Lizzie was beyond puzzled.
"How?" was all she could rasp out. Seras looked down at her cadet boots. She sighed. "Master has told me this story so many times. However, he always makes it sound so much better than I ever could." Seras opened her mouth, trying to duplicate the story as best as possible.
In his dungeon bedroom in the bowels of the Hellsing manor, Alucard sat at his chair. He remembered how beautiful and clear the night was when he saw the members of the ton (English high society) arrive at his castle in Wallachia. They all descended upon his grand estate in horse drawn carriages. It had taken them a long time by boat, which meant they would be staying at his house for the Christmas season. He had asked them to his country because he didn't want to miss out on the social events any more, so decided to hold the celebrations in Wallachia so he could test the waters.
Watching out from his large windows, he saw at least thirty large carriages draw up. Thirty extra horses to feed, house and water as well. Money was no question to the notorious Count Vladimir Tepes. The Count smiled, thinking of all the young débutantes arriving at his home. At least twenty young ladies who hadn't been introduced to high society yet, all there for the picking. He watched as the last carriage, a large black wood box pulled by four greys. He caught a scent. A pleasant scent, that infiltrated his mind. Out stepped the plump little man he knew as Samuel Austin. A loving man, the Count had been friends with Samuel Austin for many years. Sam had inherited his title and land, but his investments had brought him his real fortune. The Count had in fact, been the one to pushed Sam towards his wife, Lady Austin. Sam was helping his wife, Marge, as they had both fondly called her, down from the carriage. Wearing a black dress with a red travelling cloak, Marge has always dressed appropriately in ways that always made her look younger than she really was. But to his surprise, he offered his hand into the carriage once more. The smell got stronger. The Count was confused, had Sam brought his mother along with him? Out from the darkness of the carriage, stepped a young woman. This couldn't be... This couldn't be his little girl? The girl had Sam's thick, brown hair. In the darkness,from two storeys down, even then her pale beauty radiated. The Count needed to meet her. He rushed down the stairs, past the help that had taken most of the luggage to the allocated rooms, down through the beautiful red hallways, and down the stairs. Swinging the front doors wide open, he made a beeline to the Austins. Bowing and politely greeting the other guests as he worked his way through the crowd, it felt like a lifetime before he reached them. "Samuel my old friend. Is that you?" The Count smiled at his friend, and embraced him. In England, men would normally greet each other with a hand shake. However, in Transylvania, men where more open to expressing their feelings, and Samuel had grown accustomed to the Counts emotional greetings. The Count could smell him. Samuel had a certain weakness for cheeses, scotch, and sweets, a combined smell that repulsed the Counts' hypersensitive nostrils. So making a meal of his friend held no appeal. He shook Marge's hand, and kissed her cheek. "I have missed you both so much!" Finally, his eyes locked on the source of the delicious smell. The girl. Getting a good look at her, he realised she was breathtakingly beautiful. Thick hair, a thin body with a small but pert chest, and the bluest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. And then, he knew. He had found her. His Queen. Smiling, he bowed as if he where a butler addressing his Lady. "Samuel, you cannot tell me that this beautiful young woman, is your daughter?" He said, trying his best with his English. Samuel smiled proudly.
"She was eighteen two months ago Vlad."
"Has it been that long? Nearly nineteen years since I last set eyes on you my friend?" He had last seen Sam and Marge just before Marge fell pregnant. He had sent many letters to the count, saying what a beautiful young woman his daughter was growing into. Marge had suffered many lost babies, and the last three had been boys, all stillborn. Sam had informed him of this in his letters, each more and more saddening for the Count to read.
"Yes my friend, it's been too long."
Taking the young Lady's hand, he kissed it.
"Lady Elizabeth Austin. My, you look stunningly like your mother." The Count muttered in a seductive tone. She smiled.
"And you, you are the infamous Count Vladimir Tepes that my father tells me about when my mother isn't listening." She giggled.
"Nothing too discriminative, I hope?" The Count laughed with her. Offering his arm, he took a large case, one which should have been far too heavy for him on his own, and held it in one hand, while guiding his companion and the rest of the English nobility through to his castle.
"Seeing as I didn't expect you to come along with your parents my lady, I'll have to offer you a room in the west wing of the house as opposed to the right. The right is full to the brim." The Count lied. There was plenty of room in the right wing left, his room, however, was in the west wing, and he wanted her to be as close to him as possible. "Samuel! I'll escort your daughter to her room, and we'll be back down in a jiffy once I fetch her luggage. Until dinner, my friend."
