I do not own Hellsing nor do I own 'Heirate Mich.'
…Marry Me…
...People see him creeping around the church, he has been alone for a year…
Electricity flooded through various wires as the groaning of a switch was flipped. Anticipation caused his blood to hum as he moved across the barren room. Boots clacking against cement, his eyes scanned the room out of paranoia. His gloved hand tightly grips the shovel and he strides with purpose.
It should have happened sooner, but there was always someone watching.
He would free her tonight; free her from the prison that ones so trusted left her to rot in. He would never leave her beneath the earth, she was his most loved creation.
Tonight was the night, the night that would never be forgotten.
Senses removed by sadness, he sleeps his every nights by her grave
Metal hit dirt and he pushed. The grass disturbed and earth moved as he applied pressure and pushed. He knew that this was wrong. His technique and this obsession, but it was something that couldn't be helped. Weakly, the dirt was tossed aside and the shovel feel from his hands.
By the bell sleeps a stone that I alone can read…red rooster upon a fence was your heart at one time…
'Seras Victoria…'
The name was whispered in his slightly dulled mind as his eyes traced the stone. Hand reaching out he couldn't feel the tombstone with his hands gloved. Kneeling back he grasped the shovel and began his task.
Tonight was the night…
The night he would see her.
Fear skewered upon the fence, I go digging every night…to see the face that smiled for me…
It had been years and fear grasped his heart like a disease. The memories of her face were beginning to fade. A new resolve, maybe the same, and he pushed the shovel into the dirt deeper.
'Deeper dig, deeper dig…only a few more feet.'
Thoughts of love never been danced throughout his mind as the shovel removed another layer. Dirt began a pile as he kept on digging.
There by the bells I spend my night, between the snails and lonely animal…in the day I run after the night, you escaped me a second time…
"Heirate Mich," he whispers his voice hums an aged old tune. "Heirate Mich."
He was deeper now, boots resting upon a thin layer now. The shovel was brought down once more and a clang resounded through the night. Dropping to his knees his hands smear the dirt across the smooth wooden planes.
With my hands I dig deep to find what I missed so much…
Hands gripping tightly he raised the shovel and brought it down. Splinters of wood emerged and repeated, the banging of metal, the splintering of wood eased his mind. A hole and his eyes glimpsed pale flesh. Harder he hits and faster become his movements before the hole is wide enough. The shovel was thrown out of the hole and to the side. Dropping to his knees he gripped the splintered edges of the coffin and broke off random pieces.
The moon was in its most beautiful dress as I kissed your cold mouth…
A twisted smile graces his pale features that were porcelain in the moonlight. He gently cradled her form, her corpse frail from age, her skin tender like paper. Raising her head he splayed his fingers in her hair, short and golden. A gently wish as he lowers his face and breathes his life across her lips. Gentle brush and their lips met, her cold and lifeless lips mashed beneath his thinned ones.
I take you tenderly by the arm but your skin rips like paper, parts are falling…you escape again…
Her form is laid beside the pile of dirt that once trapped her so far away. Nothing would keep them apart. Removing a glove he trails his fingers across her lips, over the mounds of her chest, and to the foreign object bound within.
"Marry me," he whispers against her lips.
His hand upon the broken piece of metal traced the jagged edges. It was amazing what such a small object could do to a powerful creature.
So I take what's left…
His hand gripped the metal and he pulled. Blood thick with age followed the object with a thin trail. His hand threw the metal that once was a piece of a sword was thrown into the mound of dirt. His bare hand covered the wound smearing the thick blood. The wind howled shifting their hair and fluttering her lashes.
"Love," he murmured as he reached up and caressed her face leaving a smeared trail of blood.
The night is hot…and we are naked…
Eyelids fluttering a groan piercing the night and his smile widened, perfectly white teeth displayed. A crimson gaze flutters open a breath not needed is not drawn in as the gaze focuses on the man above.
"How long?"
"Long enough," was his reply.
Her lips pull back in a grin revealing dainty fangs. Lifting his finger smeared with her blood to his lips he covers it with his mouth. A slight twitch in his eye and he releases the finger displaying a cut. Crimson wells and he reaches out and smears his blood against her lips. Her tongue runs across her pales lips and she smirks as she sits up. Their lips meet and she whispers.
"We have much work ahead of us Doctor Avondale."
The cursed rooster greets the morning…I hacked his head off…
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