Author's Notes: Just to clear up any confusion, Seras does NOT have a 3 day time limit. In Disney's version, Ariel has three days to get the prince to kiss her or turn back into a mermaid. In H. C. Andersen's version, she'll be human for life, but has to get him to marry her to receive an immortal soul. If he marries someone, else the next sunrise she'll die and become sea foam. I married the two ideas by making it so Seras has more or less unlimited time to woo the Count. He can either marry her and she can stay human for this life and the next, like H.C. Andersen's version. If she fails and he marries another, the next morning she'll turn back into a mermaid and become the Sea Witch's slave, like the Disney version.

So it's been longer than three days in the fic. In fact, by now, I think Seras has been on land about six weeks.

Disclaimer: I have no claim or legal gain to any version of Hellsing or The Little Mermaid.


Seras sat with her arms folded at the table, with her chin resting against her arms, as she stared into her flowers. A servant had put them in a vase after they had come back home, and Seras looked at them every day. Currently she was rather bored and absently stared at them up close; the stems, leaves and petals.

One of the maids came by dusting, and said: "Don't slouch, dear, you'll ruin your posture."

Seras sighed and sat up straight.

It had been a few days since they had returned from town and she missed it daily. Now she wished she'd gotten something permanent during their trip to remember it by. The Old Grey had eaten all his apples and carrots, Seras had eaten all her loaves of bread—actually, that was a lie. The servants confiscated them after Seras returned because "ladies don't keep spare food in her room" and they said they would store it in the kitchen properly and present at meal times. Seras doubted very much the truth of that, since the bread they served at meals did not seem like the loaves she got. And now her white flowers were starting to wilt.

Seras wished she had gotten that clock while she was still in town—wait! Captain Bernadotte said there were clocks in the castle! Seras got up to look for them, then sighed when the servants reprimanded her for running.

The "honeymoon phase" of her stay on land was over. Seras was starting to notice more and more annoyances with human life (that was actually starting to bother her), and more and more obstacles with her muteness. Walter and the servants had long expressed concern with Seras' complete lack of social graces (apart from smiling and nodding graciously), but ever since Walter mentioned the coming Season, they all began resolving to fix it.

Not that they didn't before, but now they were more diligent about it.

After the servant turned away, Seras slipped off her wig with a frown.

Not only that, but Seras was starting to have things she wanted to say and ask, and was growing frustrated with her inability to do so. Most recently, she wanted to find these fabled clocks in the castle, but couldn't spot any. She wanted to ask the servants, but no words came out.

When she saw the Captain next, she tried to ask him where the clocks were. He said he would tell her once they were back, but he seemed to have forgotten.

"What is it?" he asked when she tried to get his attention.

'You said you would show me the clocks in the castle,' Seras mouthed.

Wouldn't you know it? He couldn't read lips. Seras sighed. None of them could.

"… You need to be more specific, ma cher," he said.

Seras sighed, then tried to mouth the word "clock" while trying to mime it with her hands.

"Clunk?"

'NO!'

No matter what she did, he just didn't understand, and she finally sighed, spun around and sat down.

When he saw Walter walking by, Captain Bernadotte said, "You need to teach her to read and write. No one can understand what she's saying."

"Indeed, sir. I have taken the liberty of sending an ad in the paper for a governess; with his lordship's permission, of course."

"You sure she needs one?" the captain asked. "Isn't she a little… old for one?"

Seras glared at him.

"Indeed, sir, I thought about that too. But, considering what age her behavior reflects…."

Seras slid off her wig and threw it aside, revealing her short jagged hair for all to see.

Pip grimaced. "Good point."

She also took off her gloves with a wry face, and would have removed her shoes had Walter not held her back.

"Can't you blokes just teach her basic skills?" Pip asked. "Her manners aren't that bad. Just have her stand a little straight, teach her letters and she'll be fine."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Monsieur Bernadotte," Walter said. "I'm sure customs are much looser in France…"

"Oh, infamously so," Pip grinned.

Seras made a face and looked away.

"Indeed," Walter agreed, "but here in Queen Victoria's Sovereign Empire, manners and etiquette are the forefront of high society. Class and elegance reign supreme. To be anyone connected to anyone, you must show a superb understanding of strict graces and niceties. Anything as simple as a miss-placed sneeze to an incorrect selection of a dinner fork can ruin a reputation for months, perhaps permanently."

Pip snorted. "Maybe for you stuffy upper crust types. For every one of you bourgeoisie fussing over how to use proper tea spoons, there are at least ten shit-poor 'peasants' living like animals; scurrying like rats in the streets of your big cities or working like dogs in your farms."

"Indeed, sir," Walter said, "And such society I am sure you are deeply acquainted."

Pip grinned. "Oh, intimately."

Seras stuck out her tongue.

Pip playfully pretended to bite it, which caused Seras to retch and turn away.

