Chapter One
- The Rapture of Sleeping Beauty
Freedom was an illusion. Rules existed everywhere, tidying people to nature, to social customs, to a religion.
To the memory of a dying relative.
There were times when one could be freer if trapped in a small cell than wandering outside - for in life, bars and four walls only bind the body. An explosion, a jolt in the gates and there would be a route of escape. Traditions, social boundaries and oaths lingered through the entirety of one's existence.
They captured the soul.
That was a cage that Integral Hellsing was well acquainted to, one she did not bother to exit. Once you spent so long inside it, the desire for freedom vanished into a comfortable denial of one's free will.
Nothing could be done, not unless someone destroyed it. Not until reality changed…
Integral had just finished her wine when the music started to play. Her mouth savoured the last remains of an excellent vintage, the flavour no different from those that Her Majesty had sent her during the trial over a year ago; the Queen's secret message to remain strong, to believe. One that Alucard had dared to spoil with his blood; a rather innovative procedure to taint her ruler's support.
Returning the goblet back to the table, Integral lounged on her chair. Her lids dropped for instants, allowing the melody to engross her. Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty Waltz. The tunes lulled her to slumber. Resting was indeed a more attractive choice than the boring scenario of dancing couples, although she regained her composure before that were to happen.
People were watching her, giggling and gossiping in secret. How many conspiracies had they invented after the Incognito assault? She would rather she never found out. For their own good.
Integral reached to re-fill her glass. She tolerated the seasons of parties only to diminish the suspicions of her fellow noblemen, suspicions raised by her formerly insolate nature.
Damn, she never had thought she would come to see the day when a lack of attacks would drive her insane.
If only I could smoke in front of these buffoons, Integral thought, scanning the mocking guests that shot her a brief glance. But she could not. The support the maintenance of the Hellsing institution received was sparse after the Tower incident; they took special delight in taunting her for her failure and inability to stop Alucard from destroying half of London while fighting Incognito. The fact that vampires had remained hidden and quiet afterwards only made her look quite useless as well.
Had the vampires fled? Or was it a clever strategy to get rid of the potential predator?
There's a third option to take into consideration, she reminded herself, toying with her cross pin.
Iscariot.
Her grip on the pin tightened, her fingers white beneath the gloves. There were indications that could point out their interference; their web of contacts had certainly increased while she had been facing her trial… It was probable that the relatives of victims during 'her previous terrorist attack', either from the police or MI-5 chose to inform the Vatican instead of her.
If that were the case, they would pay dearly for their treachery! Treason earned death, no matter what the laws claimed. The abolition was only in public eyes, and the masses needed to be protected from the truth, the hysteria would be unbearable.
Thoughts about traitors made her remember her dear Judas. He had lost his name in front of her very eyes, divested of his title and rank. He was now a Judas rooting in the nine circle of Hell. The hilarity of all things was that he had claimed that someone whose name he was unable to reveal had fooled him.
Tricked him.
Used him.
Liar.
Her Majesty conceded her the honour of executing him herself and she had taken the offer with much gusto. Her lips pursed up in a smirk at the memory of his screams as she had given him to Alucard as a snack, at his rise as a ghoul afterwards, eyes sunken and grey of skin, horrifying to her fellow knights. He was ready to be damned to hell by a single shot of her Walther P.P.K.
Bang.
Integral Hellsing was not one to take kindly to backstabbers. Had they not learnt their lesson with Uncle Richard?
Her entertaining flashback was interrupted by a hand introduced over her shoulder. She repressed a shiver. Had the temperature of the room dropped?
"It seems my lady is finally smiling…" someone whispered near her ear. It was like a purr, rough and smooth at the same time. "What has happened to your resolution, Miss Hellsing? Didn't you claim that 'A Hellsing will never relish herself in such shallow activities'?"
Integral looked up, throwing daggers at the intruder. She recognized the daring figure. "Oh, it's you again. I said it once and I will say it again, my personal tastes are none of your business and… that's Sir Hellsing to you." She did not move a muscle, expecting -in vain- that he would take the hint and put some distance between his face and her own.
He only leaned further. She wondered if the rest of their company would notice his disappearance if he would missing in future parties.
"How cold you are. After all the time we've seen each others, you still want it that we address one another by our titles?" he asked, though his wounded tone did not convince her. And she was less than thrilled to have his gloved thumb tracing her cheek.
Integral swept his hand away. "All the years you have stalked me without my consent, you mean. And we're not even acquainted," she sneered. "You lacked the manners to introduce yourself."
"Perhaps I did and your memory is sketchy, Sir Hellsing."
Like hell he had. Her memory was fine. She scolded, taking a close look to her admirer. He had a nobleman's features – black hair of shoulder length, grey eyes, a pointy face and full lips. He was indeed handsome; many of the women in attendance to the party always threw envious glances towards her for her fortune.
