Author's Notes: A humble tribute to add to the depressingly small pile of Seras and Pip stories. I'll admit that coming up with fully fledged stories for these two is hard for me too, so I can't say I blame others. That said, I always liked the idea of Seras as an olde tyme maiden working in a poor provincial town, with the Wild Geese as lodged soldiers that she clashes with, but I could never think of a story to go with the setting. Then, the answer came to me while watching the opening song to Beauty and the Beast.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Beauty and the Beast. They're both excellent stories, though.
In a country ravished by war, Seras Victoria presided in one of the few provinces untouched by the marching drums or exploding guns. While they were much poorer from rationing crops and animals for troops, and trade from other provinces had declined from the battles far away, they still lived in relative peace and quiet. If one did not wish to pay attention to the news, they could go about their days without even thinking of the wars their nation was part of.
On a clear summer morning, Seras stepped out of her little room to go to market. She admired the birds singing and the creek babbling as she passed, and swung her little hand basket as she walked. She wore a simple, yellow French peasant's dress. Typical of the fashion, it consisted of a thick petticoat under an ankle-length skirt, a long apron over said skirt, a rather tight bodice to accentuate her womanly figure, and long, loose sleeves. However, she put a slight English spin to the French fashion by keeping the chemise tied all the way up her neck and her thick sleeves covering her wrists rather than being pulled up to her elbows.
All in all, she looked to be a sweet, beautiful girl in a sweet, beautiful scene. She had the rare combination of looking innocent and childlike, yet voluptuous and womanly. Her large eyes were clear blue and her pale face as sweet and innocent as it was pretty. She smiled dreamingly as she walked.
"Little town…" she sang quietly under her breath, for she was the singing type, "It's a quiet village. Every day… like the one before… Little town, full of little people, waking up to say…"
Right on cue, the shops and windows and doors all opened to people starting their day.
"Bonjour!" they called.
"Bonjour!"
"Bonjour!"
"Bonjour!"
"Bonjour!" Seras grinned.
To herself, she said, "There goes the baker, with his tray like always. The same old bread and rolls to sell," yet, she smiled as she said it. She loved the safety, security, and familiarity of the scene. "Every morning just the same since the morning that I came to this dear provincial town…"
"Good morning, Seras Victoria!" the baker exclaimed. He was a big, boisterous man with a booming voice.
"Good morning, monsieur!" she cried.
"Where you off to?"
"The market," she replied, "I just found the most wonderful recipe of honey cakes with apricots and…"
"That's nice," he interrupted. "MARIE! THE BAGGETTES! HURRY UP!"
She'd hoped to discuss it with him since he was a baker, but pocketed her recipe book, shrugged and walked away. Oh yeah. After enjoying the beautiful morning, Seras suddenly remembered why she didn't fully like living in this town. The people.
"Look, there she goes. That girl is strange, no question," two gossiping older women said to each other.
"Just look, the way she walks and stares? Dazed and distracted, can't you tell?"
Seras stood straighter and walked with a more focused gaze, though it got criticisms too.
"Acting like she's all above the crowd…" said some others.
"When her blood's as common as any of ours."
"No denying, she's a funny girl, that Seras Victoria…"
Whether she heard them or not, Seras never gave any outward impression, as she hopped onto the back of a horse-drawn wagon through town. She smiled and watched people go about their day with genuine interest and fondness.
"Bonjour!" the wagon-driver called to a young lady walking by.
"Good day!" the young lady answered.
"How is your family?" he enquired.
"Bonjour," said a beautiful young lady to the butcher.
"Good day," he said, openly ogling over her breasts.
"How is your wife?" she smiled coyly, turning away.
The butcher's very large shrew of a wife then glared and smacked him on the head with a rolling pin.
Over at the chicken farmer's vendor, a much harried, over-weight housewife struggling with six squirming babies cried desperately, "I need six eggs!"
"That's too expensive," a gruff man said to the potter.
Despite its flaws, Seras enjoyed the goings of provincial life. And she hoped off the wagon and into the her desired shop with a flip of her skirt.