Passing through the corridors that held many candles to light the way, he escorted her to one of the grandest rooms. Opening the rosewood door, he pulled her lightly into the room. Shutting the door behind him, he set down her case. Elizabeth gazed in awe. All of the furniture, the bed, the vanity table, the wardrobe, even the chair and desk and bed side tables, all of the where dark wood, all hand crafted. He walls where a papered red colour, the colour of lobster shells when cooked. The four poster bed had silk and satin covers and pillows, all different shades of red thrown onto it. All the upholstery and coverings where red. "This is truly a work of art, my Lord." She gasped. She turned, realising the Count was closer than she thought. She looked into his deep, dark eyes. They where full of mischief and wonder. The Count was a handsome man. He wore a white shirt that opened slightly at the throat. He had pale skin, like her, but it radiated like moonlight, not like fresh milk such as her own. His nose, chin and cheekbones where strong and defined. He had a moustache which was not overly thick. He was well groomed. His hair was shoulder length and black as a crows wing. His lips where chiselled and strong. Hadn't her father said the Count was older than himself? Her father was thirty six, which should leave the count at around thirty eight, thirty nine. Elizabeth couldn't think with him in such close proximity. She began to feel a tugging in her lower stomach. The count... Excited her. "It's... It's not proper to stand so close to a Lady, my Lord." She trembled. He put a finger under her chin, pulling her face closer. So close, Elizabeth felt a rush, and the uncertain feeling that he would kiss her. Before their lips touched, he whispered: "It isn't proper to be in a Lady's bedroom, but here we are." He placed his lips on hers, not in a kiss, but a graze. He felt her mouth trembling, her lips begging for a kiss. He could smell the arousal in her blood, and the innocence. He drew away. He couldn't take her. He couldn't. She had to stay a virgin, just for now. "I'm sorry." He said, drawing to his full height. He bowed slightly to Elizabeth, told her that her handmaiden would be up to assist her momentarily, and left the room. Elizabeth was left, standing there, still trembling from the not-quite kiss.
Seras finished her story a lot sooner than Alucard had recounting it all. When Alucard was finished remembering, he felt another tear of blood drip down his cheek. He wished he'd stolen that kiss from his beautiful Lady while she was willing to give it to him.
"And Master told me he knew then and there you where the true queen. His queen of vampires. Destined to be together forever. So that is why Hellsing can't let you go. Many people and creatures alike hate Alucard, and would be glad to see you murdered to get back at him. They wouldn't hesitate." She grimaced Lizzie then felt something. A tingle in her lips. Like someone had, kissed her? But it was gentle as a feather. No, it felt like a brush.
"If... This is true, and I decide to stay does that mean I need to stay here?" Lizzie asked.
"Yes Miss. It would be easier for everyone. We need Alucard here around the clock just in case of emergencies. But now he's found you, he'd be with you all the time. Even if you didn't want him to be. He'd protect you around the clock, he'd have to. The further from you he is, the worse it'll hurt. It's a physical pain. A drain on his energy. And it'll affect you too, eventually. Please Miss. We'll explain everything better after breakfast, we just need to know you won't run off in the day time." Seras was nearly begging Lizzie to stay. Lizzie felt pity, for both her and Alucard. How could Lizzie be Elizabeth? Lizzie was just a London born commoner, not a drop of noble blood in her veins. This Elizabeth Austin was a high society débutante. How could they be the same? But Lizzie felt some sort of strange... Nostalgia, as Seras recounted the story to her. And a rush of affection towards the Count. Without realising, Lizzie nodded. "Yes, I'll stay." She whispered. Seras threw her arms around her.
"Thank you Miss! There are fresh clothes in the drawers, help yourself. I'm going to rest for a little while, I've been up all night, and the sun is draining. Sir Hellsing is expecting you in the dining room. Down the stairs, third room on the right." and with that, Seras disappeared from the room.
"What am I doing?" she muttered to herself. Dragging herself to the chest of drawers, she opened it and inspected the contents. Everything was brand new! Tags and everything. Pulling out a pair of back jeans, she looked at the tag. Her eyes widened. Not only was the size right, but the price was astronomical! She'd been used to shopping in the smaller, more chain cheap shops and charity stores. These jeans came straight from Liberty, the large designer store on regents street. The black skinny jeans themselves cost £150. "What in Hell do these people wear?" She pulled out a button up chiffon shirt. Blushing slightly she looked through the drawers. She needed underwear. Looking down on herself, she realised that she'd been wearing her horrible hospital scrubs. Still covered in blood. She shivered. Whoever it was changing the sheets, she wouldn't like their job. Her hands found something frilly and thin. UNDERWEAR! Pulling it out, she held in her hand a pair of lace panties. How are these people getting her size right? She was two sizes bigger than, Seras, was it? And that Integra woman definitely wasn't her shape. She'd have to ask. Looking at the label, she felt sick. Victoria's Secret? Really? She took off her scrubs, putting them into a pile on the floor. Slipping off her pants, she quickly pulled the new ones on. She turned, looking around, and she found a mirror. She assessed the damage done. Her sides where bruised, turning black. There was a blue bruise on her face. A cut above her eye which had scabbed over. She had numerous cuts and bruises up and down her arms and legs. But no blood on her skin. Someone had wiped her down. She shuddered, hoping it was Seras, preying it wasn't Alucard. Pulling on the jeans and shirt, she looked at her hair. It was filthy, and she could smell the irony, salty stench of dried blood in it. sighing, she scrunched it up into a messy bun. Turning, she exited the room. Down the stairs, third door to the right. Taking a deep breath, she knocked the door. "Come in." came a woman's voice. Lizzie thought. Opening the heavy oak door, she took it all in. What seemed to be a ball room had been converted into a dining room. There was the aristocratic woman from her bedroom, seated in front of a fire place at the head of a long dining table. "Hello Miss Rivaille." (Yes, for all you Attack on Titan fans, I just did that. What're you gonna do?;D )"Hello..." Lizzie started, unsure what to say.
