A slender beam of sunlight fell across Anderson's face, waking him from his light doze. Wrinkling his nose in annoyance, he opened his eyes and automatically reached across the table for his glasses. Disoriented, he looked around the room and finally remembered that he was in some Liverpool hotel. The intrusive sunlight came from the window where the room-darkening curtains had been thrown open, leaving only a sheer, translucent cover from the glass to the room. He scratched his jaw, his hand running over the rough hairs and he felt the old gnawing wish that he could just shave it all off. Sadly, his body treated a razor as if it was a sword and the pseudo-beard always grew back within the hour. Unchanging….
Looking around the room again, he tried to figure out what was wrong. It was like the old newspaper games he looked at as a boy, where you saw two pictures and had to point out the differences. The first, major difference was the absence of a sharp-tongued blonde woman. He looked towards the bathroom to see the door standing open and the room neat, but empty. He felt his heart drop to his stomach in panic- I let her escape- before he remembered that the order to take Integra hostage was a sad attempt to keep the Vatican from surrendering to one shrew's iron will. If Integra wasn't keen on running away before, she certainly wasn't going to make off when he was asleep. Finally, he caught sight of the clean carpet. The dirty clothing that had been haphazardly strewn around in their hurry to unpack was missing. The only logical explanation was that Integra had taken them down to be cleaned. He half-wondered if she had stuffed her ears before leaving. The Sirens, so far, hadn't attacked them in broad daylight, instead waiting until dawn or dusk for their maneuvers; it was always better to be safe than sorry though.
He was turning this over in his mind when the words "broad daylight" hit him like a punch in the jaw. Throwing himself over the bed, he grabbed the remote on the other end table and hit the display button on the muted TV. His jaw hit his lap when he saw the time on the digital readout- 12:45 pm. He sat back, flabbergasted. He never slept in. Alexander Anderson never, ever slept in. He was up before the sun, before anyone else in the orphanage. Even as a child, he wasn't allowed to laze around in bed; there were always fences to mend and cows to milk and goats to feed and besides, there weren't enough hours in the day as it was.
But it was clear that the sun had woken him up today, meaning that he was dreadfully behind. He looked around for his coat, but was unable to find it anywhere. For once, he was at a loss as to what to do. He couldn't walk around outside without a shirt or some sort of covering, and he felt that a towel wouldn't do the job right. He let his gaze travel around the room idly, resting on the blinking light on his phone. He reached for it, seeing that it was a voicemail. That in itself wasn't that big of a deal; most of the Iscariots had to call him for one reason or another and knew to leave a voicemail if he didn't answer- he had more things to do than be attached to his phone 24/7. But as he opened the caller ID and spotted the familiar number jumping out at him, he paled. Maxwell's private line: He was in trouble, and whatever it was, it was serious.
He hadn't spoken to Maxwell at all since he'd appealed for a marriage. Father Renaldo as well as several of the Iscariots had told him that the silver-haired archbishop had been shocked speechless before flying into one of the biggest rages anyone had ever seen. Sure, they all knew about the man's legendary one-person-screaming-match/speeches that he was apt to fly into, but this one took all the cake and the plate with it. No one dared make a false move, especially as word got round to the other Divine Secret Organizations. It was bad enough to be shamed by your main man, but even the lowest of Section XIII blushed as they heard that the Lukes were laughing at them. It was absolutely mortifying, being the new laughingstock of the Vatican.
Anderson knew that it wouldn't be his most popular move, but once people realized that this merger was a good thing, he was sure they'd come around. With Hellsing's occult magic and his divine powers, surely the next Regenerator would be a work of art. He could already imagine a faceless child following in his footsteps, making him more proud than he ever made his own father as he sliced down monstrous heathens in the name of God. Besides, the child would have a mother with a knack for tactical warfare so he'd already have a more than unfair advantage over uninformed creatures of the darkness.