On the other side of town, the first several Wild Geese filed into town. They were all scruffy, hang-dog fellows still in their military garb, since they hadn't had a decent place to sleep in days. They'd hitched rides on hay wagons as they were dirt broke, and strange weather had separated them over the night's journey, but they and the rest would soon be here. It was for the best, though. If the entire unit had filed in at once, it would cause more of a stir in the village proper anyway. They knew their presence would cause quite a stir once the people realized how many there were, but in the mean time they were taking in their surroundings.
"Jesus, just look at this place," one of them said, "This has got to be the quaintest village I've ever seen."
"You'd think there was no war going on, the way these bastards carry on."
"Eh, they don't worry about that because it's far enough away that it doesn't affect them," their captain said, casually lighting a cigarette. "'Out of sight, out of mind.'"
His men sniggered. "Heh, they're going to find out soon enough."
"They won't be able to ignore it once the emperor's troops make it here."
"Eh, they could end up going by way of the pass instead of the valley," their captain replied, "Either way, we 'ave some time to kill until the main army makes it our… way…"
Their Captain trailed off as he spoke. In the midst of the market—walking right towards them—was one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen. In a sea of rough, coarse, bustling, shouting peasants, all bartering and shipping goods to and fro, this one little girl slipped fluidly through the crowd with a smile on her face and a book in her hands. She had the largest, clearest blue eyes, the softest, palest skin, and wore a clean, simple yellow dress that accentuated her clean, simple beauty.
For the first time in his life, Pip stood speechless as a pretty girl walked towards him.
"Bonjour, Monsieur," she said cheerfully, without fully looking up, and walked right past him.
Again, Pip didn't say anything. He just watched her as she blended back into the crowd, like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
His silence didn't escape his men's notice.
"Jesus, Captain. What was that all about?"
"What's the matter? Pussy cat got your tongue?"
"Feh, you wish," he scowled, lighting another cigarette. He played it cool and casual, yet at the first opportunity he asked an old man who that was.
"Hmph. Funny you should ask me, when I don't think I know who you are!"
"Eh, us? We're new here. Just passing through. Tell me, you know anything about that girl?"
The man looked. "Oh, that?" He burst into laughter, "That's Seras Victoria! Hope you aren't planning to woo her, young man, 'cause you'd be wasting your time!"
"You're be better off chasing some other bird," said of the old man's, "That girl's funny."
Pip raised a quizzical brow while inhaling deeply from his cigarette. "Funny, how?"
"Not funny 'ha ha,' funny 'queer.'"
Pip quirked a lecherous brow. "Really?"
"Yeah, there's no doubt that girl's peculiar."
"I don't think she's very well," said another, tapping his head.
"Yeah," grunted another, "she's quite a puzzle to the rest of us, that Seras Victoria."
On further questioning, Pip found that the girl possessed several oddities that the town found… off. She was English, yet lived in France, despite the countries' bitter rivalry. She carried herself with graces and airs of a young lady, yet she was as common as the rest of them. She had moved to the town almost three years before, yet she was still not part of any crowd. A few men had made her offers of marriage over the last few years, yet she had turned them all down.
Pip felt his interest pique at this. So, the girl was beautiful but didn't want to marry, eh? Sounded like just his type.
"Man, crazy beauty and an outcast to boot?" one of his men said, "Did Christmas come early this year?"
"No, stupid. They say she doesn't want to be wooed, remember?"
"Pfft! That's what they all say until they find a dish they like."
No need to go further into that conversation.
"Why do you think she's so prudish, anyway?"
"Probably some pious farmer's daughter or something."
The Geese smirked lecherously to one another. As mercenaries fighting in wars, they had often been lodged and quartered up in towns small farms and towns in or near where they were fighting. Men at arms were infamous for their "appetites," and many a strict farmer had tried to lock their self-professed "chaste" and "pious" daughters from them... yet, inevitably, the girls always welcomed the mercenaries into their rooms before night's end. Especially for their captain, who had the best looks and charm. They figured it would be the same for this girl. If any man could woo her, it was their captain.
The Captain's blood set a boil at the thought, and he leered after her. "I know who I'm bedding first."
His men smirked, "That's the spirit, Captain!"