Pip chuckled.

Walter frowned. "Indeed, sir, and yet I am to understand that a wide division in social opportunities and justice is what caused France to have a revolution."

"Indeed, sir," Pip grinned, "Just as unfair oppression of the lower classes is what caused the colonies to break off from British rule."

Seras looked back and forth between the two men, having no idea what they were talking about.

"Touché, mon ami," Walter smiled. "And yet, there you have it. Unless we have a revolution, manners will continue to rule British society for a long time yet, and the girl must learn to wield them if she is to survive this hostile environment."

"So what? She belongs with the Count; no one's going to care if she's a little loose with her self-presentation."

Seras had gotten up and started looking around curiously.

"Indeed, sir... if she were to stay at home. But since Count Dracula wishes to bring her with him into high society, she must at least make a passing impression of even the slightest understanding of gentility in order not to turn heads."

Pip snorted. "That'll be the day."

He then grinned at her.

He meant that she was so stunning there was no way she could fail to turn heads.

Seras thought he meant that she was too weird or wild, and so frowned and turned away.

Her search was blissfully concluded when she noticed a large grandfather clock standing near the door. She had never looked at it closely before, or stayed in this particular parlor long enough to hear it tick or chime. Now that she saw it move, she gasped and backed up. She marveled at the swinging pendulum and the ticking hands on the clock. It was so big, and beautiful, and intricately carved.

There were now two things Seras could sit and look at for a long time: fire and clocks. The former had such warm and beautiful flames licking about endlessly. The later was something outside of nature that moved on its own, and beautifully so at that.

"So this is what you were looking for, ma cher!" Pip said as he stole behind her.

Seras could not take her eyes off it.

The only things Seras enjoyed more than clocks were horses. As the Count was still eager to take Seras into the forest with him, he soon demanded she take up lessons again despite Walter's imposed "recovery process."

Within a couple of days she was back in the saddle and learning how to trot and canter around the corral, and of course how to get the horse to respond to her commands. How to start moving, go from side to side, stop, back up, and so on.

Sidesaddle was out of the question. Not only was it taking too long for her to master, which displeased the Count tremendously, but it had nearly gotten Seras killed, which displeased everybody. She simply did not have the best hand-eye coordination or balance at the best of times (except when moving on her own two legs), and riding sidesaddle had confounded it.

"But sir!" the staff protested.

"To ride aside is so unseemly for a young lady!"

"Teaching her to ride as such will only confound her learning process!"

"She's already a disgrace to her sex!"

"I will not have you speaking that way about my ward!" the Count thundered.

They cowered and quivered before him, but one just HAD to make the effort!

"But sir…" Carlotta said in her gentlest voice, on strong urging from the others. "You do wish to bring her with you in the coming season?"

"Indeed. And you enjoy stating the obvious," the Count said.

"Indeed, sir, indeed; bit if she does not learn to ride like a proper lady for the season, she will be…"

"Not so different from many other women who choose to make the pursuit," the Count said. "Diane de Poitiers, Marie Antoinette and Catherine the Great all rode astride, with little consequence. It might be considered unseemly in your strict society, but a little unseemliness does not cause spontaneous combustion."

"No, but she will be shunned!"

"She is my ward," the Count said. "She belongs at my side, and mine alone. I enjoy her company, but who else will? What young gentleman will wish to pursue the favor of a mute girl with the mind of a child? After all, she will make for dreadful conversation during pleasantries, and I will not allow her to leave the room. What lady shall wish to invite her over for tea and crumpets, for what would they gossip about?"

The other women had to admit this was true. The girl was mute. Already, this got everyone thinking of her like a child. With no thoughts to speak, everyone assumed she had no thoughts to have. She was also very simple and childlike in personality; easily amazed, easily entertained, easily distracted. She seemed to have no idea how to act like a grown up girl, never mind how to utilize skills that grown up girls were supposed to have: reading, writing, drawing, painting, musical instrument-playing, needlework, etc.

Because of all this and more, everyone saw her like a child. Sometimes an irritating child that did not behave like the good girl she was told to be, but a child none-the-less. In a lot of ways, they simply did not hold her to the same standards they would hold a hearing, speaking girl of the same age and disposition.

In fact, when the Count first said he intended to have the little foundling with him at all times, he had joked (they hoped) that he wanted to have her sleep outside his room on a velvet cushion. Walter had then stepped in with a suggestion that she instead sleep in a nice room down the hall from his. "It's the next best thing," he had said. So Seras got her own room with a large plush bed, satin sheets, embroidered throw pillows, and antique furniture. She was pampered, but so were palace pets.

It's saying something that Seras had been living on land for six weeks and no one had yet learned her name, taught her letters so she could write it down, or even given her a proper one so they would have something to call her besides respectful forms of address or pet names.

