like water across rock. She was fast and she was merciless with those that she aimed her weapon towards, as she knew they would have been with her.

She fought hard, and it paid off. It was a long hard night, but the full moon shown in the sky and she took it as a good omen. Finally, the last corpse hit the ground, and she allowed herself to feel fatigued.

She looked around for her creature, but she couldn't find him. She called to him, but received no answer.

"Alucard," she called. "Where are you? Answer me!"

When she received no answer, he became worried and began searching for him. After a few moment of fruitless effort, she stopped and looked around. A scowl gracing her features.

Suddenly she felt something unfamiliar behind her. Assuming it was a missed target that had failed to be silenced she swung around and thrust her sword into it's heart without thinking.

"Die, you inhuman scum!" she said, angry at something escaping her clutches.

It was the single most regretted moment of her life.

He looked at her, as if it had been planned; he fell to his knees, his trademark grin spread across his pale face. She personally thought he looked at little ironic.

"Alucard," she whispered in a hoarse voiced, rasped with denial. "What were you thinking?"

She threw herself down to help him.

"Regenerate! Use those dammed appendages of yours!" she demanded.

He pushed her away slightly, so that he could lie on the grass without her struggling to keep him sat up.

"Why?" she asked understanding, but at the same time not, what was happening.

"I can't disobey a direct order, Master," he said. "You always knew that."

She sat there, and for the first time since she sat in a hidden area of her father's fortress, she was at a loss for a plan of action. She watched him watch her. She bit her lip, trying not to free the torrents of water that she refused to call tears, run down her impeccable skin.

"Don't cry Master," he said to her as she failed. He smiled and showed her his fangs for what seemed like the umpteenth time. It was so hard, she couldn't make herself believe that she was never going to see those pearly whites gleam at her from across her study ever again. It was so unnatural, him on his back, defeated like a common man, bleeding as if it meant something.

"Tears don't become you," he old her solemnly, trying to offer his sympathy.

She had nothing to say, and everything that she wanted to. He knew it too. He reached up and touched one of the salty tears that rolled down her cheeks. It quickly became a caress. She leaned her face into his large hand as he comforted her with his last moments.

"It's all right Master," he said in a voice that did not betray his current state. "I always knew you loved me too."

And then he laughed. She watched him, shocked and intrigued, and she couldn't help it. She laughed too. It was s strange, he was dying, she was crying, and they were both laughing. It was wrong and she wished it would have happened sooner.

She lay down beside him on the bloody field, no one questioned them, they looked like dozens of other corpses that had fallen around them.

She put her head down, laying it on his chest. They just were. Just waiting.

She took his hand, not willing to let him pass away completely on his lonesome. The girl hoped that her creature took some comfort in her small hand's touch as she had once taken from him. She sat, still and quiet, almost afraid that she was going to interrupt his silent departure. She could feel herself growing tired, having been by him for ages. Her eyes growing heavy, bit it hardly mattered, she was needed.

Maybe she was more than a fool than she once perceived.