Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters do not belong to me. This fanfic consists of monologues by the characters at their most alone. Not in chronological order. May contain spoilers for the anime. Rated for potential dark and mature themes.
Please note that I have only viewed the anime, so this is mainly my take on things.
Mary: Bloody Mary and Malt Whiskey
Night already? I throw on my coat…
"Captain Spencer, you shouldn't be about in your state…"
"Oh, shut up!" We're so screwed… I step outside the hospital and found a pub. "One Bloody Mary."
Okay, one thing I wish to make clear. I hate vampires. Oops… I mean Methuselahs. Blame it on a little scuffle with the Count of Manchester's bloody kid sister in a local pub. It put me in hospital for two months and I missed my graduation from military school. It was her fault! She's not allowed up here where Terrans live. The Count should keep a closer watch on her. I don't know who formed this goddamned alliance with the Methuselah. They provide the technology and we let them live, providing them with blood from the blood banks.
King Harold IIV had the right idea confining them to the Ghetto eight centuries ago. Yet now there are those who flagrantly ignore this rule. Under Queen Bridget, Methuselahs were given more freedom than ever before. A special section of the Albion University was set up for Methuselah scholars to attend. I know this is not openly known and the students and lecturers are sworn to utmost secrecy. But wasn't there a scandal when I was a fresh cadet, some lab accident that was eventually traced to a vampire student? The university branch then relocated to the Ghetto, where it should have been in the first place.
The Queen let the Walsh siblings, both vampires, attend royal functions. She even went so far as to have the palace windows fitted with UV-filtered glass to allow the vampire nobles ready access to her, even during the day. I can't understand her.
The Spencer family has served the royal house for centuries. Uncle Henry was captain of the palace guard, right until the day he was killed by a parcel bomb meant for the Queen. The Count and his sister, who were in the same room as my uncle, survived the blast without a scratch. Of course, the Count was suitably outraged by the audacious attempt on his Queen. They eventually flushed a group of dissidents out of the Ghetto. You see? Nothing good could come from associating with vampires. They are trouble-makers, forever trying to spread anarchy and unrest…
Naturally, with the likes of the Walshes… Vanessa's a loose cannon. I am not surprised she would be the ringleader of this kidnap. This time, I suppose there is enough to make the charges stick and if Virgil tries to plead for her…
I take another gulp of my drink. The doctors would probably advise against it but I'm past caring… Besides, the painkillers were wearing off…
Thank God we found the Pope unharmed. We have yet to get all those Inquisitors out of Londinium after Rome sent an army after their Pope…
What a day, Pope gets kidnapped from under my nose. Then weird guy attacks Buckingham on my watch… Tch, I am not sure he is human. He could be a vampire with his freakish abilities… but he attacked in daylight. Aren't vampires allergic to daylight? Virgil got burned once when he accidentally walked past an open window on his way to an audience with Queen Bridget…
Virgil, Count of Manchester and the Queen's confidante. It is scandalous the way he calls on her all hours. And the guard gossip had it some of those meetings took place in the royal bedroom. I would expect the Queen to get a bit lonely since her consort died so long ago… but surely a human would be a better choice for a discrete dalliance.
"We know each other from way back, Spencer. Rest assured that what we do is perfectly honourable…" the count replied enigmatically when I confronted him once.
Whatever their relationship was, it ended the day the Queen died without naming an heir. Great, we have Duke Ludwig and Duke Erin to choose from… Both buffoons as far as I'm concerned. Let Westminster work that one out.
"Ludwig and Erin?" Virgil gave a smug little smile when I broached the topic of succession as the Queen's funeral was being prepared for. "Both will never sit on the Albion throne," he declared flatly before rushing off to send a telegram (the nerve of him) to Rome without clearance from the Parliament. Why had he invited the Pope and specifically asked for a certain nun?
Okay, Mary girl, go easy on those Bloody Marys. My head is starting to throb.
The old Queen must have told Virgil something. No wonder he has been going about with that secretive look on his face. Think, Mary, Think! Could she have told him the identity of her heir? Who is the heir? The count has been acting a little strange around the Papal envoy during the tour of the Ghetto's factories… Was the Pope the heir? Had the Queen decided on her deathbed to turn over her country to the Vatican?
No… Even Virgil isn't that keen on having the Inquisition running Albion. He hadn't spoken to the Pope, only to his attendant… That nondescript sister… I accidentally knock over the glass.
"I thought getting my sister out of the pubs was bad enough…" Virgil? The count stands there beside me, pale and drawn. He shouldn't be here… I stumble as I try to stand. He catches me. "Bartender, a coffee for the lady and a glass of water for me." He takes the bar stool next to mine. The nerve…
"Who's the heir, Count? She must have told you, you pompous jackass!" I hiss. The bartender returns with the water and coffee. He quietly mixes his blood capsules into his water before gulping it down.
"Sorry, Spencer, I'm afraid Bridie's, I mean, Her Majesty's trust was misplaced this time…" The disappointment is heavy in his voice. "Bartender, a double malt whiskey please…" The bartender pours out his whiskey without batting an eyelid.
"What do you mean? There is an heir, isn't there?" He nods slowly and quaffs his whiskey.
"Yes. However, she's unable to lead Albion…"
That's it. Albion is screwed. Both human and vampire alike. Maybe the Vatican will take over the show… Maybe the two Dukes will get tired of waiting for Westminster to reach a decision and invade… Maybe… Maybe…
A blast shakes the pub. We're under attack! It has started.
Author's Notes:
This is timed somewhere between the Ghetto attack and the attack on Londinium. Mary Spencer's in a foul mood in this POV, considering Cain demolished the palace on her watch.