With all this in mind, the Count continued: "No, she shall remain by my side when I mingle among insufferable fools in town, and she shall remain by my side as I ride through your so charming the English country. If attempting to ride sidesaddle prevents her from joining me on the hunt, she shall learn a style that does her good. It is as simple as that."

No more was said on the matter.

Seras might have continued learning had she a patient master that was all right with taking as long as she needed to master stylish riding; but the Count had bade her to learn to ride horseback so she could ride through the woods with him. If it took too long and was too dangerous for her, she was to stop. That simple.

"Sir, with all due respect…" Pip sighed in exasperation.

"I've waited long enough to take my foundling into the forest," the Count frowned, "I will not be delayed."

"Sir," he said with a firm tone, "with all due respect, she was making progress on sidesaddle. Now I'll have to take her down and teach her all new riding techniques, straight from the ground up. It will take a while for her to discard her old habits and adjust to using new ones."

"You have so little faith in my foundling," the Count smirked.

'I'm the one that found her,' Pip thought, but dared not say it out loud.

"Riding astride is much simpler than riding sidesaddle, I imagine," the Count smirked. "Once she sees how much simpler it is, she shall gladly discard her old habits in place of new ones."

Captain Bernadotte agreed, but soon they were presented with a different problem.

"She's not a very good rider as it is, but her thick poofy skirts make the mount difficult."

So the Count ordered a gentlemen's riding suit for her so she could easily ride astride and accompany him on his hunts through the forest. Seras was deeply fascinated by such wear and again had more fun running her fingers over it and experiment moving in it than she did actually going about her day.

Seras found it much simpler and more comfortable than her usual dresses. A full white shirt with long sleeves and a waistcoat atop a comfortable pair of trousers and knee-high black riding boots. Of course she had to wear her corset and drawers underneath for support and comfort, but that hardly mattered! The whole thing was so much looser and more comfortable; particularly her trousers and boots! Why couldn't women have leg wear like that?

When she saw Captain Bernadotte again, she grinned and spread her arms to show off how nifty it looked!

Pip smirked. "You'd look like a boy if your breasts weren't so big."

Seras frowned.

"Come on," and he led her out.

The grooms and stable boys found her outfit hilarious too, and did not hold punches laughing and poking fun at her. They knew their Captain wouldn't snitch, and the girl could not say anything to the Count. It's a shame to say much of the staff had picked up this habit of saying things to her knowing she could never relay it, though only the grooms and stable boys were malicious about it.

"Ha ha, very funny. We all got a good laugh," Pip said as they entered the stables.

Seras ignored them and held out a carrot for the Old Grey. She always loved coming to see him, partly because he did not judge or poke fun the way the others did. The horses never cared how she walked, looked or dressed. As long as she came with food and treated them nicely, she could walk around coated in mud for all they cared. (She actually had after getting thrown into a mud puddle. The men laughed themselves silly. The horses just wanted to know if she had carrots hidden under it.)

"Have you ever tried giving them sugar cubes?" the Captain asked.

He said "them" because she had developed a habit of feeding horses as she went down along the stalls. Now most of them nickered and whinnied when they saw her.

Seras looked at him curiously, and shook her head.

Pip presented her with one of those white lumps she always put in her tea.

"I'm sure you see these all the time, and drink them in your fancy tea parties," he said.

Seras nodded, accepted it, and fed it to the horse. ('Palm flat, fingers far away from the mouth,' she thought nervously.)

"Of course, you can eat them yourself," the Captain smirked, and he popped it in his mouth and chewed suggestively.

She frowned, shoved him aside, and turned to the horse.

"You could probably get more sugar cubes in one of those frou-frou tea parties with the Count," Captain Bernadotte said. "The kind you put in your tea."

So the next time Seras had tea with the Count, she indeed started loading up on sugar cubes to take back to the horse. Both he and Walter stared as she loaded them up, then realized it must be for the horse since she never did it for herself before.

"My dear little foundling, is that all?" the Count asked in a voice that was all sugar. "I shall have sugar cubes sent down to the grey. Walter…"

Seras was a little disappointed. She wanted to bring them down and give them to the horse herself. It just wasn't the same when other people did it for her.

In fact, Seras was becoming quite fond of her time with the Old Grey. She often looked forward to going to his stall so she could pet him, feed him, and groom him. She loved the way he nickered when he saw her, the way he would snuffle and blow warm air into her face (the captain said that was his way of saying hello, so she blew into his face right back), the way he would nudge her shoulder with his face to get her to rub or scratch it, the way he figured out where she stored her carrots and apples in her clothes and would often try nibbling at that spot to get them out.

The Captain was also letting her lead the Old Grey out of his stall, which the other men laughed and snickered at, but Seras hardly cared because she enjoyed it. At first she was nervous, then amazed that this huge animal passively walked behind her. She didn't even have to yank the rope. She just held it in her hands and the horse followed with the rope still loose. She stopped, he stopped. She turned, he turned. No directions, no instructions, no struggling with the rope.