Speaking of the devil, he thought as the door's electronic lock whirred and it opened to reveal a cassock clad Integra with both arms full of folded clothing. He watched as she knocked the door back with her hip and jogged to the bed before the clothes could fall out of her hands. She gave a satisfied nod before wiping imaginary dust off her hands and looking over at him as he sat in place on the other bed. They stared at each other for a long moment, not saying anything as each looked the other over slowly. Integra cleared her throat, her entire face slowly turning pink as she refused to look away.
"Why are you wearing my clothes?" he asked finally, weighing his words carefully. She clutched the heavy cloak around her tightly and pointed to a neatly folded shirt.
"Well, I had to wash that sleeping shirt and I couldn't well stand down there like that, could I?" she retorted and began to separate the clothing stacks between his outfits and hers. "Hang on a second and I'll get dressed so you can have it back," she said as she held up her suit jacket and pants before going back for a suitable shirt.
The implication of her words set in and Anderson almost choked. He couldn't help but think of her under that coat… naked. That body that was on top of him last night; the sacred robe folding over her hips and rubbing against her as she put the folded clothes away in the dresser drawers. The way it would look if she let it slide down around her pale shoulders, giving him that infuriating, maddening smile as it reached her hips… he swallowed although his mouth had turned drier than the Pope's sense of humor but he could no longer bring himself to close his eyes, instead not even bothering to get himself under control as he watched her move about the room. After long last she made her way to the bathroom with her outfit in hand and the spell was broken the minute the door shut her in. He let out a held breath and rubbed his eyes. It was getting to be too much- he was getting more involved in her than he'd like to think about.
He tried to chalk it up to the time. It had been so long since he'd last let himself think such unholy thoughts. He tried to think the girls he'd had before in his time; surely he remembered one face, one name. No, they all melded together through the nights, blurred by drunken memory and sheer multitude. If he had any thought, he ought to have thanked the Lord above that none of them had been diseased. Well, they may have well been; the Regeneration process alleviated any mortal disease he had in his human years; no STDs could exist in his body any longer. It was only one of the many blessings that this job had given him. He'd never know if his material ways would have brought about repercussions down the road.
Still, he was a man, divinely oriented or not. And she was a woman- God help him, she was a woman. Her hands on him last night had been curious and determined; even in her sexual innocence she was headstrong and overconfident in her own ability. He wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or not. Not that it was bad physically; no, it had awakened things he'd thought he'd finally buried forever underneath doctrines about waiting until marriage and staying pure in thought and deed. It was more about her pigheadedness. How was he ever supposed to get her to be a submissive wife if all she had to do was seduce him into saying yes for every little thing?
"What? Aren't you going to be getting up, or were you waiting for the shower?" Her voice startled him out of his thoughts, only to see that she had emerged clean and fully dressed in her suit. He stared at the olive material for a moment before motioning her over with one hand. She hesitated, her blue eyes jumping from his hand to his face. She reached some decision and made her way to him, sitting lightly on the edge of the unmade bed. He leaned over and looked her in the eyes. They were confused and self-conscious.
"Your eyes," he muttered, and she blinked. "Your feelings are showing, Ice Queen. Why do you let me see how vulnerable you are? I could take advantage of you." He watched the astonishment and slight offense flicker through her gaze. It was fleeting however and before long a newfound confidence filled the blue depths.
"You won't," she declared. "You wouldn't do that. I know." She nodded once and placed a hand on his shoulder, over the spot where her servant had hit him. She felt the healed skin and smiled to herself. He caught the slight grin and narrowed his eyes. She had such faith in him, a Catholic- her enemy before this entire week had taken place.
Still, even in the prison she'd not been afraid for him to see the boredom or hurt or anger in her expression. She wasn't really so emotionless after all. Like him, she'd just found a way to cover up until she was around someone she trusted. The question was: when did she start trusting him? She patted his bicep comfortingly and he realized that his face must have been showing his own confusion and pensiveness. He looked up, marveling at how the way the suit broadened her shoulders and hid the curves that he knew were there. He suddenly had the desire to see her in lady's clothing- an evening dress perhaps. Something entirely indecent and practically begging to be peeled off.
