Real Life Princesses

Warning: This story is rated T. It contains language, violence and -gasp- more violence. Be warned and be good.

Disclaimer: Hellsing and its characters are the property of Kohta Hirano and his publishers; I have no stake in them.

This story is set in January 1947.

Chapter 11

In the many buildings and rooms of the Royal Lodge, servants slept fitfully. A herald tossed about as he dreamed of the war, the bombing of Dresden. Only, in his dream the dead spoke, taunting one another about the damage they could do to the beautiful places, the destruction they would make of one another. For one kitchen maid, the sound of gunfire put her inside a movie about detectives and gangsters. It was a movie where she stood helpless, crying as her boyfriend was gunned down. She knew in the end the hero would triumph, but what good would it do when her lover was dead? She tossed and turned, then settled into a deeper sleep.

Another young woman was clawing her way out of her comfortable dream, out of unconsciousness and into a nightmare. I'm cold, she thought, why am I so damned cold? Her body was shivering out of control and she was moving, being moved about. What? By who? She scrambled to make sense of what was going on, but her brain felt like it was covered in a dense felted wool. Why? A slow trickle of memories came to the surface of her mind. Red eyes... a monster... Her right hand clutched the familiar fabric of her nightgown as an absurd need to retain modesty overtook her. She wondered if she'd worn knickers? Margaret heard the sound of a man chuckling softly to himself once her hearing came back to her. Her left arm was being roughly wrapped. She opened her eyes to see the side and back of the man, his face obscured by black hair as he bent to cut a makeshift bandage with his teeth. No! Margaret squeezed her eyes shut. Fangs, with his fangs... she knew what she would see when she opened her eyes again and it sickened her. Used! She felt used and dirty. Why had she thought he loved her? Considering how weak she was, it wasn't the wisest thing to do, but through trembling lips she cursed him.

Alucard smiled indulgently as he stood, "Good morning, Princess. It's time to get moving." He waited. She stared at his gloved hand, extended to assist her up. Her look went from angry to questioning, but time was of the essence. Alucard tried a different approach, "Please forgive me Princess, that didn't go as well as I'd planned." When that still didn't get her to move, the vampire leaned over her, arms encircling her waist as he lifted her up from the floor to standing.

"Stop that! Don't you touch me!" Margaret flailed at his hands, but once upright she was so light headed she had to reach for his clothing to keep from falling. The box in the middle of the room was destroyed, in fact the whole room looked like a war had been fought in it. Gunpowder perfumed the air and she tried to piece together what had happened until the vampire leaned over her once more. "What're you doing!" She protested as he picked her up this time in one arm; she saw a machine gun balanced in the other.

"Protecting you," he looked down at her, his smile broadening as she closed her mouth, aware enough of the danger to accept what he was saying. He watched her sigh and shift so she was seated on his arm rather than carried like a bundle of rags. She clamped her arms around his neck as he ran up the stairs from the stone room.

A winter storm kicked up suddenly and chunks of ice pelted the car. Walter sat in silence beside the crown princess. Her mood darkened as they neared the compound. "What happened," the words sounded forced and she didn't look at the boy, "between you two?"

Walter hoped he knew who she meant, he didn't want to seem dense, "Nothing! She... we didn't do anything, nothing happened..." he looked at the princess unsure. The glare he received didn't clear anything up, so he went on, "She, she just came to my room, but I swear I didn't invite her... um she wanted to go out... we went to look at the stars," he couldn't meet her eye, so he looked at his rings, twisting an errant one on his index finger. "But the vampire--" Walter was speaking softly, even so he looked up to make sure the men in the front didn't notice his slip up. The guard was asleep and the chauffeur seemed to be drifting in and out as he drove along the country roads.

"Alucard?" she prompted.

"No, the, um... the other, the weak one. I ran to stop it and she..." He sighed, "Alucard said she was steamed at me but I didn't do anything..." Walter felt crushed by the pain in her eyes when he finally dared to look at her.

A knot had been forming in her stomach as he spoke. It twisted in her gut as a horrible thought wormed its way into her heart; her sister might have had more than one reason to go out that night, more than one reason to stay home tonight. "The one... it, Sir Hellsing said it was sent to make contact?"