That was hardly what Seras saw around the tables. The grooms often took the horses out to give them exercise, clean their stables, and… well, groom them. Most of the horses were good, but some of the horses shied like Dodger, others were more difficult. They had a beautiful chestnut with a long neck and legs that was often struggling with the rope. Seras was afraid this would be the same

Seras grinned when she and the Old Grey got to the tacking area.

Captain Bernadotte grinned. He had known that getting her to help lead, groom, and tack her own horse would help build a bond and trust in the long run (even though she was more nervous at the start).

This trust came in handy when it came time to ride again. As for the lessons, riding astride was easier in some ways, harder in others. Unfortunately, the harder part was getting on. The one good thing about sidesaddles were they were easy to slip on into. Step on Captain Bernadotte's hand, let him hoist her onto the saddle, hook her right leg over the pommel, then let him make sure both her legs were snugly tucked around the pommels (right leg over, left leg under), hook her feet to the stirrups (yes, dear reader, she had stirrups despite both legs being on one side), smooth out her skirt, hand her her riding crop, then lead the horse over to the corral. There, he would do lunges and give her instructions on how not to fall off.

Considering how much difficulty Seras had in learning how to get into the sidesaddle, you can guess how much difficulty she had with the men's saddle.

Captain Bernadotte thought about giving her a lift into the saddle like usual, but considering she had to swing her right leg over the horse's back to sit on, he decided it would be better for both their healths if he just taught her how to do it correctly.

Seras followed his instructions exactly. "Stand at the horse's left side." "Grab a handful of the horse's mane near the base of the neck with your left hand and the pommel of your saddle with your right hand." Concern. "Go on, grab a larger handful." Gingerly. "Aw, come on, you're scared you're going to hurt him? Don't worry about it." He grabbed a large handful and moved it around. "They're strong creatures, these horses." She did as she was told.

"All right, make sure you aren't standing too close." Step. "O' right, make sure you are not standing too far away." Step. "Make sure there is one foot distance between you and your horse." Careful inspection. Sigh. He placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her to where she needed to be.

"All right, what you are going to need to do is place your left food in the stirrup. ('Put the foot inside the stirrup before getting on the horse? How queer!' Seras thought. It was a testament to how accustomed she had been getting to sidesaddle procedures.) A few clumsy tries and one stirrup lowering later, and she got it!

"All right, this is something you need to pay attention to. You need to grip your saddle firmly, bend your knees, and brace yourself. What you are going to do is put all your weight into one big step with your left foot, but stay light on your feet. Also be sure to use plenty of momentum with your right leg, because what you are going to do is press down on the saddle with your hands, tack a firm step onto the stirrup with your left foot, while using a lot of momentum to swing your right foot over the saddle."

It made absolutely no sense, and was full of contradictions.

"Also, when you bend your knees, stick out your rear from the back. You'll gain momentum," some of the grooms snickered.

They were standing a ways off, watching Seras get ready to mount the horse from the left side.

"That's enough out of you! Get back to work!" Pip snapped.

"Geez, Captain, tou-chy!"

"The Captain just wants her all to himself."

"No, I want to teach her how to ride so her master does not make a pack animal out of me."

They snickered.

"Or jobless bums out of you."

Suddenly there was a lot of mucking and whistling.

"Here. Stand aside, mademoiselle, and I'll show you how it is done."

Oh! He had her place her foot in that difficult stirrup only to make her take it out again.

"Practice makes perfect, ma cher," he grinned.

Seras blew big breaths.

The dogs were lying by the barn door, panting and smiling.

Captain Bernadotte got on and off the horse a couple of times (or "mounted" and "dismounted," as those horse people called it) just for her benefit. He even showed her the steps as he was doing them to getting on. (Bending his knees, tensing his hands, making a giant step with his left foot while at the same time swinging around on his right, etc.)

Seras scowled. Easy for him to do. He was a full head taller than her, and had longer legs besides.

As soon as it was her turn, all the problems that could happen, did. She placed all her weight into the left leg and took a firm step down, but forgot the part about swinging her right leg around, and so the entire saddle tipped over onto its left side and she awkwardly fell off. She gained more momentum but still didn't swing the right leg, and so was left standing there balancing on her left foot in the stirrup, on a tipped over saddle. (The Old Grey perked his ears and looked over to see what was going on.) She tried several times to get her right leg over, but fell short every time. She finally gained enough momentum, but unfortunately too much and once again scaled the saddle and fell down from the right side with a loud thump.

Every time she did the horse would slightly start and rotate his ears around, but Pip kept him steady.

"You are not going to make a habit out of this, are you?" he asked her as he looked down.

She threw a handful of dirt at him, but as she was still on the ground it fell back in her face.