"What?" He looked up, his face still close to hers and he saw his heated gaze reflected back at him in her glasses. He shook his head, leaning even closer. She didn't back away, even when his nose brushed hers. Her eyes closed and he moved in, deciding to kiss her. He did promise that he'd make a conscious effort to try, after all.
The bed vibrated and they both looked down to see the phone lighting up. Anderson sighed; he still wasn't ready to face his boss. He shouldn't have been so wary; he raised the boy, for Christ's sake. He just knew that he'd get a headache listening to the man's shouts. Still, he moved away reluctantly and picked up the phone. Integra coughed and backed up off the bed, her expression both annoyed and slightly deterred. He shrugged at her before hitting the flashing green button.
"Anderson." The voice on the other end gave a harsh exhale, saying nothing for a moment. "Hello?"
"Why did you not call me back?" the archbishop's hiss was almost spine-tingling. He's even worse off than I thought.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment," he said tentatively, eyeing the woman that now had her face plastered to the window as she watched the bustling street below. "I was going to wait until you could have my full attention. Listen,"
"No, you listen." Maxwell scowled at something in the background, the noise creating static among the line. "I'm halfway to England right now and I've got a lot to say to you. I'm going to be at that hotel at 6:00 sharp, and you will be down to meet me with your little fiancée in tow, understood?" Anderson raised an eyebrow at the man's tone, taking all his self-control into check as he fought to not yell at the over-pompous official.
"I understand, Bishop. For the record, I have a lot to say to you, too." His growling tone spoke of a fight for the ages. "See you then." He slammed the end-call button with his thumb, almost bending the casing in two. He threw it onto the table and stood, gathering his own outfit from the still-open drawer. "Maxwell's going to be here at 6:00. I guess he'll be bringing that money for us, at least."
"You don't sound too happy about that," Integra said. She didn't turn from the window, but her hands moved to clasp behind her back. He walked over to her, looking over her shoulder at the people milling about the sidewalks.
"I'm not looking forward to it, that's for sure."
Seras tapped her toes on the edge of the balcony, leaning over as far as she could with her arms outstretched. She was balancing on her stomach at that point, but she wasn't going to let the heavy pillar go no matter what. It was her fault it had fallen, anyway. Well, more so her masters, but he had only punched it because he was angry with her. Better stone than her face, or so Walter said. The butler was currently giving Alucard his two sense about the whole matter; she could see the furious look on the vampire's face, but he made no move to leave the scene. Almost as if he heard her thoughts, she felt his gaze rest on her and she sent him a defiant look. She hadn't even done anything wrong this time.
"Miss Victoria!" Seras jumped back to reality and saw Walter frowning up at her. "Did you hear me?"
"No, sorry. What did you need?" she asked politely as she let the pillar go. It fell the last few remaining inches to the ground where it hit with a rumble but didn't shatter. Walter shook his head good-naturedly and pointed to the door.
"I said that if you still were going out, you had better do it before sunrise."
"Oh, really!" she looked at the sky through foyer window, which was beginning to lighten considerably. "Yes, you're right." She flipped herself on over the balcony railing, landing without a sound beside the stone pillar and bounding forwards to hug the old man. "Thanks," she whispered in his ear. He nodded and patted her back affectionately before pushing her in the direction of the door. She passed by the still-fuming Alucard and considered the man for a moment before sticking out her tongue and continuing out the door.
It wasn't fair that he was trying to keep her inside. She had a life, too. Besides, she was out of her favorite shampoo. It would take no more than five minutes at most to run to the store and get more, but now that he pitched such a big fit about it, she was going to take at least a half-hour. That would give the poor soldiers time to clean up the basement anyway. Stupid Master. He's going to pay me back for breaking my table!
