Author's Note: This story is one of Aurelia Destiny's Hellsing Challenges that she posted on the DG Facebook page. It stayed stuck in my head like a thorn all day and I couldn't stop coming up with ideas. So I decided to let fate do with me what it will.

I don't own Hellsing. I don't even own my own house, for Pete's sake.


"It's not that I don't want to go," Seras lied through her teeth as her arm was jerked by the tailor and measured briskly. Sir Integra said nothing, one slender eyebrow arching at the young vampire's assertion. "But I'm so new here; am I really needed there? I mean, I haven't even been at Hellsing a full year yet, and already you're throwing me ahead of officers who spend their whole lives striving for a place at the balls."

She'd heard it all day in the halls; the whispered comments, the cold glares sent her way, the way her back itched all night as the soldiers bored holes in it with their eyes. They didn't think that she, a tiny nobody— a slip-up that was only alive because Sir Integra allowed it.

"Agent Victoria," Integra said, and her no-nonsense tone would have made Seras wither if she hadn't been forced up by the tailor's deft, impatient hands. "You will be at this dinner." Seras sighed and the tailor huffed as she lost her posture for a full two seconds. "Alucard will be at the front of the table with me and the other Knights, protecting us from any… troubles that may arise. Your job is to be at the other end, guarding against the same thing." She tilted her head slightly, watching the tailor work before blowing out a cloud of cigar smoke.

"Isn't that the same as saying that Master can't handle your guests?" she asked warily, hoping the ancient vampire wasn't in earshot. He'd been banished from the basement during the fitting sessions for good measure, although neither woman thought that he'd peek at them. It was beneath him, even if it would irritate and embarrass the two blondes. And even though he'd been told not to come down, that still wouldn't stop him from eavesdropping if he so chose.

"Not really," Integra answered, patiently keeping her arms held out at an angle as the other tailor made some finishing measures. "He wouldn't his hands full, but it's nice to have a backup plan all the same." She smiled—a rare expression for her—and Seras noted that if she did it more often, the Ice Queen just might look a bit prettier. "Besides, I need help entertaining my guests, and you're a very agreeable young woman when you actually pay attention to things." Seras flushed at the compliment, even though she knew that the heiress was just trying to rope her into agreeing.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked hopefully, and the answering look told her all she needed to know. She bent her head in submission and kept her irritation to herself, the emotion bubbling in her gut like boiling water. Her boss was a bit too much like her servant; it was nearly impossible to fight her and win, so one had to choose those battles wisely.


Even if the tailor was a prat with wandering hands and a short temper, he managed to make a beautiful dress. Seras felt like a princess, all dressed up in finery. She allowed herself one childish twirl as she studied herself in her bedroom mirror, turning this way and that to watch the fabric move around her.

The dress was a dark green, not exactly emerald but not forest green either. The color wasn't one she'd have chosen, but she had to admit that it did wonders on her skin; instead of pale-corpse-white, her flesh took a creamier color against the stark material. The lacy pearl-studded accents were a bonus, working with her curves to make a flattering figure. The silky material billowed around her legs like a ball gown, the folds stopping just above her feet, where she wore a pair of Sir Integra's flats instead of her combat boots (although if it had come a fraction further, she'd have considered the boots after all).

A knock on the door told her the "cleanup crew" had arrived. Walter had kindly informed her that a team of professionals would be down to fix her hair. She knew that they'd do her makeup too, but she was prepared for a fight on that front. Ever since she'd turned into a vampire, the chemicals in foundation burned her skin.

She called that the door was unlocked and it opened to reveal two young ladies with briefcases and a duffel bag full of tools. She was promptly sat down and one girl bent to her hands, beginning to work silently on her nails. The other engaged the overwhelmed Draculina in small talk and began to systematically tear her hair out, pulling it into shape.

After her head was pounding and what small amount of hair she did possess was piled on top of her head, the girl moved around to begin work with a curling iron and pins and flowers. She couldn't see herself in the mirror, so she focused instead on the fanny pack full of bobby pins slung around the hairstylist's waist. The other girl made her nails shine as if she'd never done any work in her life, each digit ending in a perfectly rounded pointed.

Finally both stepped back and Seras saw the mirror. She gasped, looking at the elaborate hairstyle and wondering where the hairstylist had found enough hair to make all those curls. Beautiful white roses and strings of pearls graced the elegant curls. The entire thing looked too delicate and it added something more to her face—instead of a bumbling girl, she was a sophisticated woman.

The nail-polisher stepped forward and put simple pearl studs in her ears, and then held out a tube of lipstick hesitantly. Seras nodded despite her earlier misgivings and the woman swiped the stain quickly across her lips. They both stepped back and appraised their work, nodding to each other.