On the outskirts of town, a small band of horsemen returned from a morning hunt. Of all of them, one man in particular stood out as a far superior horseman and hunter. He rode with far more skill than any of the others, and fired his bow and guns with the most precision and accuracy. He never missed a target. Though it was still early, he already had a large bundle of furs from that morning's hunt alone. Even after he had returned, dismounted, and straightened out his coat, he managed to easily shoot down a duck from a flock flying directly overhead. Several women swooned and fanned themselves at this.
His companion, a swarthy young man with yellow eyes, shot forward and easily caught it mid-air.
"FUCK YEAH! That's ten for ten, bro!" he cheered, stuffing the bird into a burlap sack.
"An easy score," the hunter replied carelessly, flipping his hair aside.
He was a tall and pale, with long blond hair tied together with a bow at the end, and elegantly dressed in an impeccable riding suit. Said suit consisted of knee-high riding boots, crème-colored riding pants, a suit top of sorts, and a long crème overcoat with tails. He also wore white riding gloves and a large top hat, though he deftly removed these and placed them on the saddle of his horse. He accepted praise from onlookers as his homage, and easily dismissed the stable boy who came to put his horse away with the wave of his hand.
"No, seriously, man, you're fucking made for this shit!"
"I know," he replied smugly, and strutted away.
"No shit, bro," his brother said, lugging a bundle of furs from the morning's hunt over his shoulder, "No beast alive stands a chance against you… and no whore for that matter."
"It's true, Jan, though it's a wife I'm after. I have my sights set on that one," he said, pointing his gun toward Seras Victoria.
A ways ahead, Seras had paused to buy some berries from a local farmer's daughter, who had set up shop.
"Huh?" Jan said, "The little prude bitch?"
"She's the one," the hunter said, "The lucky girl I'm going to marry!"
"You sure you want that one, bro? She's…"
"The most beautiful girl in town!"
"Yeah, but…"
"That makes her the best," he interrupted, not wanting any of his brother's usual sass. "And don't I deserve the best?"
"Of course you do! Come on, bro! There're way better lambs to skewer than…"
Luke clocked his brother on the head with the barrel of his gun to shut him up.
"Right from the moment, when I met her, saw her," Luke continued, "I said 'She's gorgeous,' and I fell…"
Jan's eyes widened when he saw her. "Ugh… bro…"
"Here in town, there is only she," Luke continued, "who is beautiful as me, so I'm making plans to woo and marry the Victoria belle…"
It was only when he tore his eyes away from his own reflection that he noticed Seras Victoria walking away, and went after her.
A ways behind him, a few very pretty young barmaids were openly admiring Luke as they filled buckets with water from the pump.
"Look! There he goes," they said, "Isn't he dreamy?"
"Yo! What up, little chickies?" Jan cried, leaning against the pump to leer at their breasts.
Pretending not to hear him, the girls all slammed down on the pump. The way he was positioned, the water blasted right into Jan's face, causing him to cough and sputter. "Monsieur Luke Valentine! Oh, he's so cool!" they cried as Jan tried to wipe the water off his soaked clothes. They weren't anything fancy, just a coarse tunic, trousers and boots for farming. Still, they were soppy and heavy when wet.
"Be still, my heart!" they all cried, still openly fawning and fanning themselves over his brother Luke. "I'm hardly breathing!"
"Oh, fuck this," Jan grumbled, and carried that morning's furs after his brother.
The girls continued, "Oh, that Luke! He's such a tall, dark, suave and handsome Casanova!"
Everyone knew the Valentines were one of the wealthier families in town. They had a generous amount of land, some private woods to go hunting, and even owned a business in town. Luke was the older and more responsible of the brothers. Intelligent and charismatic, Luke dressed and carried himself with more grace and elegance than most men in town, yet he still excelled at all the "rustic" hobbies they valued, particularly hunting. He was the town heart-throb for the ladies due to his looks, and the envy of the men due to his wealth and skill… and he knew it far too well.
