Hey this is my first real story and I'm sorry for any spelling or grammar errors, I'm on my old computer and have no spellcheck and my spelling sucks. I have gotten a serious Hellsing obsession and in this story I mix Bram Stokers Dracula and Hellsing. I really hope you like it and creative criticism is completely welcome! I do not own niether Bram stokers Dracula nor Hellsing no matter how much I wish I did. This is a non profitable story I just wrote it for fun. Thanks and happy reading.
Those whom we do not Wish to Remember
Deep in the bowels of the Hellsing building lay a room. The room was smaller than most in the esquisite mansion but large enough to store the trinkets of the past. Old paintings, some decrepit and torn from the will of time, covered with dust ridden linen, torn and stained. Instruments long forgotten by popular society from a time that was lost. Chests filled with gowns and suits, passed down from geneeration to generation of the Hellsing family. Childrens toys of boats, carriages and a rocking horse old from overuse. All these memories locked away from the prying eyes of the world, most not even knowing such a room existed. There were only three. Three who knew of this room. Three who had ever entered. The deserted hallway had known no sound for many years, but today the hallway was visited once more. The steps were near silent, light feet making no mark on the cobblestone floors of the sub basement. Red coat tails billowing with every step in the increasing black shadow. The candelabras on the walls flickering as the silent figure passed, dancing a dance that had been known to the world for centuries. As the figure came closer to his destination, a door appeared, old, cracked and ever so firmiliar. A single gloved and moved to the figures face, brushing past the raven tresses and ever so softly removed the tinted lenses from his eyes.
Alucard looked forward, trying to rationalize with himself why he had come here. A sense of longing had come over him after he had returned to the mansion. He had been watching her, his fledgling, his police girl fratrenize with that mercenary, Pip. She looked at him the way he used to look at her. She smiled, laughed and leaned into his touch ever so slightly. She was happy. He had not seen behavior like this for many years. His heart, even though it did not beat could still feel. He still felt many emotions, though in these times it was only a select few. Fury, excitement, the thrill of the hunt, dissapointment, pride, envy. These were the emotions his heart knew all to well. But so many emothions had been lost to him. So many that he would never feel again in his lifetime. Many years ago, before his enslavement, he was a ruler, he had many loves and much happiness. But none so as important as her. She had been his upheaval and his downfall. He forced himself forward and pulled back the bolt that made sure that none who were unworthy could gain acess to the memories so dear to his master and to himself.
The bolt, to heavy for human hands to lift, swung open easily and Alucard swept inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes gazed around the room, hierlooms and memoreies of the Hellsing family, some here to be preserved, and some here to be forgotten. These trinkets meant nothing to him. What he was seeking was much more valuable. He slowly walked past the chests filled with antiquities and the paintings of his Masters predescessors without a single glance towards them, instead he viligantly glided to the fartest wall of the room. There it sat, covered in a sheet that had not been touched in over 50 years. A corner of the intricate frame peaked from the cloth inticing him to remove it and peer inside. His hand reached forward hesitantly, and cautiously pulled the faded linen from the portrait. The only thing he had left from his old life.
There she sat, just as he remembered. Just as elegant and as beautiful . She sat, back straight, in the dress he had begged her to wear for the portrait. The red bustle gown, the sleeves resting gently on her arms, folded in her lap. The corset had made her trim waist even thinner, pushing her ample chest up, the clevage tantilizing him with the locket he had given her hanging precariously between her breasts. Her swanlike neck was turned slightly and he closed his eyes remembering the soft flesh, and the way it felt when he held her and the blood rushed trough her viens. Her lovely face was turned forward. Almost black chesnut hair flowed in waves freely down her back and over her shoulder, framing the pale cream flesh. He could remember the feeling of her nose, dainty and slightly curved upwards as it brushed against his cheek. Her full bottom lip following his jawline, as she kissed her way to his mouth. And those eyes. He had forced the painter to do her eyes over and over again until she had giggled and told him to behave and let the painter finish his work. Finally he had gotten her eyes right. The chocolate brown orbs that could dig through his body until they found his very soul, or what was left of it. The eyes that could show fear, happiness, anger, lust and love. Love that had been for him. Even now looking at this painting he could still see the love she held in her eyes. The intensity of the gaze became too much and Alucard turned away. She had never wanted her portrait done. He could still remember the way her cheeks flushed when he had insisted, she thought it was a waste to spend so much money on someone so plain. But in his eyes she had never been plain. Even on that first day he had seen her walking down the street, Her green dress billowing and her modest gaze unwilling to meet his burning stare, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. His Lovely Mina.
But beneath that smooth, harmless exterior layed a puzzle of confusion begging to be solved. She had a brilliant mind that could arrange words and put them on paper to create a masterpiece. She had a firey spirit that was begging to be released from the proper vicotorian style in which she was raised. One moment she could be on fire lashing out at him in anger, then the anger would grow into lust then the lust would be sastisfied and fade into a loving gentleness that he didn't even know existed. He slowly slipped without realizing and fell in love with the loving, brilliant teacher. But she already belonged to another. Alucard growled at the memory of Johnathan Harker. He had the measley weasel in his grasp until he escaped and he had married his Mina. She had belonged to him, and no other! But he won when he had bitten Mina and she followed him to his home estate. She was going to be his forever, his bride. But Abraham Van Hellsing had captured him and the bond holding Mina to him had been broken. Only for a brief second after he was captured did he get one last glimpse at his beloved Mina. He was paralized by a stake through the heart, but could see Mina in the arms of that dog Harker. He tried to yell for her but no words could be found, he tried to struggle to get to her but couldn't find the strength. But as if she had heard his thoughts she looked over, capturing his gaze and in those eyes he saw the same look of love he had seen so many times before, and not for Harker, for him. Even after all he had done to her she still loved him. After that there was darkness. A new life of servitude began for him and he never saw his Mina again.
She was long dead now. A bitter smile found its way to his face. Here he stood nearly 100 years later just as he was then ,while she was but bones buried in the earth, her soul in long gone from this plaine. He had tried to find traces of her when he was rejuvinated. Her and Harker had a son together, they lived long and heathly lives together and thier line went on with thier son and heirs. Bitterness seeped into his bones and the burning hatred for his immortality resurfaced once again. If he was not cursed he could have been with her and that would have been his son. He and Mina would have grown old and lived a mortal lifetime , wallowing in thier never ending love. But it was not to be. She lived on happily with Harker and that gave him closure, that she had been happy. In his anger he hapazardly threw the old cloth back over the portrait covering the eyes he still held so dear, to leave him in his never ending pit of anger and true loneliness. His cape billowed behind him and he swung around trudging back through the ancient memoribilia of the Hellsing famliy His hand slid up replacing the tinted glasses as he stepped through the threshold and swung the door shut, but not before sneaking one more glance at the once again covered portrait of the one person he had ever truly loved, then locked the beam back into place, sealing the door. Where it will wait to opened one more by one who is worthy of its knowledge.