Abraham sat on a stone that was both flat and large enough to be comfortable. He held young Arthur on his lap, checking to make sure that the toddler was secured and unlikely to wriggle free and find his way into the pond. Shielding his eyes for a moment, he also enjoyed the view of the wild ducks which had enthralled his son, who now sat quietly watching with round eyes. Quacks and chirps, as well as the coarser squawks of geese, came from the communal pool, where splashes, dives, and fluttering wings were common in this warm season. One tree, out of many that kept watch over the pond, stood behind them, but its shade was just outside their reach, having favored a dry seat over a cooler, damper one. Birds in the branches twittered, as if to compete with the water fowl and their more energetic and endearing entertainment. The songbirds acted as the choir Victorian poets would abandon civilization to seek, in order to become immersed in the beauty which accompanied the natural splendor of the world around them. Abraham played with the child in his lap, gently holding Arthur's arms and using them to point to the different birds that skidded over the water or disappeared for a time beneath the surface of the pond only to reappear some distance away.
"Arthur, what are those? Hm?" He smiled, warmth in his face and tender love in his voice. Young blue eyes stared at the birds and then looked at his arm when his father made it point at one particular bird. "What is that, Arthur?"
Arthur was silent, as if the experience had commanded his full attention and he was incapable of breaking away from his mute observation to add description to the scene.
"Duck. That is a duck, Arthur." The man made the little hands wave. "Duck. Do you like ducks, Arthur? Do you like it when they swim and quack?" He chuckled when the boy let out a sudden giggle, as his wonder turned to joy. "Can you quack like a little duck, Arthur?"
The boy squirmed, emitting another giggle, a little more mischievous now as he slid down his father's lap and was restrained by the hands that held his arms. Abraham righted the boy and made an effort to tame him. But Arthur wanted to chase after the ducks, and his squirming became wilder as his laughter escalated. He shrieked with delight as Abraham sighed and lifted him, plopping the boy in his lap again - the difficult little child who immediately arched his back and renewed his endeavor to escape.
"Duckies! Duckies!" he shrieked and laughed, startling Van Hellsing who paused, conflicted with frustration and pride. Pride won out and he drew the boy towards himself with a grin and then held him close, allowing Arthur to stand on the rock as the two looked out at the pound, their height a little closer to being even.
"Do you like the little ducks, or the big ducks?"
Arthur squirmed and didn't respond immediately. Then he simply giggled, "Ducks! Ducks!" So Abraham's question was never answered.
"We have songs for little ducks, Arthur. Do you know the songs about little ducks?"
"Nooo." shaking his head, with golden hair catching the sunlight, Arthur ceased to squirm for a moment, as if he had finally taken interest in what his father was saying. Abraham could never tell how much the child could understand when he spoke. A child's mind was a curiosity - unable to communicate but always observing, as if they had opinions that they would never share – their perspective of the world was a mystery.
"Alle uns′re Enten
Schwimmen auf der See"
Arthur giggled at the funny language his father sometimes adopted. German was his father's made up language, which he used when he wanted to be silly.
"Schwimmen auf der See
Kopf in dem Wasser,
Schwanz in der Höh."
Abraham repeated the song as the day lengthened. He released his child who swooped down to torment the birds who nibbled at the grass, sending them fleeing to the pond, quacking out in distress and annoyance. But Arthur was so proud of his accomplishment, that he, one little boy, had intimidated so many creatures. Perhaps it was part of the Hellsing blood, finding pleasure in power – a feeling Abraham controlled, balancing it with humbling beliefs that transformed his work into a noble service, and not a war in which again and again he rose from the flames, blood, and ash victorious. He was a servant, not a vanquisher.