Oh, am I? The cold tone bit into her mind and she hurried her pace, half-wondering if he would bother to chase her down. Surely he couldn't be that angry that she was leaving. She was coming right back!
What's your problem? She whined as she made her way through the front gates. I know that someone could pick it up for me, but I want to get out and stretch my legs! I hate being locked away in that stuffy old house all the time. It's nice to see the sights. She felt his wrath in her mind and shook her head, as if it that would dispel the overwhelming pressure mounting in her ears. Leave me alone, please! She broke into a jog, taking the long path around the mansion to get to the main road.
Oh, don't worry. I'm not coming after you, he admitted with a dark chuckle. No, I'll be waiting right here for you to come back. Seras wracked her mind and decided that he was probably angrier with her for being a disobedient little bitch and ratting him out to Walter for trying to make her stay behind. Jeez, she wasn't his kid sister- she was a grown woman and if she wanted to go out, she'd go out!
I'm not scared of you. She wasn't lying; she could take anything he dished out. She had before and she'd do it again. Break a few bones? Child's play. Snap her spinal cord with one kick? Yawn. She sniffed and waved her hand. She shouldn't have to be fearing her master's rage every time she made a decision. That's what parents were for, and he wasn't her parent.
She felt his fury rise at the jab and slowed back to a walk, throwing her hair back. It was high time that he realized she wasn't a little dog to order around. She was a vampire now. Humans were for ordering. Something about Ruthven made her start thinking about that. He died for her like a vampire, fighting to the last minute. Something was after her, and it wasn't pretty or holy or even frightening. It was terrifying and dangerous; something that would target a vampire. It was time for Seras Victoria to stop cowering around like a human. She'd never make her master proud that way.
She didn't bother to listen to see if he'd reply to that. She had reached the main road and looked both ways carefully like Walter had instructed her. She had to make sure no humans were around before she started running. The coast was clear and she gathered her energy into one burst before taking off. The sound behind her was like a sonic bang before she slowed enough to adapt a loping gait down the asphalt. It was much faster than humans could ever see, and she jumped over and around speeding cars as though they were ladybugs. She felt like laughing as she ran; the moon was almost new, it's light only a sliver but she could still see clearly as she sprinted along. It was always during these times that she felt free, unrestricted. She could forget about her duties and worries, instead focusing on the wind in her hair and the pull and push of muscles that would never burn with exhaustion again.
Exhilarating, isn't it? The sneer caught up in her mind but she disregarded it, knowing that it was just petty jealousy. Unlike her he had to stay locked up in the manor like a naughty child, unable to leave except under strict orders. Even then, he wasn't given the liberty of running around freely. She had been debating whether to ask Sir Integra if he could accompany her sometimes, under the clause that she kept an eye on him and not let any casualties arise. She didn't' know if he'd want to go run errands with her, even if it was approved. He'd probably enjoy it more if he knew he was doing it without permission, she thought wryly. The answering laugh in her mind confirmed her theory.
She reached London's borders and slowed down to a human's pace, walking up to the store at its edge as she always did. She waved hello to the pimple-faced boy behind the counter before running back to the back to grab her shampoo. She hesitated before getting some matching conditioner and smiled as she carried both bottles to the checkout. She hadn't used conditioner in years, but it would be nice to have soft hair for once. She checked out and was walking out with her bag when she noticed a strangely dressed young man in the parking lot.
He had shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair that shimmered under the streetlight as he looked down the road towards the bright lights of downtown. His face was youthful and very handsome, as well as clean-shaven. He was wearing what looked like a Halloween costume; bright, exotic, and poufy with a scabbard hanging loosely from the cinched waistband. He looked like a rainbow Musketeer. In his hand he held a folded map and was looking at it in confusion. At the sight of her, he waved her over desperately. Seras paused before deciding that it was alright. It was a well-lit area and the boy inside was only steps away if she needed help. Besides, it was only a human. What harm could he do? He looked lost.