"It's beautiful," Seras managed to say as she sat dumbfounded. The dark red lipstick made her eyes look intriguing and deep, instead of just… gross and red. She really looked like a princess now. The women nodded together.

"Of course," the hairstylist quipped gently. "Only the best to befit a Lady." They both bowed slightly and Seras stared up in shock, realizing that they were gazing at her with a certain level of knowledge she'd missed before. It gave her the same weird, swishing feeling in her gut that always came around when the men that manned the doors and vehicles bowed to her. She usually forgot that she was technically nobility, since she was Alucard's fledgling.

"Ah, thank you," she stammered. They backed away and packed up their things before leaving her alone. She stared at the beautiful doppelgänger in the mirror, the Lady Seras that she would never really be, even if she looked like it. It gave her chills, although she couldn't decide what exactly moved her so. Finally she sighed and stood, gathering her skirts and heading for the party she heard bustling above her head.


Sir Integra looked stunning, in a slimmer dress that was the color of a noon sky. Her hair had been braided, and the flowers that adorned it were the same color as the dress. She was talking to Sir Irons, who Seras only remembered from the day the Valentine brothers attacked the mansion. Walter was in a corner, nodding animatedly as he talked to a pale young woman with flowing ginger locks and a light green dress. The woman looked terribly melancholic, although she clearly laughed at whatever the retainer had said. Seras smiled at his polished suit—he looked that nice every day, but he'd thrown his best linens on since he played the part of Sir Integra's official escort.

She didn't see Alucard, although she knew he was somewhere in the throng of people gracing the foyer. She scanned instead for something strange, exciting—there was supposed to be a good number of supernatural people here tonight. Hellsing had aids in almost every country; the "good guys" who kept an eye on their brethren and kept humans blissfully ignorant of the creatures they shared their day to day lives with. But even though she carefully looked over the crowd, she saw no one.

Of course, she could have gotten a better look if she wasn't hiding behind the wall at the top of the stairs. Half-bent and peering around the railing, she looked like a child sneaking up to see a grown-ups-only party. But her nerves were shot at the first sight of all those people, and she knew if her heart still beat it would have been thundering in her chest from fright.

She gulped and backed away from the rail, into the shade. She couldn't do it. Consequences be damned, but she knew the minute she walked out there she'd trip and fall, or some other dastardly thing that would ruin her image and make for a horrid first impression. One hand fluttered to mouth and she bit her finger, her eyes sliding back to look at the light spilling into the hall from the foyer. How did Sir Integra ever believe her capable enough to walk out into a crowd of strangers and not make a fool of herself!?

"Oh, wonderful!" a voice chirped suddenly, scaring Seras out of her shoes. "I'm not the only nervous one here." She turned on her heel, backing away a pace and staring wide-eyed into the gloom. She hadn't heard anyone come up behind her in the hall, a rarity considering her enhanced senses. She pulled her finger out of her mouth, her hands moving to clasp behind her back as she straightened up her posture.

He was a middle-aged man, or at least he had the appearance of one. Seras could feel something pulling at her instincts, a whispering voice in her head warning her that something was off about him, but at the same time her gut was telling her that the man meant her no harm. But as she looked closer, she decided that he must be supernatural.

He wore a brown suit with a crisp, white, buttoned up shirt beneath the jacket and a handkerchief sticking slightly out of the side pocket. He moved slightly and she thought she saw suspenders beneath the jacket as well, but she wasn't sure. His shoes were so shiny that she could see her reflection in them, and there wasn't a scuff to be had. His mousy brown hair was neatly combed, save for a few strands that fell over his forehead. His glasses were thick plates of glass with wire frames that looked ancient, like he'd found them on the nose of a Victorian scholar. His face was lean and smooth, with almost imperceptible laugh lines. All in all, he looked normal enough.

But it was his eyes that drew her in; eyes that looked straight into her soul and knew what she was thinking, she was sure of it. Those eyes, grayer than rainclouds or sheet metal, the most pure color she'd ever seen in her life—they were filled with a sense of wisdom and age, they were eyes that had seen brilliant, horrible things. They weren't the eyes of a normal human.

Right now, those eyes looked at her with mingled amusement and relief, and he let her get a good, long stare before he cleared his throat politely. "Something you like?" he asked playfully, and she suddenly felt every ounce of fear and tension slip from her body. She blushed from the roots of her hair to her toes, realizing that she'd been all but gawking at him. At the sight before him, the man laughed and the sound filled her with glee, it was so clean and happy.

"Sorry," she mumbled, feeling a little self-conscious. "You surprised me, that's all." The man walked over and before she knew it, he'd threaded his arm through hers. She thought about protesting, but something in her liked this rather forward stranger and she found herself relaxing.