*~*~::..+..::~*~*
Years passed and the little terror grew out of his mischievous ways only to grow back into them when he reached adolescence. No father could have grinned and laughed off the frustration Arthur's antiques created now that he had reached his fifteenth year. Abraham often found himself holding his head and messaging his pulsing temples after a stressful argument with his son. "Impossible. An impossible child. Was kann ich tun? What can I do? When he was young, it was 'Oh, the boy is precious.' Bah. Now it is- 'Son of a gun. This boy does not learn.' The boy wants to be treated like a man. He calls himself a man, yet he acts like a child! Stupid boy. Mein Dummkopf. Mein Gott! I am too old to follow him wherever he goes off to! The boy and his girls- Bah. And I send the vampire to watch him-" Abraham made a sound of disgust and released his head, admitting that he could not assuage his throbbing headache.
He left his office to retire to his study, perhaps to read – if his head would allow it – and drink whatever his son had not stolen from the cellar already. "Dummkopf. He takes the best wine for those girls. Bah – no better than prostitutes, paid with good wine (my good wine!) and pretty trinkets. They aren't worth a glass – they should make an honest living. Some of that wine is older than these children! Ack… Arthur should not steal from his own father-" The man would continue to mutter into the night until his wine had calmed him, and a record player had allowed him to be lulled by Schubert. A book lay on his lap as the man passed into a state of contentment.
…
A mile off from the Hellsing estate, his vampire's night was not as peaceful.
*~*~::..+..::~*~*
The ducks were absent, and the birds had retired, allowing the crickets and other night creatures to take their place, creating the audible atmosphere that accompanied the shadowy setting – in nature, on the water, beneath the moon, detached from all authority as a boy and a girl laughed with the pleasant effect of Van Hellsing's red wine – drinking it straight from the bottle they shared. The row boat was slapped by the water when the adolescents became louder and moved about. They ate some of the cheese and sausages Arthur had also tucked away into a basket before slipping off to meet up with his shapely, blue-eyed lass. She had some Scottish blood in her (or was it Irish? He couldn't recall exactly-) that seemed, to Arthur, to give her a robust character - high spirited, sharp and witty, as well as beautiful. Quiet girls were too reserved. They were too good. They wanted to be saints, or like the Virgin Mother.
What a waste of youth, Arthur thought, swallowing the wine as a man stranded in the Sahara might take his first mouthful of water. Though he floated upon a pond and was not starved of any physical nourishment, his spirit thirsted for something, and the wine appeared to appease him temporarily. In the darkness Arthur felt the burning eyes that watched him, an obscure sensation that would fade and return, and he grinned and took another swig to gloat over his victory. The vampire could not cross the water to reach them. He had outsmarted the No Life King – he, the great Arthur Hellsing, rich and powerful, yet to have reached his prime. Arthur could not see the boyish frame, the baby face and the ruddy cheeks girls adored. He thought they loved him for being a man. They loved him because he was rich, adventurous, and pretty to look at.
Alucard scoffed at the hollow pride the boy showed. So inadequate – the child could not manage to locate him in the darkness – while even with the trees and the sounds of the night cloaking him, Van Hellsing would have located the vampire in an instant. At this range, Hellsing would have sensed his demonic presence – trained and sharp as his senses were. Arthur had inherited his father's talent, but he was not developing that talent, allowing it to remain merely above average - so he was still wholly inadequate. Only if the vampire positioned himself a few yards away from the boy would Arthur be able to locate him. Worthless, worthless, stupid child – and too proud…he was much too proud for one so lacking. Alucard scoffed again, watching as Arthur pointed to the trees across the pond and bragged about his victory over the "stupid servant" his father "always" ordered to stalk him.
"But I'm just too…original – he can't keep up with me. He never guessed that I would use his inability to swim against him." The smug boy grinned at his date.
The girl agreed and slipped the bottle from Arthur's hands – he hadn't been sharing it properly, and she wanted an equal portion. She masked her aggressiveness with a devious smile that made Arthur pause and watch her with a child-like, star-struck gaze. So easy to manage…but this trait seemed cute to her. She rose from where she had been sitting across from Arthur, opting to sit beside him, smirking at the boy's reaction when she hooked her free arm around him.