"Yes?" she said in a friendly manner as she made her way over. The boy's eyes were hidden by his long bangs, which had fallen into his face as he stared down at the map. He smiled in return and pointed at the map before chattering something quickly to himself in French.
"Hello there. I seem to be lost; is this the road that takes you to Oxford Street downtown? I thought I was heading the right way, but it looks like I left the city by mistake," he explained in a lilting accent. "It's my first time in England, you see," he added with a chuckle. Seras laughed indulgently and looked over at the map.
"Well, here's your problem- this map is way too old. You're going to have to get a newer one." She turned to point to the store. "You can get one in there, and it'll have routes marked on the map in colors to show you the way to go." She turned back to see him brushing his hair out of his eyes. He opened them to reveal a dark burgundy gaze. She froze in confusion as he grinned widely, his fangs showing.
"Thank you, Cher. That clears up so much. However, I think it would be best if you accompanied me. You see, I wouldn't want to let the girls down. They were looking forward to this trip."
"Girls?" Seras still didn't understand until her mind caught the scent in the air. It was the same scent as the night before- putrid and sickly sweet with something, as if whoever it was had been rolling in sugar and silage before arriving. She turned to the source of the scent before her mind blanked in pure horror. The man looked around her and smiled.
"Ah, come here girls. Meet your newest sister." They weren't human. They weren't mortal. Seras wasn't even sure if they could be classified as demonic. Ghouls would have won beauty pageants compared to these… these abominations of nature.
It was hard to tell that these were once human girls. They had no noses, the holes where they would have been already closed over with skin. The skin itself was almost like a mask- it was cracked in places and chipping off in others, revealing thick black brain matter on their heads and dry-rotted organs and muscles on their bodies. What hair they had left was dead and dirty, stringy and hanging lank around their face. There were no eyes to speak of, only black tissue filled voids that were chapped and oozing around the edges. Their mouths were twisted in cruel parodies of smiles, the teeth yellowed and broken, some even rotted completely. They all wore the same thin cloth covering, almost like a summer shift without any form to it whatsoever. It hid little from view, although their sunken chests and thin appendages weren't appealing. They were all making noise, not moaning per say; but thick, barely audible chirping noises that sounded like a gurgling bird. It filled her ears and she backed up thoughtlessly into the Frenchman's arms.
"See? They like you already. Those are their happy noises. You'll learn them all soon enough; now, let's get back to Hungary with you and present you to Madame." Seras balked, kicking at the Girls and flailing her arms as he grabbed her in a chokehold. She caught sight of his exposed wrist and bit hard, hearing his snarl of pain in satisfaction as the bones crunched beneath her teeth. She sprang away from him, looking once at his army of creatures as they made anxious trills, their mouths slack as they waited for an order. She spit out his blood- it tasted too sweet for her, and it was mixed with something dry and evil-tasting that was completely undesirable to her palate. "Fucking bitch," he swore as he clutched his crushed wrist, looking at it as he inhaled sharply. She smirked and flipped her hair, feeling her eyes widen as she prepared to fight.
"That's what you get for trying to take advantage of a vampire that's stronger than you are. I'm a Draculina; did you really think that you'd have a chance against me, little boy?" she sneered, feeling her master's blood sing in her veins and pride course through her. He was nothing compared to her. He let out a breathy chuckle and nodded in acknowledgment at the words, giving her a slight grin before shrugging. His eyes narrowed and he snapped with his good hand.
"Obtenir son, râle!" he crowed and the Girls sprang on her immediately, their teeth snapping as they covered her in their stench. She gasped as they managed to pin her down- they were stronger than they looked, for being slaves. She struggled and twisted in their grasp, looking up at the Frenchman walked over and smiled down at her. He tilted his head, studying her body with interest. "Madame said to get you there alive, but that doesn't have to mean intact." He stepped lightly on her ankle, testing the weight before snapping it with one solid stomp. She arched, screaming once before groaning as the pain worked its way through her system. The Frenchman leered at her, closing his eyes. "Ah, what a scream. I can tell already that Madame will enjoy you especially." He made a motion and the Girls picked her up, carrying her down the darkened street. "Now, we really should be going. It looks as though dawn's already on the way."