Jan was the proverbial "prodigal son," wasting his family's money on excessive gambling, drinking and whoring. Most knew that Luke alone just barely kept his loud, vulgar little brother in line. Yet, to his credit, Jan was usually open to doing whatever job his brother told him, especially if it involved killing or fucking something. Their family raised livestock for the slaughter, and Jan was rather skilled with butchering and eviscerating the animals… though most townsfolk liked to turn a blind eye to how much he enjoyed it.
Most knew that Luke was the brains of the family, while Jan was the brute muscle. Luke would manage the numbers and finances and breeding plans, while Jan would do the grunt work of running the farm. Luke would often go hunting, while Jan would skin and strip the carcasses afterwards. Surprisingly, the two seemed quite satisfied with their roles within the family. Jan didn't seem to resent his brother's leadership or popularity, and seemed content to do his work as long as he got to go sinning afterwards. Despite how much they bickered, the two even seemed to enjoy a strange symbiosis for years… until Luke decided it was time to take a wife to carry on the family lineage.
And Seras Victoria was the girl he chose.
Presently, he tried to pursue her in the market as a hunter pursues a doe, but he quickly got caught up in the tangled forest of people.
"Bonjour!" a woman cried.
"Pardon," Luke said, trying to brush past them.
"Good day," Seras said to passers-by.
"Mais oui!" a woman cried.
Luke couldn't even call out to her because of all the noise from the hustle and bustle of the market. A whole crowd of people bartering and haggling all at once.
"You call this bacon?"
"What sourly grapes!"
"Some cheese?"
"Ten yards!"
"One pound..."
"Excuse me!" Luke tried to cry over the crowd.
"I'll get the knife," said the cheese merchant.
"Please let me through!" Luke cried.
He really did look ridiculous. A pompous, over-dressed dandy man trying unsuccessfully to weed through a crowd of working peasants to pursue a girl who didn't even realize he was there. The hustle of the crowd continued on as before, with people buying and selling and haggling and bargaining.
"This bread - "
"Those fish - "
"It's stale!"
"They smell!
"Madame's mistaken."
"Well, maybe so-"
"Good morning!"
"Oh, good morning!"
In the midst of it all, Seras Victoria clutched her book to her chest and cried joyously, "I want nothing more than this provincial life!"
"Just watch!" Luke said to those who were paying attention, "I'm going to make that girl my wife!"
The people in the crowd closet to him gasped. Most continued to go about their business, but those who had heard him cried:
"What? You could do so much better!"
"Oh, that girl is strange, but special!"
"Oui, a most peculiar mademoiselle."
Luke ignored their advice and continued to pursue her, finding a path around the crowd.
"It's a pity and a sin she doesn't quite fit in," the people that the Geese talked to had said.
"Because she really is a funny girl - "
"A beauty, but a funny girl - "
"She really is a funny girl, that Seras Victoria."
By the time Seras was on to the fact that anyone even noticed her, everyone had forgotten about her and gone back to their daily routine. She shrugged and turned back to her book, smiling fondly at the pages. It was at this moment that Luke Valentine approached her from behind. He brushed back a strand of his hair and straightened his riding coat, confident that he would easily woo her. In his most charming baritone, he leaned over to her and murmured, "Hello, Seras Victoria," in her native English.
Seras yelped and dropped her book. She whipped her head around, and visibly relaxed when she saw who it was. "B-bonjour, Monsieur Valentine."
"Oh, Seras," he chuckled, "You don't need to stand on formality with me. You and I both speak the English tongue."
Seras seemed a little put off by his attempt to act so intimate with her. "Be that as it may..."
But Luke ignored her. "Hello, what's this?" he murmured huskily, picking up her book.
Seras tried to take it from him, but he easily lifted it out of reach, flipping through its pages.
Seras sighed with frustration. "Luke Valentine, may I have my book please?" she growled, trying to suppress her annoyance.
"Why would you read this?" he sneered, flipping through the pictures, "It's all children's fairy tales!"
"Well, sometimes stories like that help me with my French," Seras said, blushing and frowning defensively.
Luke closed it and smirked at her, "Seras, you've been living in this town long enough that you no longer stories like these."