Eventually she finally made it on, and the Old Grey shifted around, she started to get nervous but Captain Bernadotte held him steady and gave the reigns to Seras.

"Horses are very sensitive animals," he said seriously. "They can sense how you feel and what you want, and will do it magnified. When you get nervous and fidgety, they get nervous and twitchy. You feel confident, they feel confident. You worry so much about falling down? You're going to ride in such a way that will make you fall, if unintentionally. If you keep your head tall and look up, your horse will ride in such a way that you stay up. So relax. Keep your your head up, and look to the sky. Your horse will do the same."

Seras tried taking his advice to heart.

Thankfully it didn't take long for Seras to realize she had way more control over her balance and herself while astride on the Old Grey. On the sidesaddle, she always felt like she was just barely perched by the tip of her bottom and could easily fall. Even though the sidesaddle pommels were sturdy as wood (in fact, they were made of wood) and her legs were wrapped tightly around them, as well as her feet to stirrups and her skirts around them, Seras still felt like she was floating in space. Like she could just lean back and fall off from the right side, or lean too far "forward" (which, for her, was the front left side) and cause the entire saddle to shift, etc. She just didn't feel very secure.

When riding astride, Seras felt much more in control much more quickly. Both her legs were draped around the Old Grey's sides and her hands were clutching his mane. She felt like she could lean forward, backwards, or to the sides without any risk of falling or straining her back, and if things got dicey she could squeeze his sides with her legs and clutch his neck with her hands… which just caused him to go faster, which made her panic.

"Unless you want to go forward, keep leaning forward and squeezing with your legs," Pip said. "If you want him to slow down or stop, you need to lean back, loosen your legs, and give his reigns a light but steady tug."

It seemed very counter-intuitive for Seras. Clutching the horse's sides felt like the safest, most secure thing to do when she wanted safety and comfort, yet that was what made him want to go faster?

The rest of the lessons continued rather well. Seras had to remember posture, which way to lean for each situation, foot placement, reign control, and so on. The basics flew by much more quickly than on sidesaddle and Captain Bernadotte was soon teaching her how to get the horse to respond to her commands. How to get the Old Grey to move forward when she wanted, when and how to move from side to side, how fast to go, how sharp to make the turns, how to back up, how to stop, etc.

The men were still laughing and tittering in the distance. Mostly about a young lady wearing men's clothes and riding like a man, but also because she was dumb and could not give verbal commands. Most horses were trained with verbal cues; clicking to go, going "Whoa!" or "Ho!" to stop, etc.

"Ye're wasting yer time, Captain," one of his men said. "There's no way she can control the horse without being able to talk."

"She can do well enough with her arms and legs, thank you."

Pip often had to remind her to be more firm with her horse since she had a "butterfly's touch" (as he called it), and she needed to let the horse know what she wanted. Let him know it was a command she wanted obeyed now, not a light suggestion that he could carry out whenever he felt like it. Seras liked having the Old Grey respond to her every touch, but she didn't want to be cruel or pushy.

Around the stables, Seras saw the grooms being very harsh with the horses; always jerking and yanking and whipping them when they got the least bit fidgety. They still had that flighty Dodger that spooked over everything, that hot-blooded Hotspur that was always itching to run, that horrible stallion that Seras quivered at the mere sight of, and that beautiful red that was always rearing and snapping. Every time the horses did something that was not perfect obedience, the grooms would yank and even whip them.

This made Seras more and more unhappy each time she came out, and it just made her resolve to be more and more gentle with the Grey, and to pet him every time he did right.

The Count was very pleased with her progress, and soon she was joining him for his daily ride out in the grounds and the woods.

She was already mounted when they brought out his black stallion, and she was still very nervous around him, which was still huge, powerful, aggressive, and always stamping and snorting about. Her nervousness made her grey a little shifty, but Seras forced herself to relax and patted his neck to steady him. She saw her master mount the huge black beast, which tried to tear off into a run but which he held back with a strong yank and sharp turn with the reigns, and Seras was VERY happy with her mellow grey.

After the Count was mounted, he tore off with his stallion out into the grounds, with Seras rode after him. The stallion wanted to run in a full gallop, but Seras had not ridden that fast before, so with time the Count slowed the beast to a fast canter so Seras could keep up. This was still a little fast for comfort, but it was a speed Seras and the Old Grey could live with. Besides, to be by the Count's side, she would ride any horse at any speed to keep up with his stallion. At first it made her nervous and prevented her from enjoying the open fields and skies, beautiful trees and canopies as they rode around. But then she remembered the Captain's words about feelings affecting horses (though she was still extremely cross with him), and she looked at the sky, clouds, and birds flying in it, and tried to feel light and imagine she was flying atop the horse into the sky. It worked.