But abruptly a squawk was ripped from the cuddling love birds, the girl letting out a scream as a tree crashed into the water beside them, twigs splintering and water rising in a spray that peppered the youths. Both stared, dumbfound and disturbed as the black-clad creature carefully made its way towards them. The trunk would rock – though the tree had reached the other side of the pond, it was not secure. However, Alucard's movements denied the existence of this instability and his closeness to the water.
Arthur was astounded by the demon's actions. Vampires can't swim, but they aren't supposed to be able to cross water without dirt from their grave! How was his father's slave managing to approach him, balancing above one of his many banes?
Alucard stood on a branch that was almost submerged in water, his boots actually becoming damp – but the vampire was unfazed. He observed Arthur's gape with a cold stare that made the girl shift uncomfortably. She clutched at the wine – beginning to fear what consequences she would soon have to face – the emotion was anxiety instead of guilt.
"Running water." They were quiet after Alucard uttered these words. The row boat rocked and the water continued to breathe with the movement the tree had given it. Water slapped against wood and played with the leaves of the tree.
"This water is stationary."
Now Arthur understood what was being said, and he scowled at the vampire as if the error had been his fault. But then the boy's smugness returned as he stood. "Well, that can be amended. You still can't swim." With that he dove into the water – perhaps encouraged by his impaired judgment – fully clothed. The boat rocked dangerously and the girl protested.
Arthur surfaced, grinning again as he watched the murky shape of the boat and Alucard's figure standing behind it. "Come get me if you can!"
The insolence soured the creature's face further, but it was too dark for Arthur to see this response. Averse to the sudden silence, Arthur decided to return his attention to his date.
"Geneve! Come join me!" He splashed, continuing to tread water. He imagined for a moment that his arm brushed against some slick surface.
Oh. So there's fish in here? It amused him while he waited for the girl to jump in.
Geneve scowled at the fool, beginning to recover. "I can't swim. I told you I can't swim. You don't listen, Arthur."
Arthur frowned as well. "Well that's unfortunate. You mean you can't even float?"
She ignored him now and the silence returned – broken when Alucard extended a hand towards the girl.
He was a little perturbed when instead of handing him the bottle the girl gave him her own hand. Since she possessed the bottle, he guided the girl from the boat onto the limb. The water that soaked her shoes as the branch sunk by a degree upset the girl, so she was lifted to be carried rather than risk a fit of panic disturbing the unsteady bridge too much.
Arthur was aghast. "Put her down!"
The cold stare returned. "Will you supervise me to ensure I successfully return her to the manor, or will you be staying?"
"You wouldn't dare, you cretin. As if my father would permit this-" But Alucard ignored the boy, as if listening to his future master was beneath him, and was already picking his way back to solid ground. Arthur was infuriated.
When Arthur reached the tree and laid one hand one the trunk and another on a branch before the vampire and his baggage, the demon halted, observing the threat with his own temper flaring. However, the girl objected for him.
"No-! No Arthur, please don't!" She cried, genuine terror in her voice. She didn't like being carried by this cold man, and she hated and feared the water. "I can't swim! Please Arthur! I can't swim!"
The tree shook. "Oh!" Came the scream, but before more could be done, the girl saved herself by pronouncing her hatred for the boy.
Arthur cowered at the threat. "No- No Geneve, you don't mean it."
"I hate you. I do hate you! Now let me go home! I can't stand to look at you!"
The exaggeration bought their safe passage to dry land, and dragged a reluctant Arthur home - dripping with teeth chattering and carrying a wet basket. If not for the constant irritation of the boy's wines and the girl's haughty chastisement, Alucard would have considered her to be useful.
Geneve was sent off with a pair of Hellsing's men to make sure her drive home was safe.