"But I - "
"Besides," he continued, tossing her book aside, "It's about time you got your head out of those books and paid attention to more important things..." Seras went to retrieve it, but he stepped between her and it. She glared up at him, but he didn't seem to notice. "... Like marriage," he concluded, flashing his most charming grin.
The barmaids in the background swooned and fluttered their lashes. Seras frowned him and picked up her book anyway.
"The whole town's talking about it," he grimaced, "It's not right for a woman to read! Soon she starts getting ideas and... thinking..."
"Luke Valentine, that is really none of your concern," Seras said, wiping the dirt from her book with her apron.
She wasn't an avid reader, but she really didn't appreciate people taking her things or telling her what she could do. Particularly men.
"Of course it is," he said, slinging an arm around her waist and pulling her back into town, "I just want to make sure you reach your full potential in this town." So saying, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder (a very unwelcome touch for Seras, who visibly frowned and tried to flinch away). "Now, what would you say we return to the tavern and have a look at some of my freshly acquired trophies?"
"Maybe some other time," Seras said as he tried to lead her away.
The barmaids (or "bimbettes" as Seras secretly liked to call them), were affronted by Seras' refusal.
"What's wrong with her?"
"She's crazy!"
"He's gorgeous!"
They all went back to being doe-eyed over him.
Like a doe pursued by a hunter though, Seras tore away from him and held her arms over her chest defensively. "Please, Mr. Valentine, I can't! I'll come over and see your trophies when I return to work tonight. For now, I have to run a few more errands and spend time with my friend before she moves away. Good bye."
Luke was affronted by her rejection, but his brother Jan suddenly burst out into laughter. "You talking about that crazy little Dutch loon?* Hope she's moving to an asylum! She needs all the help she can get!" And Luke started snickering with him.
"Don't talk about my friend that way!" Seras snapped, so angrily and suddenly that the brothers flinched.
"... Yeah! Don't talk about her friend that way!" Luke said to his brother, trying to win favor with Seras.
"Rip Van Winkle is not crazy!" Seras cried firmly, "She's a genius!"
A shot rang out and a bullet burst from the roof of a straw cottage far away. The two brothers laughed, while Seras yelped and ran to it.
A few of the Geese, who happened to be watching from a distance, smirked and laughed.
"Looks like you don't stand a chance in Hell, Captain."
"She turned down the town heart-throb. There's no way she'll go for the likes of us."
"Eh, lay off it," their captain said, turning back to town, "There's plenty of other sheep in the flock."
And so Seras faded from public conscious as quietly as she entered it. She went about her day and most others went about theirs. All except for Luke Valentine, who was highly affronted and confused as to why a girl he put the moves on had rejected his advances, but bruised egos are slow to heal. Jan had gone to the brothel to get over the rejection by the bimbettes.
Over the course of the day and evening, the Geese began filing into the village proper, and news soon spread of their presence. Most people were naturally affronted and suspicious. It seemed like a confirmation that the war they'd heard about was truly real and finally coming to their province, and many reacted with due fear and dread. Aside from that, most people did not like or trust soldiers at the best of times. Grizzled, scruffy, foreign mercenaries? Even less so. Most of the Wild Geese were Irishmen, or descended by the Irish that left the homeland following the Treaty of Limerick (famously known as the "Flight of the Wild Geese"**) who now served under contract for the French Army.
Their Captain, Pippen de Bernadotte (or "Pip" as he was called by his Gaelic fellows), was French born and raised, though his Irish heritage could be seen in his green eyes (well, eye) and red-brown hair. Still, he had enough rustic charm and familiarity with the French language and customs to put the villagers a little more at ease; though a dark gloom still settled over the villagers. Many regarded them as little better than a plague or parasites to eat their already poor town alive, since soldiers were infamous for their "appetites," be it food, drink, or women. To the villagers, their arrival signaled the coming war which would ravish the region and their presence signaled a hefty depletion in their resources in the weeks, if not months to come. It was a melancholy prospect.
Still, the Geese took it all in stride, and after night fell they went to the one place where they knew men like them would always be welcome: the local tavern, for lodging and drinks. It was a nice, warm, quaint little tavern with animal hides strung across the floors and animal trophy heads covering the walls. A few voluptuous women in tight bodices and heavily exposed cleavages served drinks to thirsty men, enjoying a pint before going home to their wives.