Soon Seras was able to marvel at the beautiful emerald fields, the fruitful orchards, see the people that tilled the fields, and admire the beauty of the woods. She had wanted to go in since she'd seen them, and found they were way beautiful to ride through. Tall noble trees that rose high like kelp forests, with large arching canopies of leaves, with golden sunlight raining through. Clear fresh brooks and fallen logs to leap over.

It was marvelous.

Unfortunately, back at the castle, Walter was succeeding in finding a governess. They tried two before they found the right one. The first woman was rather young and pretty, but didn't realize that "mute" meant she really couldn't talk at all, not just that she rarely talked or had lost her voice to a cold. She tried to work with Seras for a few days, but then complained, "How can I know she's learning if she can't tell me?"

"I daresay you can ask her if she understands," Walter said.

"Or read her facial expressions," Captain Bernadotte said. "Always works for me. That girl is an open book."

'Of course he's here,' Seras thought.

She hissed at him like a cat.

The governess gasped. "I daresay!"

The next governess believed in eloquence for young ladies. Walter took her on because he thought it would be a good way to teach Seras communication. Unfortunately, the woman believed mostly in gracefully speaking and singing. She felt that the way ladies engaged in social niceties and conversations was most important. When she realized Seras could not speak a word, she was very put out. Not only that, but when she learned that Seras did not understand basic skills like reading, writing, drawing, etc. she thought Seras was very dumb. After all, most young girls learned such things around ages seven or nine. Seras was clearly far older, and the fact that she did not (along with her muteness) convinced the woman that she was bordering on mental retardation.

After several failed lessons in which she tried to teach Seras while speaking to her like she was the slowest, stupidest thing that ever existed, ending with Seras throwing up the papers in frustration, the woman declared that the girl was the stupidest little beast she had ever had the displeasure of working with, incapable of learning even the most basic lessons in civility, and that they were wasting time trying to civilize her. She said they might as well lock her in a dark asylum for all the good they were doing her.

Seras chucked her shoe at the woman on her way out.

The third governess was somewhere between the first two. She was far more strict than the first one, but she was not completely convinced that the girl was incapable of learning like the second. She was a middle-aged woman who woe her collar and her hair tight, her clothes fully buttoned, dark and plain, an had far more experience teaching children than most. Over-exposure to the job had made her strict, harsh, and unrelenting. She believed that a firm hand and strict adherence to rules, schedules, and self-control was what all children needed. She was, in short, a perfect embodiment of the standard elderly English woman of the time. Queen Victoria would have approved of her.

Over the next few weeks, the training from Hell commenced. Seras was no longer allowed to run wild through the castle, skip, slouch, eat with any utensil she wanted, or shirk the hobbies young ladies of her age and station were supposed to enjoy.

Many an evening Seras had to practice walking with a large book on her head. It was easier to stay on because the servants made her wear her wigs of long hair tied loosely up. Now they pinned her wig to her hair so it was harder to tear off though. Under the tutelage of her governess, Seras had to practice walking with posture and head placement even enough to balance a book.

Often Seras dropped it, and always had to stoop down to get it herself.

"It will incentive her to prevent it from dropping," her governess said to a concerned servant.

When it slipped again, Seras clutched it and threw it angrily to the floor.

At the dinner table, Walter took to tying Seras to the back of her chair with a loose cloth to force her to sit up straight. Until this point, Seras would hunch over and shovel food in her mouth (though thankfully never slurped or chewed with her mouth open), no matter how much she was reprimanded. Now, her governess saw that she used correct posture, used the correct eating utensils, ate the correct portions per spoon and fork full, ate a correct balance of food per course (now she could only have one pudding instead of three and have at least one helping of vegetables instead of none), and was not allowed to have too many desserts.

Seras' eyes sparkled when she saw Walter bringing out the apple turnovers and she reached eagerly for one.

Her governess slapped her hand. "Ah ah ah, not until he has set down the tray."

Seras frowned and rubbed her hand, then reached eagerly after the tray was set.

Again, her governess slapped her hand. "Ah ah ah, ladies don't reach for their desserts. You politely request someone to pass it over to you."

Seras looked at her as though to say, 'Seriously?!'

"Though, I suppose, in your particular circumstance, you may wait for someone to pass it over to you."

Seras sighed deeply, then held up her plate with puppy eyes.

"Now you look like a beggar!" the governess exclaimed.

Walter smiled though, and was about to happily oblige Seras when her governess again spoke up. "She'll not have any desserts, Mr. Dornez."

'WHAT?!' Seras expression seemed to scream.

"I beg your pardon?" Walter asked.

"She has not finished her vegetables, and so she does not get any sweets."

'What? No! That's not fair! You could have warned me!' Seras exclaimed in her own head.

Walter seemed to think so too, because he said words to the same effect, if significantly more politely. "… It hardly does any good to punish her without informing her first that she has done wrong," he concluded.

"I told her that good girls finish their vegetables, and she chose to ignore me. Therefore, I choose to withhold her desserts. This way, she shall remember in the future."