"You're nervous about going down there," he said knowingly. She nodded. "Well, I am too. I love parties once I get there, but making my way down and beginning to socialize is a pain. I never know what to say and, to tell you the truth," he paused, leaning down secretively to whisper in her ear. "I'm a bit of a klutz." Seras giggled.

"I am too," she conceded. "I didn't want to walk down and trip on my dress, or spill a drink on myself or…" she faltered, looking back at the lighted foyer with a growing sense of unease, "Well, I've never been to such a fancy party before," she admitted. The man looked delighted.

"You haven't?" he asked. "Well, this is great! Your first time is always the most fun, really. Everything's new and exciting—when you're as old as I am, they all begin to run together." Seras looked up at him, her head barely brushing his chin as he began to walk her in the direction of the stairs.

"You don't look that old," she remarked. The man looked down at her and laughed again, and she admired the way his eyes sparkled with mirth. He winked at her and she felt another blush grace her cheeks.

"I'm older than you'd think, love." Seras was about to ask what sort of creature he was, and was grappling with a polite way of phrasing it, when suddenly she ran into a broad chest. She fell back against her new companion, shaking her head slightly and looking up, dazed.

Alucard stood in their path, dressed in a simple black suit with a crimson tie. He glared at her for a minute, his eyes sweeping over her form and she stood a little straighter under his gaze. Finally he looked at the man, his eyes narrowing slightly as his lips turned down into a frown. She felt the man's arm tighten and looked up, wondering if her master's presence made the man uneasy.

To her surprise, the two men were locked in a staring match of sorts. Her master was standing feet planted, arms crossed, with his expression slowly devolving from displeasure into pure anger. The man was still holding her arm, his stance giving off an air of ease, and a friendly smile on his face.

Seras felt a shiver creep down her spine as she looked at the man's eyes; they were sparkling dangerously, as he was silently challenging the ancient vampire to make a move. This scrawny man was going to openly invite her master to fight? Did he have a death wish? Surely, even if he wasn't human, her new acquaintance couldn't win against her master! However, something in the back of her mind chimed that there was definitely more to him than met the eye. Finally Alucard nodded curtly to him, fury still swimming just beneath his cool gaze.

"Renfield." The man gave him a toothy grin, tilting his head like an overgrown puppy. The tension eased and Seras let out a sigh of relief, although she hadn't known she'd been holding her breath.

"It's wonderful to see you, old chap. I'm surprised to see you still unchained," the man said genteelly. Alucard raised a single brow and the man continued. "But then again, not everyone obeys the leash laws." Seras gasped at the blatant slur, one hand clapping over her mouth. Her mind was reeling—Renfield… wasn't he the madman in that book? But, then again, one had to be completely mental to just openly insult her master, the No Life King himself!

The vampire hissed in rage, his hand already reaching into his coat. Seras knew that he'd bring out a gun and Sir Integra's dinner collapsed before her mind's eye. However, the hostess herself was climbing the stairs and Seras stared as she placed a hand on Alucard's arm.

"Stand down," she said calmly. She looked over at Renfield and her gaze softened to that of a child staring at a family friend. "Do you really have to start something every time you two meet?" she asked, a hint of exasperation in her voice. Renfield shrugged one shoulder, laughing softly.

"Consider it my payback for decades of forced servitude," he answered enigmatically. Integra nodded and gave Alucard a warning look before spying Seras. She looked shocked, her blue eyes widening slightly.

"Agent—Miss Victoria, why aren't you down with the other guests already?" she asked, holding out an arm. "Come on, you can't hide up here forever. I said you're going to be at this dinner, and I mean it." Seras meant to oblige her, but Renfield hung onto her arm a moment longer. She turned and he stared into her eyes for a long moment. She felt as though he were searching through her mind for something, using only their locked gazes. Finally he nodded to himself and let her go, and she stumbled back before Integra caught her arm in a firm grasp.

"Honestly," Integra sighed, and Seras felt her face grow hot. Well, better here in the dark with a kindly madman and her master than on the stairs in front of a crowd.


After having been introduced to a million people only to immediately forget their names as she was whirled around the foyer, Seras could have cried with joy when the signal came to move into the dining hall. She followed the crowd, letting them sweep her into the right room and found her name on a tiny place card at one end of the great table. She sat down and a waiter pushed the chair up behind her. She thanked him with a nod and looked around at the beautiful flowers and embellishments that lit up the room. During most of her time here, the dining hall stood empty and unused. It was a nice change to see it well decorated.

Finally the meal came, and Seras was surprised to see a man fill the wineglass in front of her empty plate. She took a cautious sip to realize that it was a spiced fruit drink; the kind she was given only on special occasions. She licked her lips daintily and took another, longer sip, relishing the flavor. It was her favorite treat, now that blood was the main staple to her diet.