Walter followed the train of thought, "Yes but... your Highness! I'm sure it's not like that." The drift of the car had become more noticeable. Walter saw serious nodding by the driver, "Um, ma'am? Your Highness? Miss?" She was fighting an internal battle and he had trouble getting her attention until the car swerved off the drive to the Lodge. The storm was pounding down a mixture of snow and ice, but Walter didn't hesitate to jump out into it and open the driver's door, pushing the sleeping man over onto the loudly snoring bodyguard, "Oi! What's wrong with you two!" There was no response, so he turned back to Elizabeth, "You may want to hold on ma'am, I'm still learning." After a grinding sound, the limousine lurched forward toward the pale buildings.

The outside lights were subdued compared to Buckingham Palace, but the buildings reflected the lightning so that it was nearly as bright. Strangely, no soldiers stepped out into the storm to challenge them. As they passed through the large gates, Elizabeth touched his shoulder from the backseat. "Walter? What's going on?" She asked. The car ground to a halt some distance from the front. Elizabeth leaned forward to see the boy's face, she watched his look harden.

"Stay here," he whispered to her but she shook her head angrily. "Don't you dare," she growled back at him. Who did he think she was to be ordered about in her own home! Walter looked at the two sleeping men, the snow and the proud set of her jaw. He imagined she'd be even harder to dissuade than her sister.

In another car fishtailing through the night, Islands gripped the dashboard as Hellsing drove at a maddening speed through the foul weather. "This is why we have chauffeurs, Arthur!" he gasped.

"Oh relax, Islands," Arthur lied, "I do this all the time." For one thing he'd never driven in a storm and this storm was not natural. Hellsing felt that in his bones. It had been clear earlier in the evening and a storm this intense couldn't have just arrived. For another, while he did enjoy racing, he usually raced motorbikes. A limousine does not handle like a motorbike, especially on a slick road. "Besides, we don't have time to wait for servants to get ready. Just keep holding on." It also would've been easier if he could keep his mind on the road instead of worrying about what chaos his servants were wreaking at the Lodge. How could he salvage his chances at royal favor now? Alucard had alerted him to the new danger. Expect heavy damage he'd said. Dear God, Hellsing thought, with both princesses there by now?

"You don't suppose they're in league do you?" Islands yawned, finally releasing his death grip on the car. "I mean he said it was a female and he did know--"

Arthur interrupted with a laugh, "He's never in league with another vampire, Hugh! You know that. He'd rather exterminate the whole lot of them!" As they neared their destination, Islands seemed to be having a harder time fighting sleep, so Arthur went on, trying to keep his fellow Knight engaged, "It's his real mission, in a way. The reason he's with us."

"So," another large yawn, "what does he do... once he's got them... all?" The adrenaline that had kept Islands awake seemed gone now and he settled back into the seat, resting his head on his arm, only barely hearing Hellsing's soft reply, "Then I'll miss him."

The storm raged outside the mansion as Alucard raced through the hallways. Snow, sleet, thunder, he thought, all strong and well sustained. It pleased him that his enemy had bothered to conjure it. Did she seek to impress him? If so, that was a weakness he could exploit. She'd been injured by the blessed bullets in their first encounter and he wondered how long she would continue to try and hide from him. Would she leave without her prize? Alucard hoped not. She'd wanted the books enough to risk all of her minions at once; she'd wanted them enough to face him. He shifted his arm with the princess perched on it; she looked giddy at the speed they reached on the longer corridors. A new plan was in order, he thought.

"Who are we fighting?" Margaret ventured to ask when he stopped to listen at a doorway.

Alucard's look was serious, but he spared a smile at her, "We?" He knelt, balancing the girl easily and putting down his gun. A white gloved finger swept along the carpet and came up with a trace of dark red stain which he cleaned quickly with his tongue. "In a manner of speaking, one of my daughters." They were moving again before she could speak and she didn't dare talk due to the effort of holding on.