Seras renewed her efforts to escape with more panic. She didn't half-understand why she was so terrified. It wasn't the thought of being kidnapped and carried to a foreign place- no, that was horrifying as it was, but there was something thrumming in her blood that told her this whole thing was just bad. They were carrying her across the ocean, far away from her master and England. She felt her heart clench in dread: what if she couldn't get back? What if the link between her and Alucard couldn't last that far? It would stretch and snap and she'd be all alone again, just like she was before. She couldn't bear such a thought! She'd die from it, she was sure of it! She screamed like a banshee, writhing around and cracking her own bones in an effort to get away, all the time calling for her master. He had to come save her, or they both were doomed!
To her relief, the shadows around them elongated and snared the Girls, forcing them upwards with a thickening crunch before dragging their bodies into the ground and under it. Seras fell to the ground, cushioned by swirling shadows. She lay back into them, comforted beyond words. He wasn't going to let them steal her. She was just fine. She heard the Frenchman curse and gasp and opened her eyes to see his face drained of all color as he stared behind her.
"Ma-Madame," he sputtered in fear, looking as though he were going to piss himself. "The Dark Prince," he murmured before his eyes hardened and he braced himself. Suddenly, his simply… disappeared. Seras caught the glimpse of a jewel-encrusted, slender hand as it grabbed his scabbard and seemed to pull him into himself, vanishing with a pop and leaving only silence. But that was the least of her worries at the moment.
She began to sob, the reality of the situation finally catching up with her. Stupid girl, they almost ruined her existence forever, although for the life of her she couldn't imagine why she knew it was so. It was one of those more instinctual things that she had learned to just take for granted, like breathing or eating. She felt a presence over her and looked up through her tears to see her master taking off his glasses, his eyes dark with anger. She tried to calm down enough to sound coherent.
"I promise, I won't go out by myself again," she blubbered, trying to sit up and look at her broken ankle. She knew he would heal her, but it was going to hurt like hell doing it. She whimpered as she felt his power course within her through the shadows around her body and heal the cracks in her bones, jerking her ankle back into proper position before healing that as well. "I promise," she repeated quietly, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
He said nothing but wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close with their torsos touching. She murmured in security, burying her face into his vest as she let his reassurance wash over her. "They weren't human," she muttered into his chest.
"No, not anymore," he agreed.
"They tried to take me away from you." She began to shiver; was she really that close? It was maddening, the terror she'd felt erupting into torture in her mind. She'd never have survived on her own, not yet. She felt his arms tighten around her.
"I know." His arms left her and he took off his coat, wrapping her up in it before picking her up like a child, the same way he'd done the night he changed her. "Don't worry yourself; it won't happen again." She sniffed and nodded, resting her head on his shoulder as he began to walk back in the direction of Hellsing. She saw the shadows coming too, her forgotten grocery bag bobbing in them like a bottle in water.
"I'm sorry," she said, the tears slowly abiding. She looked up at him as he walked; he was watching the road ahead, but his mind was still entangled with hers. For once, she didn't mind his intrusion on her psyche. It was a sort of solace to her; they were still attached.
"I forgive you," he finally replied.
"Will you sleep with me today?" she asked. She didn't want him to leave her for a while. Her heart was still constricted with fear and she worried. What if he managed to find a way into the manor, into her room and have his Girls carry away her coffin in the daylight? It'd never happen, of course. Walter and the men were there, but she still wanted something more.
"Yes," he breathed out slowly. "Now rest, little Seras." She smiled in contentment and lay her head back on his shoulder. It was going to be alright, she was going to be fine. Her master would never let anyone bother her.