'You must be joking!' Seras thought miserably. 'I want apple turnovers!'

She desperately tried to say, 'Please bring back the vegetables! I'll eat them now! I promise I'll eat them!'

But she could not speak and had not yet learned to write, and no one thought to suggest it.

She knocked at the table to get her master's attention, then wildly gestured toward her governess. 'Do something!'

"Do what she says, my dear," he said simply, turning back to his paper. "The sooner you learn, the sooner we can put these lessons behind us."

Seras let out a loud hiss through her teeth that sounded like steam let out of a train, and leaned dramatically back in her chair with a look of utter misery.

"Now, let's not be dramatic," the governess said. "It's time to continue your lessons."

Overcome with frustration, Seras started kicking and flailing about.

"Ladies do not kick at the table!"

In the parlor, Seras was forced to sit up straight, fold her hands delicately in her lap, and only cross her legs at the ankle and tuck them behind the chair leg. ('I'm wearing a skirt!' Seras thought angrily, 'I'm wearing several skirts. No one can tell the difference!') The governess again got between Seras and the Count by instructing Seras on the right way to sit and pass the time.

No longer could Seras lean comfortably back in the plush armchair, or recline on the sofa (and sometimes take a nap), or sit at the edge of the fireplace admiring the fire (she could do so for hours), or look around the room at nothing in particular, or flip through the books admiring the pictures in them. No, now she had to have a specific purpose for being there and do so with the correct way to pass the time.

Even though her master could recline in his armchair looking bored and comfortable, lost to this world because of whatever scrawls on the pages that had caught his interest, Seras had to sit up straight no matter what she did. Since Seras still couldn't read, and those lessons took place at a different part of the day, she had to pass the time in other ways, particularly drawing and sewing.

Seras used to enjoy drawing as a basic means of passing the time, but her governess often chastised her work as "the scribbles of toddlers" and constantly instructed her on how to do better. Her constant criticisms took all the fun out of it for Seras. Soon she no longer WANTED to draw or paint because she knew it would just get criticized. It was too late to back out though since her governess was determined to teach her how.

"An accomplishment suitable for young ladies," she said.

Seras frowned as she dipped the brush into the water and smeared it on the paper.

"No, no, you are holding the brush incorrectly. You must hold it gently, on the tips of your fingers, like so. And remember posture."

Seras also developed a very quick and passionate loathing for needlework. In the first place, needles are sharp. In the second place, they poked Seras constantly. In the third place, her governess chastised her bloodied and bandaged hands as being unladylike by the third day; never mind how much they hurt. In the fourth place, one has to have an eye for spacial awareness, patterns, knots, etc. Seras always put the needle through the wrong loops, couldn't remember fancy knots, often got the threads tangled up, etc.

Her governess was constantly criticizing her work, which only made Seras even more miserable and frustrated. Every second of sewing felt like pure torture. Finally Seras got so fed up she took her needlework over to the balcony and threw it out the window.

The Count laughed himself a fit to die.

"It seems your services regarding the needlework are no longer required," he said with a toothy grin.

"Indeed!" the woman sniffed.

Thankfully the governess was not so horrible around tea time, because Seras had already started to get used to sitting up straight and taking small sips and bites. Unfortunately, the woman still chastised her on holding the tea cup properly. No slurping (even though Seras never slurped), no holding the tea cup without also holding the saucer under it ('WHY?!' Seras thought miserably), and she must extend the pinky.

'What?' Seras thought.

"When holding your tea cup, you must extend the smallest of your fingers to show your graceful, ladylike movements."

'That is the dumbest thing I ever heard,' Seras thought angrily.

Of all the ridiculous rules—extend the pinky when holding a cup? Really? Of all things, someone decided to make a rule about that?

"Ladies also do not crinkle their beautiful noses or furrow their smooth brows," the governess said.

Perhaps the best and worst lessons were "The Three Rs." For a few hours every day (because the Count would not part with Seras for too long), the governess would sit Seras down in a study and teach her reading, writing, and arithmetic. Particularly reading and writing, because Seras couldn't speak and desperately needed a way to communicate with others beyond facial expressions and pantomime.

Reading and writing lessons were best in that her governess did not force her to change the way she already did things. Seras did not have to learn to sit, stand, walk, eat, drink, draw, or paint differently. The lessons were the worst in that they were boring and tedious. Walter had already taught her a bit before the governess was hired, so Seras already had an idea of how things worked. This turned out to be best, because the governess was so strict and unrelenting that Seras did not learn it very well.

Much like the painting and needlework, the governess's constant criticism sunk Seras' spirits and she just felt miserable. She was afraid to write anything down because the woman critiqued her hand writing, spelling, and letter placement. Not to mention that different letters sometimes had the same sound (like "C" and "S" making the "sss" sound), and often the same letters made different sounds (like "C" sometimes making the "sss" sound and sometimes making the "k" sound).

