She never feared me the way she was supposed to. Inspiring overt fear in others is not just something I am used to, it is my birthright. No matter how strong, there has yet to be a female who has been able to face me without fear in her eyes.
But then, I suppose she would say that lack of fear is her birthright.
Would say? I can read her mind. She does think that.
You should have seen her when she was younger. No matter how bloodied I was by a night of fighting and/or feeding, she would run if she saw me. Not away as any sane being would, but towards me. Some well-intentioned fool tried to scoop her up out of harm's way once. She hissed her displeasure as she always has – and likely always will despite the lectures she's been given. It was a miscalculation on her part; due to her missing front teeth she spit all over the man.
But the spirit the little hellcat showed during her punishment...that was something to see.
Then one day she was seventeen instead of seven and she started fearing me for all the wrong reasons. As if I cared about the pale imitation of a love bite concealed under a turtleneck or a beer drunk to satisfy a dare. As if that was the worst her world had to offer.
"Wait until she's eighteen," I was told said time after time. "Then she'll be old enough to know about the monsters that really go bump in the night. Then she'll be old enough to learn how to fight them." As if she weren't descended from monsters herself. As if she'd ever needed an excuse to exercise her powers.
Horny young men were the least of my worries.
I waited, though not out of any sense of duty. I waited because I enjoyed the nights when she'd seek me out. "I'm as much a part of Hellsing as any of the men! More so. I want to fight."
"Go ask your mother." Her frustration was sweet to feed on where her fear was pathetically weak.
Eighteen was too late. Apparently the females in this household are too dried up to remember what eighteen was like. By eighteen she knew everything and could do anything and saw no reason to stay.
Screw training. If the No Life King trained himself, then so can I.
She has always put too much faith in her blood and the few parlor tricks she's puzzled out for herself. The parlor tricks might scare away boys intent on a quick backseat screw, but once she stepped out from under my shadow that would have been the least of her worries.
"Alucard. Did you hear me? We've had word of her."
We've constantly had word of her. The incompetent fools out in the field are the ones who try to entrap her before she's prepared to play nicely. It's no wonder that she keeps running. That she continues to be in danger – and to be a danger – is hardly my fault. But what can I do in the end? She is still of me, of my blood. Hissing and spitting will only keep enemies at bay for so long and I would know if she'd learned how to do anything else. "Where?"
"Prague. Apparently she's still tinkering with her theory linking freaks and golems." Cigar smoke rises into the night air.
Apparently. "Your wit remains as sharp as ever."
The words might hint at insolence, but there's not enough for her to rebuke me for. How forgiving my master becomes when young are involved. Not even she can escape all the frailties peculiar to mortals…
"You'll go?"
Doubt isn't as satisfying as fury would be, but I'm not hungry for anyone's emotions except a certain wayward child's. And even then, while I may enjoy the predicaments she gets herself into, I can only allow her to go so far before stepping in.
"That's not the question you should be asking."
The question that should be asked is if I'll bring her home and then kill her, or kill her right straightaway. It'd certainly make the trip home easier.
Author's Note: Hi there. I'm rather new to the Hellsing fandom. I've watched the anime series and read through the first four manga.
However, what I lack in manga, I've made up for by devouring fanfic and fan art. I'm fascinated by the concept of Alucard having some sort of fatherly role in a child's life. I mean, the man is clearly unstable. He's too sadistic. But he's also fascinated by the foibles of others. What in the world would any child who looked to him for guidance see in him and what would they receive from him? And what role would love play in the relationship and what form would it take?
Forgive any OOCness. Even if I had a good handle on the character (which I'm not sure I do) this entire little story of mine is extremely AU. That's also the reason I left direct parentage purposely vague and saw no reason to involve shippage since this father/child dynamic would be the center of the story with everything else happening almost peripherally.
Please, review. Flames will be ignored, but constructive criticism, advice, links to sites that might be helpful will all be read and considered thoughtfully.