Arthur Hellsing kept up a lively conversation with the sleeping Sir Islands. He slowed down, due more to the whiteout than how close he was to the compound. As he reached the punchline of a particularly filthy joke, a figure suddenly loomed in the headlights. Brakes squealed and tires dug for traction on the slippery road. Arthur checked that his passenger was unhurt, then opened the door to see if the man outside was down.

It wasn't as cold as he expected, wet and slippery mainly. A man scrambled toward the bank on the far side of the road, apparently unhurt. "Sorry I scared you," Hellsing shouted over the strong wind, but the man seemed not to hear. The man shielded his face, but a glimpse of his eyes revealed fear far worse than a brush with an automobile would inspire. "Sorry, really. Crazy storm, isn't it?" he approached the man, smiling broadly in the hopes it would put him at ease, but if anything the man's movements became wilder. As he narrowed the space, the man folded into himself, crumpling into the wet slush with sobs. "Hey now, it's okay," Arthur stayed alert, not taken in by this show of insanity. The man launched himself once the distance had closed, reaching for Arthur's neck. Recognition shocked Arthur more than the attack and his hesitation gave the crazed man a chance. "Jameson," Hellsing gasped, fighting to pull hands from his throat.

They wrestled for minutes, eyes locked in combat every bit as difficult as their bodies. When his opponent began to falter, Hellsing chalked it up to the man not understanding how hard it is, in actuality, to choke a fighting victim, unaware that his eyes had flared red at the addled butler. Jameson ran as Arthur fell, one hand on his chest and the other keeping his body away from the cold wet ground. Dragging air back into his body, he watched his assailant scamper away into the field. A brush with Alucard's mind passed reassurances in both directions, and he breathed easier. The princesses were both well, Alucard was tracking the enemy and still confident. Then the connection broke as the vampire found his prey.

Shots rang out in a broken staccato as Walter and the crown princess neared the Royal's private wing. Elizabeth grabbed hold of his arm in fright. He stopped and looked at her, speechless for a moment. "What was that?" she asked.

"Ma'am? I don't think you should be... that is, I need my arm free," his face flushed pink at the feel of her touch as well as the need to correct someone whose station in life was so far above his own.

"I thought the fighting was over," she said, dropping his arm, but standing as close to him as she could. She tried to muster up her courage and was flustered over showing weakness in front of this boy. Elizabeth looked at him; he seemed older now. Where had the shots come from? Was Margaret safe? She began to question which command the beast would follow, to crush the thief or to protect her sister? Were they one and the same? Her mind ran wild with worry.

"It was over," Walter had no doubt in Lord Alucard or Sir Hellsing; something had changed. He had yet to find one person awake and somewhere the machine gun kept up its rhythm. If he didn't have to play bodyguard, Walter would be running toward it. "We'd better get you to safety." He turned her by the elbow so that they faced away from the family's quarters.

"Stop that! No," she protested, pushing away from him and turning back toward the hallway. This time his touch was rougher as he turned her again, calmly explaining the need for her to avoid the fighting. She regretted it the instant she slapped him, but her frustration at being handled and thwarted overwhelmed her. In the quiet corridor, the sound was as loud as a gunshot. Elizabeth was as shocked by it as he seemed to be, though his surprise was quickly replaced by a darker look than she had ever seen in her twenty years. The silence between them begged for words, preferably ones that sounded like 'I'm so sorry', 'I didn't mean to hit you,' or 'I understand ma'am,' 'I get hit for no reason all the time' but neither person spoke. Walter's cheek stung. It wasn't the worst he'd felt by far, even a playful cuff from the vampire sometimes bruised but this pain went deeper. This pain cried out for payment.

Light glinted off of something in his hand, though she'd been assured by Hellsing that his assassin wouldn't carry a gun or knife on the royal grounds. The princess realized how vulnerable she was. Not a soul was awake and she faced not a boy, but a man. His eyes chilled her, they were as pitiless as death itself. Walter wasn't as big as the vampire, maybe half a foot taller than she and slightly built, but she hadn't felt physically threatened by the monster. "I—Ow!" she twisted in his grip, trying to pull free the hand she'd struck him with.

"If you want to die so soon Princess, let's not tarry here," he pulled her, almost dragging the princess along the corridor toward the sound of Alucard's Thompson gun.