It would be tedious to go over all the details, but once they had gotten far enough in the lessons, the governess would sound out words or sentences and expect Seras to write it down.

"Cat" she would say out loud, and then reprimand Seras for spelling Kat.

"The cat sat on the mat," she would say, and then reprimand Seras for not capitalizing the first letter but do so for others.

Oh yes, capitals and lower cases. The governess had taught her the difference and said words were always lower case unless it was the first letter in the sentence, or the name of people and places. Since most objects had names, Seras assumed all objects had names.

For Seras, "The cat sat on the mat" was spelled "the Cat sat on the Mat." "The Boat floats in the Mote." Etc.

The governess gave her lines to write to bring back to her ("practice" she called it). Whenever Seras saw Walter, she asked him to help her. Or, rather, held it out with such a pitiful look he had to stop and help. Whenever he had a moment, Walter would help tutor Seras in her letters, which helped Seras much more in the long run.

That, along with many other errors, contributed to how her lessons went.

Finally, the day came when Walter felt confident that Seras had learned enough to spell her own name.

"Oh, isn't this exciting?" Carlotta exclaimed as they gathered around.

"I've wanted to know for a long time."

"Really? I haven't. I've just come to think of her as 'Little Miss.'"

"Young lady, would you mind spelling out your name for us?" Walter asked.

Seras hesitated. The governess reprimanded her so much, she was almost afraid to spell her own name lest they yell at her. Then again, it was her name. How were they to know how it was spelled? Then again, what if her name was common here in the human world? The governess and other servants often talked about "Queen Victoria."

Seras intently at the page, wondering how she should spell it. Should it be "Seres" or "Ceres"? Or "Cerec?" Maybe "S" would be safe since "S" always made the sss sound while "C" only made the "sss" sound sometimes. What about vowels? Should it be "Seres"? No, her first vowel was higher than the second. Should it be or "Seras" or "Serous"? Maybe…? No.

And what about "Victoria"? Should it be "Victoria" or "Viktoria?" Or a "Y" instead of an "I"?

With a trembling hand, Seras took her quill and wrote what seemed best to her. They stared as they scrawled the letters.

"Seras Victoria," Walter murmured out loud.

"That's your name?"

Seras nodded.

"Oh, what a beautiful name!" one of the maids exclaimed.

"Is that your entire name?" Walter asked.

Seras nodded, confused. How could it not?

"And what of your father?"

Walter asked because "Seras" and "Victoria" both seemed like given names, for girls in particular, not family names. How many men could boast of having "Victoria" as a surname? Walter thought if they knew her surname, it would make it easier to find where she came from.

Seras' face dropped. Thinking of her mother and father always brought her great sorrow. She was also afraid to write his name because it felt like a terrible summoning spell, or something. He had always loved the ocean, even more than her mother did. She felt like writing his name here would summon his spirit onto land or something, which she knew he would never want. Dragging her father out of the sea seemed about as bad as dragging Seras back into it.

"I simply ask because I want to know your family name; perhaps where they came from. Hopefully we can find your family, or perhaps learn of a girl who matches your description who went missing."

Seras' eyes widened fearfully, and then she shook her head.

The maids gasped. "What?"

"Why not, Miss Victoria?"

Seras bit her lip, pushed the papers away and then got up to flee.

"Miss Victoria! No running in the halls!" the governess called after her.

Word soon spread like fire around the castle that their little foundling's name was "Seras Victoria," but most people called her what they had been calling her. The Count kept calling her his "little foundling" or "dear foundling" or "ward," Captain Bernadotte kept calling her "ma cher," the maids kept calling her "miss," the grooms and gardens (basically all the male staff that used to sail for the Wild Geese) kept calling her "yer ladyship" and other mocking names. The only one that changed the way he addressed her was Walter, who went from calling her "Young Miss" to "Miss Victoria."

Seras was grateful for it.

Due to her fear and refusal to write down where she came from, theories about where she came from came about. It was more an idle curiosity than a burning desire to learn where she came from. Most believed strongly that it was an asylum, perhaps for the orphaned or the insane, that she came from. It all seemed to make sense now. Her turning up mute and injured on the beach in not but rags, her complete lack of manners and etiquette, her seeming lack of knowledge in anything normal people were long used to, her fear and sorrow when people asked where she was from… It seemed to make sense.

Needless to say, Maudy tore into one of her elaborate stories about how she had been "cruelly locked away in a dark asylum by her mother and father from a young age, where she spent years being raised in darkness among such horrid wild women and nurses that treated her with utter cruelty, where she has known not the kindest word in the world, and never got to experience life as a young girl!" Then she sobbed on Seras' shoulder.

Seras thought this was the closest guess yet.


I decided to get rid of the scene with the filly because it looked better in my mind.