Many years had passed, and Integra had finally wedded. It was a pleasant relationship at first, but there were many skeletons in the closet; or rather dungeons, left unspoken of. If the Hellsing legacy were to continue, then an heir was to be created; but the blonde still felt displeased with the idea. On this night she sat at a freshly polished wood table. It was long enough to see twelve guests total; two at either end of the table and five on each side. The Iron Maiden herself was placed at the very end, her husband at the other. Both of whom were garbed in freshly pressed business suits. Many times before he had pressed the matter of her slipping into something more feminine every once in a while; but she had yet to oblige. Not even in the solitude of their personal chambers did the woman wear anything revealing, gentle or striking in the least.

"Integra," the man said curiously. A crystal glass of wine sat before either of them, the bottle in the middle of the grand table and out of reach. "What is the meaning of this? Am I no longer good enough as your husband to sit at your side?" His tone wasn't accusing, but rather curious and filled with careful confusion. He had already sipped from his glass; whereas Integra had yet to touch her own. The blonde considered his words, a gloved finger carefully gracing the edge of the crystal. "Not quite." Over the couple of years the two had been married, she had yet to tell him the specifics of her job; and for some odd reason the man didn't know of the Hellsing legacy on his own – and she had no intention of telling him, until now. He was charming, in his own way. Both of them were of noble decent and each had their own personal occupations. Marrying Frederick wasn't a total loss. They did enjoy what little company they spent together, and understood the boundaries set. Integra liked the amount of space she received from the man – seeing as he wasn't clingy or nosy. In fact, his work consisted of managing an estate out in the more rural area of England as well as managing deals made between various businesses; most of which were international corporations. He was often gone for long spans of time; but never did it bother either of them. Every now and then when separated, one would call the other once or twice every two weeks or so. He never pried and neither did she. But Integra was finally thinking of when she would reach her limits and if the marriage would work out once the truth was revealed; and whether or not a continuation of the Hellsing legacy would really, truly be in store.

Silence fell heavier than a velvet curtain around and over them; but he waited patiently for her to speak. Was it love? The blonde couldn't decide if it was or wasn't. She certainly had feelings for the man, otherwise she wouldn't have bothered; but perhaps with her experiences and line of work, Integra had learned not to become too fond of any particular being. For this, she felt a small twinge of guilt. With that gnawing inside of her and what she was about to confess, the woman raised the crystal glass to her lips and sipped from the bittersweet contents. She could already feel the warmth of the alcoholic beverage jump like small sparks along her tongue as it passed down her throat. "We need to talk. I have kept quite a bit from you but you never asked; therefore I never told."

Frederick remained silent, his expression pleasant unbiased. His silence was not for a lack of interest, but kept more so in respect for the woman's words. After a heartbeat or so, she continued. "You know my name, but you do not know of the legacy behind it. I, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing am the last remaining heir to the Hellsing legacy. The organization I run specializes in the extermination of monster of the undead." She paused, choosing her words carefully before continuing, "Beneath this manor lies the trump card to its success." Once more silence fell, heavy and now with the truth behind her name revealed, it was enough to suffocate. If the man was bothered by the information given to him, he did not reveal it. Like Integra herself, he was a perfectly composed man with the ability to mask his emotions alongside his thoughts. Pushing himself back from the table, he moved and took the few paces that would place him beside the woman. If she had been wearing a gown of sorts, he would have described her as fierce and regal; but she was garbed in her usual business attire, and seemed more like a viper ready to strike on a dime than a prideful and graceful lioness.

Placing one hand on the back of her chair, he used his free one to gently lift her chin so they were nearly face to face. Even as spouses, Integra had abstained from anything more than the exchange of lips and close contact within hugging. Frederick had no quarrels with this and did not pressure her to change. Now he leaned in closer, pressing his lips to the blonde's ear. The woman smelled of expensive cigars, herbal tea and a hint of mint. "My dearest Integra, I know all about your organization, how it runs, whom runs it, whom it truly works for and no I don't mean God, and just what secrets it has." Usually dispassionate, frigid eyes now widened with genuine surprise and horror. "I didn't have to do any snooping to know these things, my love. You see, I only told you the about the sugar, not the tea itself." He used this analogy, though it was clearly unnecessary. They both knew what he meant. What wasn't registering however, was how he had obtained the valuable information she had kept from him; but he was prepared to tell her without the question being presented.

"You could say I have my… Resources. We are enemies, Integra. You've brought a foe into your home, the place of your own sanctuary and one day, your demise; but…" Frederick cut off short, turning the woman's face to his own as his lips brushed against hers. It wasn't a kiss, but it wasn't quite short of being one either. "I do have feelings for you. You are the perfect woman; independent, strong, able, stubborn and noble. You do what is best for your business, for the men whom so willingly throw their lives away to do your dirty work. We are alike, you and I." His hand cupped her face briefly, caressing her flawless almond skin before he leaned away. The man moved back to his side of the table, finished the last of his wine and moved to the kitchen to put it away. After doing so, he glanced back to his wife and smirked. It could be described as deceiving, playful, and admiring all at once.

"Come to bed soon, my love. A leader cannot properly command her men without proper rest."

With that, he dismissed himself to their chambers. Integra was left in the dim lighting of the dining room, her heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird. It tasted like fear, and felt like fear; but the chief of Hellsing refused to address it as such. For a long while she remained, staring at the contents of her wineglass as if within it there would be answers. Her plans, her strategies would need to change; and an heir no longer seemed like a rational idea. Not that it had to begin with. What new game had she become a player in now, and what awaited her efforts? Would war rage within her own walls; and would they crumble under the pressure of an enemy within them; or would she fight back with a new reason, a new determination to prove her place? And her last thought of the evening, webbed with the grogginess of sleep was something between divorce and death.