The barkeeper was coarse with them at first, but assured them if they didn't make trouble, no one in the village would make trouble for them.
He then whistled to a barmaid leaning over a table, currently serving drinks to a few men playing cards, whose back was turned to the Geese. "Oi, Missy! You've got more customers over here!"
"Okay!" she called, smiling and spinning around with a large tray filled with a large pitcher and cups of beer.
When she saw who they were, she gasped and dropped the tray. It fell to the ground with such a loud shatter that most eyes turned to her.
"Seras!" the barkeeper scolded, "What's gotten into you?!"
She didn't seem to hear him. Her eyes were widen with terror, and her face turned deathly pale, and she slowly wandered backwards. "Oh no," she whispered in her native English, slowly shaking her head with horror, "Not more soldiers."
Captain Pip was just as surprised to see her as she was of him, though for a different reason. He bolted out of his chair and approached her curiously. "Oh no," he said, "Wait... just hold on," he said, approaching her, "You... You are really a barmaid?!"
By this time, she was backed up against the wall and he was standing within arm's reach of her. He was at least a full head taller and broader than her and decked in full military garb, while she was small and meek and dressed only in her barmaid outfit. It was the same dress she wore in town, only with a tight-laced underbust corset to push up her large breasts (and suck her waist into a very exaggerated hour-glass figure), her chemise pulled open to expose her generous cleavage, and her long sleeves pulled up to her elbows. She had much more skin showing than before, and so looked much more vulnerable and sexualized. She didn't seem to notice though; just looked up at the tall, dark, rugged, shadowed figure with deep trepidation.
However, she visibly forced herself to suppress her horror and nausea. "Y-yes," she said, putting a great deal of effort to smile. "I-I am. B... H-hello!"
The Captain just stared at her for the longest time. She still looked sweet and innocent enough, yet she dressed as a barmaid. It was like seeing the priest's pious daughter dancing at a cabaret.
Seras simpered, but otherwise remained apprehensive of his reaction.
Then, to her surprise, he burst out laughing! And many of his cohorts chortled. Yet he alone laughed so hard he was close to tears. "A barmaid!" he exclaimed. "Ah, this is rich! The way everyone talked about you, I thought you were a wealthy farmer's daughter or something."
"Oh really?" Seras grumbled, glaring at the barkeep and other patrons. "Nice way to generalize."
"Aw, man, I don't believe this!" he exclaimed, tears in the corners of his eyes and his hand on the side of his head, "And here I thought you were unspoiled fruit! If you are a barmaid, then I'm the Prince of France!" And he leaned toward her, grinning and trying to grope her with his large hands.
From her perspective, Seras saw only a large, shady soldier reaching toward her with gloved hands.
Seras gasped, then her wrist shot forward and broke his nose.
Pip yelped, and his head flew back from the force of impact. Blood spurted from his nose and covered his face, and he panted in pain and surprise.
Seeing a soldier covered in blood in front of her didn't help Seras much better, and she fled outright.
The whole tavern was in an uproar. Men rose from their tables to see what was going on.
"Captain!" his men cried, rushing over him in consternation.
"SERAS!" the barkeep yelled sternly, slamming a glass down.
"I'm taking five!" Seras cried, fleeing into the storage room and slamming the door behind her.
Alone in the dark and quiet room, Seras stood quivering against the door and listened to the commotion from the other side. After a long while, she finally slid to the ground and wrapped her arms around her knees, sobbing and shaking.
As you can tell, I'm borrowing some heavy Beauty and the Beast themes for this, but rest assured there are no beasts or castles.
* "Rip Van Winkle" is a Dutch name, (or was at least coined by the Dutch-descended character by Washington Irving), so I decided to make her Dutch instead of Deutsch.
** The Wild Geese mercenaries were actually real mercenary regiments with a very long and fascinating history, not the least of which was when they left Ireland en masse to serve France in the mid-17th century, and continued to serve (legally) till about the end of the 18th century. Since that's around the very loose time frame of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, I wanted to take small advantage of this.