Chapter I: Reminiscence
"I would like to ask you something."
"Go on."
"Have you ever thought of asking me to drink your blood? Have you ever thought of mixing your blood with mine?" His words...masculine as well as taunting could be heard even now as she sat quietly within the confinement of the small enclosed room that served as her prison. A hot meal as it had the night before lingered on a burgundy clothed table. Dim candlelight flickered from the slowly melting ivory candles that were a means of decor as well as light for the cell room. On the fairly hard mattress of the single bed where she sat, her brilliant sapphire eyes gazed intently in the direction of the wall across from her almost partially as if expecting of something, if not as if in the deepest of thoughts.
"I have received orders from her majesty." Integra recalled herself responding to him as they had stood within some of the darker corridors of the Hellsing family home. Such had been the last day she had lingered within those walls before the coming of the vile abomination Incognito, the betrayal of an organization member, and the disbanding of the Hellsing Organization as a whole. In what would have seemed a fleeting moment the world upon which she had been born had been turned upside down and had vanished. Yet, she remained as it would seem she always had even in the most dire of times. After all the loss, Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing was not counted amongst the casualties of the once proud Hellsing Organization. Even within the silence of the empty room, she could hear Alucard's laughter from that day as he had mocked her.
"Would you like a taste of my blood before you go?" Those had been some of the last words the two of them had exchanged when they had been truly alone. A faint gleam lingered within her almond shaped spheres as her gaze ventured toward the burning candlelight of the candlestick that lingered on the small table. As always Alucard had been jesting as well as confident. Some things never changed, even if few. Though in truth, she very much doubted and lacked the loss of determination that the Hellsing family would cease to exist entirely. Their work was not yet finished. She had not graced him with answer. Even now she could not give him an answer were he to have called upon her again with such idle bantering.
No matter, the first priority was to pick up the pieces and move on. She knew not the hour... though the pressing darkness of the cell in which was not present during the daylight hours brought about the certainty of the promise of nightfall. Many a night since the losses of Ferguson amongst various other casualties of the Hellsing family had left her deprived of sleep. Her eyes were heavy. The thin stem of a partially burning cigar lingered in between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand as she brought the butt to be smashed into a small pewter ashtray on the nearing end table. Lowering herself, she lay back on the thin matted bed. The monocle of which often lingered just above the bridge of her nose on over one of her azure eyes rested
next to the ashtray.
Long pale golden colored hair fell in tresses onto the sheets of her hard bed. A suit of olive green accompanied by a white buttoned blouse and matching green tie covered the lithe, petite
curvatures of Sir Integra's frame. Bandages still lingered around the swan like curve of her neck. Faint hints of dried blood that once held a crimson hue now resembled more of a deep
burgundy like that of the table cloth where her meals were placed. Two ivory buttons of her blouse were loosened allowing some of the cool air of the cell to cool her body as well as allowed some of the tension in her body to ease.
Her breathing slowed. Sleep too soon followed. A journey then ensued...one of which even Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing would not have expected...not even in her wildest dreams.