Disclaimer: I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters.

This is an expansion on the Solitude POV's of the Albionians. Virgil-Bridget centric.

1. Boy Meets Girl

"Virgil, for God's sake, behave yourself!" A father cuffed his curious eight-year-old son as the youngster almost sat on one of the factory's conveyor belts. "No climbing onto the machines. No touching stuff. No bothering the workers…. Where was I? Right, here we have the line producing the B174 computer chip… Virgil, are you listening?! There'll be a pop quiz later and I expect full marks from you!" Count Victor Walsh of Manchester wondered if he should have waited a few more years before introducing his sole offspring to the family industry. But he was an old man, even for a Methuselah.

Virgil had no interest in the running of the Ghetto's factory. The father and son attracted a number of curious but discrete looks from the workers. They were as alike as chalk and cheese. The count was stern, his mouth turned down in a perpetual frown. His hair and beard were still a luxuriant black, a result of his Methuselah heritage. Everyone here in the Ghetto's a Methuselah, descended from the original band of forty or so individuals who started this underground town. Dark-coloured hair was commonplace but occasionally, fair hair was seen, as in the case of the count's only offspring.

Virgil took after the countess, who also had fair hair. He was a merry-natured and outgoing boy. He had also inherited his mother's love of music. Normally well-behaved, he was being difficult today because his father had dragged him away from a much-loved piano lesson with his mother. "Piano? Pah! Since when is music worth anything here?" the count would always admonish his wife whenever she brought up hiring a proper piano teacher for their son.

"Any more bad behaviour from you, young man, and the piano goes, do you hear?" Young Virgil froze in his tracks. "Yes, Father." Obediently, he returned to his father's side with a scowl.

"Sir! Sir! His Majesty is here on a surprise tour!" A flustered manager came scampering down the corridor. "What the heck is he doing coming here? Young man, I want no trouble from you," Count Victor grumbled as he followed the manager. Virgil followed close behind.

"Your Majesty, you shouldn't have troubled yourself… A phone call would have sufficed."

"No trouble at all, old chap. I want you to take a look at this new automobile model design and tell me what you think…"

The blond boy stifled a yawn as his father talked shop with the red-bearded visitor. He has seen that face before in the newspapers clippings of the parades Mother kept. "If only we could go see a parade…" she would always add wistfully. "Why can't we, Mother?" Virgil would ask. His mother would always laugh sadly and ruffle his hair. The visitor didn't look very kingly now in his greasy overalls.

"Hmm, we'll be able to provide a computer chip to programme the car to park…" the count pondered over the blueprints, oblivious to his yawning son.

"Are you bored? Grownups can be so boring at times…" the boy looked up to see the little girl looking at him. She was dressed in a simple but clean blue pinafore dress and had her red hair tied in two pigtails. She wore black boots on her feet, similar to the type often worn by servants.

"How did you get here?" Virgil asked cautiously. He was home-schooled by his mother and had little chance to meet children his age. "My father brought me here. I'm Bridie. I just turned seven last month."

"I'm eight and my name is Virgil."

"Good afternoon, Virgil. I've never been to this town before… Can you show me around, please?"

"Okay…"

With that, Virgil took the Princess Bridget of Albion by her little hand and walked out of the factory as the king and count discussed their latest plans for the Albionian automobile industry.

A couple of minutes later….

"Hello…. Anyone home?" Bridie's voice echoed back at them. "Vents, they go everywhere here, even the places grownups don't know about… I've explored almost all of them," Virgil puffed up his chest in boyish pride. "Really?" The redhead clambered into the vent without a second thought. "Bridie… maybe we better go back…" Virgil fretted. "Not until you show me about," Bridie replied. "Do you have a secret garden here with pretty flowers and birds?"

"Flowers and birds? We have no flowers and birds here…" Left with no other option, Virgil climbed in after her. "But I know a place no grownups know of… You can see the whole town from there… Follow me, this way…" On their hands and knees, the children made their way along the network of shafts and vents. And promptly got lost.

Inky darkness enveloped them and a deathly silence. Virgil, pulling himself forward on his elbows, led the way as Bridie followed close behind. The vent shouldn't be this narrow… "Virgil, are you sure this is the way out?" She tugged on his ankle. "Trust me, Bridie," he tried to sound as confident as an eight-year-old boy could. In truth, he was terrified. He has heard those horror stories so many times of children getting lost in the maze of vents and shafts, getting trapped or falling to their deaths in some pit. He never dreamed it could happen to him. Did they make a wrong turn earlier? Maybe it was a left-turn and not a right he should have taken at the last junction…

"Virgil, I see light ahead on the right." Bridie called out suddenly.

"Sure?" Virgil asked as he strained to peer into the darkness. He couldn't see anything. "Trust me, as I trusted you." Bridie tugged on his ankle.

A few hundred yards down where the vent widened, they found light, pouring through a grill. The boy kicked it out with a clatter. Together, they emerged onto a landing, dusty, grimy and laughing.

"Sorry I got us lost, Bridie. We don't have any flowers here, will this do?" Virgil offered Bridie a rose folded from his white handkerchief.

"Why, thank you, Virgil… aren't you going to ask me for a dance too?" Bridie laughed and spun around on the deserted landing overlooking the Ghetto.

"Sure…" Virgil smiled awkwardly and took her hand. "I only know a bit of dancing…"

"I'll teach you then," a twinkle of mischief came to Bridie's blue eyes as she placed her hand on Virgil's shoulder. "It's one-two… one-two…"

"Er, Bridie… Is it alright for me to hold you like this?" Virgil flushed a beetroot red when Bridie took his arm and slipped it around her childish waist.

"This is a waltz. You are supposed to hold me like this… It is difficult to practise dancing with Papa, because he's so much taller than me…"

While the children danced blissfully, the factory was in an uproar.

"Virgil! Princess Bridget! Where are you?" The disappearance of the children has finally come to the notice of their fathers. The open air vent in a quiet corner of the factory had been spotted by a sharp-eyed engineer. It was too narrow to admit the smallest grownup. So the search parties traced the length of the vent network with the aid of blueprints, tapping and calling the children's names. To complicate matters, there many unmapped vents and shafts that branched off into long disused parts of the underground town.

Author's Notes:

Yes, Virgil and Bridie will be in a lot of trouble when their fathers finally find them. Poor Virgil is feeling so awkward having to waltz with Bridie, but he's too gentlemanly to decline.