Arthur was brought to his father, who looked about as reluctant to approach the subject of punishment as his son. Abraham touched the bottle that stood on his desk and then sighed, watching nothing. Arthur was stubbornly silent. The vampire waited in the corner of the office.
"Arthur… I cannot let you run about like a wild thing-"
Alucard hissed to himself when Arthur interrupted Van Hellsing.
"I'm not wild! I don't want to be locked in here! You might be content to live in this dungeon, but I'm not! I'm my own person, and not a child!"
"Arthur-"
"If you will deny me the right to be a soldier and to fight in the war, then you cannot deny me happiness!"
This boy! "The law would not allow you to fight, Arthur." The sigh spoke of the fatigue this exhausted topic brought Hellsing. "And this war is purposeless. The pretty tales you've heard are fabrications. War has lost the last of its honor, the remnants of glory have been tarnished by the weapons we have created. Men go to their deaths, to disease, to horrors, Arthur-"
"Why? Why do you always say this? I can do what I like with my life! I don't want to be some sort of exterminator who works in the shadows. I want my achievements to be visible! I want to people to know what I am capable of!"
"Mein Gott." Abraham groaned, and moved as if to turn away as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a wince.
"You speak like a German!" Arthur burst out, his voice lashing at his father who stood, looking at his son, stunned by his words as the barrage continued. "What? Is that why you won't let me become a soldier? You're a German sympathizer!"
"Fool." A growl emerged from the forgotten corner. Arthur flinched and then threw all of his anger at the vampire with a glower.
"No." Now the hardened man Alucard knew, Abraham inflicted his own glare upon the demon, silencing his vampire. The man continued stiffly, receiving his son's eyes. "You're not of age."
"But if I wait the war will be over! It'll be a swift victory- They say-"
"And they lie, Arthur. Or they tell only half of the truth. Or they do not know what I know – of the machines, the weapons that have been produced and improved with time, the destruction that will be inflicted. A gun before would wound a man, now a gun can tear him to pieces. It is possible to blow an existence into oblivion, with the technology we possess today."
The boy wasn't listening, still disgusted with his father's way of speaking – his accent. "Don't tell me you're actually a German and not a Dutchman like you claim-"
"Arthur. Listen and be reasonable. There is no reason to bear hatred for any participant in this war-"
"Shut up! You are a sympathizer and you won't let your son fight for his country! 'Once a German always a German!'"
A snarl left Arthur jarred after this outburst, and his taut nerves made him retreat from the vampire, staring at the bared fangs – ivory stakes ready to crush bone, tear flesh, and draw blood from his arteries. The malice and desire to kill chilled the boy as blood drained from his ruddy cheeks, leaving them pale with fear.
Abraham intervened with a similar fury when Alucard began to advance towards his son. Then all attention was focused on the outraged beast and the furious master as one was berated and the other cursed the boy – earning a blow that would remind the demon of his place, before being sent away like a reprimanded dog. Arthur was allowed to escape punishment, locking himself in his room until he woke in the morning.
Alle Meine Entchen - all my ducklings.
In Dracula, Abraham Van Hellsing spoke German - don't really remember if there was a reason, I think he might've spent his childhood in Germany or been exposed to it - I don't know if my brain is making this up or if I read it on some random article on the internet. He was Dutch but spoke German and had a German accent (he said Mein Gott in the book ~ translates to 'My God').
I used the 1890's version of the song - what Abraham sang to little Arthur (when he was cuter).
Today's version is:
Alle meine Entchen
Schwimmen auf dem See, - X2
Köpfchen in das Wasser,
Schwänzchen in die Höh
I think it translates to:
All my ducklings
swimming on the lake
swimming on the lake
heads in the water
'butts' in the air
"Once a German always a German." was taken from a WWI propaganda poster printed in Great Britain.
I might add to this story - I know what I'd do with it, but I don't know if I want to spend time on this rather than on one of the other stories I'm trying to finish.