Thank you, her mind whispered to his. It said something else too, something that she didn't catch as she dropped off into an exhausted stupor, but he heard it loud and clear. Although he'd known it- known it for some time, in fact- it still shocked him to the point of stopping dead in the road and almost being hit by a Volkswagen. I love you.
"Ahab." The man pointed his bony finger, almost knocking Anderson's glasses askew. "You are Ahab. Going off with that Jezebel, making your whore's children,"
"Don't. Call. Her that," Anderson managed to growl, his knuckles white on his knees and he clenched his legs. It was either that, or wrap them around the archbishop's scrawny neck. "I raised you better, boy. Don't mess with me," he added. Maxwell started to develop a tic in his eye and he visibly shook.
"You dare. You dare call me a child? I am no longer your ward, Paladin! I am your boss, your superior, and you will listen to me!" he shrieked. Anderson stood, happy for once of his enormous stature as it let him tower over the slender man. He pointed one broad finger at the holy man's chest, using every intimidating bone he had.
"You listen to me, boy. If you'd stop to think, you'd see how prudent of a match this was. We get a merger with the Protestant Church's best defense against monstrous creatures, and we get the ultimate fighter! Can you imagine how amazing it would be? We would finally be a complete defense!" Maxwell gaped like a fish for a moment before shaking his head.
"I don't like it; it's against everything you ever taught me," he said in a calmer tone. "But I can't deny the request on that basis alone. Technically, there's no reason you can't marry her. But think about it, Father." He looked up at the man, and Anderson softened as he saw the little boy he'd raised come out of the grown man's hardened shell. "Is this what you think is best, or is this what you want? We have to think of the greater good here, for both of us. For Iscariot, for His Holiness." Anderson put a hand on the man's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.
"It's both. I do want this, now. The more I think about it, the better off it sounds. And this is what is best, for everyone. Love thy neighbor, Maxwell. Or at least try to tolerate them, huh? It could be worse. She could be a full-blooded heathen." He smiled, but it dropped away when he saw the conflicted look in the man's indigo gaze.
"I can't. I just… God forgive me, but I can't love her. Love them." Maxwell turned away to the wall, placing a fist on it and banging softly. The two men remained silent for a long time, the sounds of a piano echoing from beyond the closed door. Maxwell shook his head and let out a heavy breath. "I can't. I'm sorry." He turned to look at his mentor. "But if you can, I believe you. You are a better man than I, in some ways. That I can admit." Anderson nodded and Maxwell went to open the door, showing the paladin out before him.
They were in a simple cathedral, one that Renaldo had chosen for the marriage license to be signed in and the simple ceremony to be held the day after tomorrow. Maxwell had wanted to meet privately with Anderson, having a thirty minute heated argument with him. Integra was probably wondering what was taking so long, he decided. However, when they entered the main foyer they found Renaldo being the one at the piano, with Integra sitting beside him and singing softly. She wasn't the best singer, but her voice was sweet and softer than he'd ever heard it before. He looked down to see Maxwell staring at the piano before gritting his teeth and assuming a look of polite neutralism. When she finished, they both applauded. Integra jumped and looked over at them, her cheeks flushing slightly before her own mask slid into place and she became the emotionless woman once more.
"I trust everything's in place then?" she asked as she followed Renaldo past them. Maxwell said nothing and Anderson only nodded as she slid past and went with the priest into the room they'd just vacated. Father Renaldo would explain all of her duties as a wife and answer any questions that she had, before doing the same for him. Anderson wondered if she'd fight the elderly man, but only time would tell as he went to sit down at the piano to pass the time.
Author's Note: Well, then. Those Girls are something else. Do you remember Scary Stories to Read in the Dark or something like that? Those creepy-ass pictures of that one girl on the cover? Yeah. I used that as a reference, because frankly it scared me as a kid. That's why I need therapy.