Looking down the table, she saw that many had varying dishes and drinks depending on their diets. The pale green-clad woman, who Integra had whispered was a banshee, was nibbling on a tasty-looking pastry, while next to her a tiny slip of a sea nymph ate a seaweed salad. Renfield—who sat a little farther down the table—waved at her, one hand carefully snagging the spider that escaped from its enclosure before popping it in his mouth like one might a hors d'oeuvre.

It surprised her how normal most of the supposedly supernatural creatures looked. The werewolf, who Integra had explained was also a very well-known Australian ambassador, easily passed for a human despite his abundance of hair. He was eating steak tartare and listening attentively to his companion, who for being hairy was still a very beautiful lady. There were several others drinking the same thing as her, their eyes varying shades of red that crossed both ends of the spectrum.

One young man's eyes kept her attention, and though she didn't like to stare she couldn't help it. He sat across the table from her, drinking his spiced punch and nodding as a young lady with wings folded demurely behind her back spoke about polar ice caps.

His eyes were a burgundy shade, but the inner irises were speckled with flecks of gold. His hair was slicked back, only a shade darker than her own light blonde locks. His face was full, but not chubby enough to take away from his appearance. He wore a sapphire suit with silver trim, which looked more like an army captain's studded coat than any mere formal wear.

She was so engrossed with staring-without-staring that when he spoke to her, it surprised her enough to make her jump slightly in her seat.

"I hope you don't mind me saying," He said in a strange accent that she couldn't quite place, "but those roses in your hair are lovely." She felt her cheeks glow at the compliment and thanked him quietly. "What's your name?"

"S-Seras," she said hesitantly, wondering if she should have added "Lady" in front of it. She really didn't know the etiquette for this sort of thing. "Seras Victoria." He repeated the name, rolling the syllables on his tongue with a pleased smile.

"That name suits you," he said with a charming smile. "A lovely name for a lovely lady." She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was blushing now. She thanked him again, hoping she didn't sound like a broken record. "I am Lord Emiliano of Switzerland," he told her.

"Isn't Emiliano Italian or something?" she blurted out without thinking. Ugh, stupid Seras! She thought to herself. Just call him a liar, why don't you? He just said Switzerland. But Lord Emiliano looked surprised and pleased at her question.

"Yes, it is," he replied. "I come from southern Switzerland, where many of the people speak Italian. I'm surprised you know such a fact," he added. Seras shrugged, her self-consciousness creeping up again.

"Well, I—Um, it's nice to meet you," she offered finally.


They spoke for the rest of the evening, all throughout dinner and then through the drinks afterwards. Seras learned that they had more in common then she'd have thought, considering she was born in 1980 and he in 1337.

They both had lost their parents at a young age, hers to those bloody murderers and his to the Plague. They both missed having blue eyes, and thought that red eyes weren't flattering at all, although Emiliano admitted he liked Seras' crimson ones more than his own dark ones. Seras countered that she loved the golden specks in his.

They both enjoyed the spiced punch, with Emiliano admitting he'd never really tasted anything quite like it, and wondering if he could give his servants the recipe. Both loved classical music, hated small spaces, and so much more that Seras was flabbergasted. It was like they were meant to be friends.

She hadn't had a true friend since she'd been a human. Walter was the closest thing, but he still wasn't really friend material. Sir Integra was too uptight, and her master was… her master. Not a very friendly person. And the soldiers didn't like her. They were afraid of what she could do.

But here was another vampire, a kindred spirit who she could write letters to and talk on the phone to, who shared her love of Tchaikovsky and who joined her in making jokes about the other guests, no matter how silly and un-noble it was.

When the time came for the guests to leave, Seras realized with a start that she'd had a good time. She hadn't thought once about her nervousness since she'd left the stairwell, and she'd had a night full of spiced drinks and meaningful conversation. She didn't want her new friend to leave, and when he asked for her to step aside she planned on getting his address or a phone number.

"Seras, tonight has been the most fun I've had in centuries," he started, and Seras jumped in.

"I know, it's been fun for me, too. I want to stay in touch." He nodded and looked out at the diminishing crowd, a serious expression crossing his youthful features. He turned back and clasped her hands, his eyes searching hers.

"I need you to do something for me," he said, and Seras found herself nodding. She squeezed his hand and smiled.

"Ask away," she said cheerfully. He grinned and the seriousness left him, his eyes twinkling.

"Marry me." Seras didn't know whether to laugh at a joke, or gasp in shock, or voice her confusion. The words had come with such conviction, but the emotion behind them was undefinable. But before she could decide what to do, a sharp pain cracked her skull down the middle and she fainted, his gold-speckled eyes the last thing she was able to focus on before it all went dark.