"Porridge? Tea?" she asked Lizzie, gesturing for her to take a seat. Lizzie sat.
"Yes please." she nodded, realising how hungry she was.
"Reggie!" she called softly.
"Right away, ma'am." Lizzie heard a voice echo back across the room. There stood a man of about 40, tall and in a butlers uniform, bowed and exited the room.
"If you don't mind me being so forward... What is it you need from me? Why keep me here? Seras told me most things, I'm just massively confused about the whole situation. Why do you care if I'm safe? Why would Alucard care, even if I was this dead girlfriend of his." Lizzie cut straight to the point. Sir Integra looked up, brows raised, but the edges of her mouth quirked into a smile.
"We, my dear, are the Hellsing Organisation. We hunt and kill vampires, werewolves, and ghouls, amongst other things that may stand in our way to achieve these goals. A ghoul is what is left of a human when their soul is taken by a vampire. When a vampire feasts on a humans blood, the body then becomes an empty vessel that obeys its creators every command. To become a ghoul, especially in this century, it is simple. If you are no longer a virgin, or are the same sex as the vampire draining you, you would then become their slave. However if you are a virgin and of opposite sex to the vampire draining you, you will become a vampire." She crossed her fingers and placed her chin on the arch. "If danger where to come across you, Alucard would feel it. And no matter where, or how, he'd be with you as fast as inhumanly possible. It's in a vampires nature to find their, soul mates. Soul mates exist Elizabeth, and for vampires, it's the most important thing they can find. Alucard has tracked you and your reincarnations, if you will, since 1456. But each time he has found you, he's lost you. You've died because of-"
"Because of Marissa." A dark voice came from the corner. Alucard stood at his intimidating height. He had a stack of files in each of his hand. Nearly gliding towards her, he stopped dead in front of Lizzie. He dropped the files in front of her. Opening the first one, she realised it was a dossier. On a woman called-
"Francesca Aliza James. Born 1646, in Mississippi. Died in 1665. Orphaned girl who's father had died in a flour mill incident, and mother had been murdered a few months after her birth. I tracked you to your homestead, the one left to you by your parents. Found dead two days later thrown off a cliff into a ravine."
The next file held an old yellowed photo of a girl. Who looked just like Lizzie! Her eyes widened. Her hair was in tight curls, and she was wearing a strange, foreign uniform.
"Isabelle Delacleur. Born 1814 in Paris. Died 1829. I found you quite early, at seven years old. But as both your parents where wealthy merchants, I could only protect you from afar. Your parents sent you to boarding school, and I posed as a grounds keeper. But while I was away, Marissa stepped in as headmistress and within a week you'd gone missing. I found your body, curled up in a flower bed in the forest upon my return."
Opening the last dossier, she looked at the photo. It was the thickest. It contained two Opening it, she saw the faces of four women. It was a World War 2 photograph. The woman, second from the left, looked like Lizzie as well. Her hair was rolled into victory rolls, and she was wearing a dress that looked like a knee long button up shirt. She was smiling.
The second picture was of the same woman wearing a dark green British army jumpsuit, this time on her own. Her smile was no longer there.
"Georgia Grey. Born 1923. By twenty years old, she had infiltrated and destroyed three different Nazi hide outs, sniffed out six different Nazi spies, and her work helped to save over 600 Jewish children and infants from death camps. But you won't hear her name anywhere. All her documents where burned and erased. Marissa had planted a bomb under the building and tipped of the SS. I had planned to save her at the last minute, but I wasn't fast enough. Georgia knew she was going to die, so she kept her targets as hostage. The building was surrounded by SS officers. So she shot all six of her targets, and that's when the bomb was detonated. The date of death was August 29th, 1945. Just days before the official end of the war, aged twenty two." Alucard finished. He looked crestfallen. Sir Integra took over.
"We need you to become an agent of the Hellsing Organisation. A vampire hunter, if you so choose to think, all creatures of darkness. We know you're capable. You'd be kept in the manor, and you'd be protected. And after Marissa is taken care of, you'll be free to go. If you so choose."
Lizzie thought. She would be looked after, she would be safe. Breathing, she looked Sir Integra straight in the eye.
"I'll do it. I'll become an agent of the Hellsing Organisation."