As good looking as he was, the man was cruel and rude beneath his charming manner. Integral had heard the cases of the public humiliation to which he had exposed to any lady that roamed near him. No one would come unscathed and he took great delight in his insults.
He was one of the main reasons why she avoid gatherings. Always there, hovering over her shoulder, sneaking forbidden touches.
"Your memory is the one that is failing," Integral retorted stubbornly.
"Consequences of age that I'm ashamed of," he replied, bowing and extending his arm. "The waltz is starting again. I suppose you won't grant a piece to this fine gentleman?"
"You supposed correctly."
"May I ask why?"
He inquired with such an innocent aura that very nearly made her laugh. But she refrained from doing so; her features were made of stone, lips in a neutral straight line.
"You know very well, mister. I've listened to the rumours about how low the women that related to you have fallen."
"But you don't have to fear now, do you, Integra? You have arrived at the bottom of disgrace. You have failed," he spat, voice soaked in venom. "Your father must be rolling in his grave."
The words were familiar; she had heard something of semblance over and over again… But when he uttered them, she felt a knife plunging her heart. Her eyes flickered in hurt.
"You are attending to these parties because you've lost yourself. Look at you, pretending it doesn't matter," he laughed cruelly. A few heads turned to watch them, but Integral barely paid heed to them; she was staring at her offender with hatred. "You bowed to them now. How weak you have become."
Weak…
Pathetic…
A failure…
What would father think of me?
Her left hand clenched in a fist as it lay on her lap. "Shut up," she ordered frostily. "A good-for-nothing sheltered git like you can't understand the weight of duty and honour." Her pain became hatred; her reluctance fed her determination as always it had - and always it would. "You along with the whole bloody rest of dally here, talking their insipid conversations about golf and jewellery, you all have no moral authority to judge me!"
His features darkened and for a second she thought he was ready to strike her. Instead, to her surprise, he smiled. "Not even on account of this will you break down? I've underestimated you," he indicated, taking her goblet of wine and sipping from it before could snap it back. "Greedy. Not even sharing a few cups with me?"
"Go away," she empathised, drinking the content before he stole it once more. "Mad man."
He bowed executing an elaborate flourish. "Mad man? I'm a traveller, a lawyer, a politician, a charmer," he scoffed. "And I do have a name…"
"I was starting to doubt it." Integral lifted a brow, abandoning the empty goblet on the table. Her head started spinning. Perhaps she had had enough alcohol for a night.
The father clock bells tolled. Midnight. It was hardly late. Why were her eyelids dropping? Her lashes felt heavy, she was unable to lift their weight. Her body fell forward - cold arms ensnared her - lips brushed her ears.
"Twelve o'clock. The spell is lifted. Cinderella's illusion is gone," he whispered, removing the cross pin from her ascot. Her nose wrinkled, smelling smoke. Flesh burnt then nothing. "There's no pretence of humanity anymore."
Cold, a dead man was holding her.
Vampire! She attempted to contact Alucard through the seal, but no words would come out of her mouth; she remained limp as he carried her to one chambers and deposited her over the mattress. Integral was fully aware of what was happening. Whatever substance he had placed in her drink to drug her kept her a prisoner over her shell. Impotent, unable to escape. She struggled.
Wiggle the fingers.
Smile.
Frown.
Anything!
Her body was unresponsive.
Integral agitated when the vampire divested her. Unbuttoning her shirt and jacket, slowly massaging the breasts and toying with her nipples through the brassiere. Tweaking and fingering. It was dreadful, humiliating to be motionless as he ravaged her without doing anything to avoid it. She would have tensed her jaw when his fingers stroke the apex of her legs if she had any domain over her functions.
"I could take you right now, my Sleeping Beauty," he purred, "Running you further but no one would believe it was a willing act on your part, not with your reputation as an iron virgin… perhaps the original version won't suit you… You would rise stronger with it, feeding your delusions of holiness and martyrdom… No, I think not."
Integral's relief at such news were short lived. Soon she felt a well knowing sting on her jugular. Long, cold tongue was prodding the spot dexterously, running over the scar of the last one.
"Therefore, I'll go for the Children's Tale. Sleeping Beauty will be awoken by the kiss of her Prince," he chuckled. "My own brand of kiss that leaves a lasting effect…" he added, nipping the neck and then moving towards her mouth, pressing his lips on hers, demanding her taste. In one way or another. Before he pulled out, Integral's mind and body screamed in wrath as his eye teeth pricked her full skin.
"This is my first time too…" the vampire confessed and laughed as shadows fogged her mind, pulling her to an unreachable Abyss deprived of light.
No sounds.
No colour.
No feelings.
It was cold and dead as she would be.
She barely noticed his wandering hands. Instead, Integral focused on her racing heart, pounding madly on her chest.
The blood sucked out of the system at the swoon would have nearly driven her over the edge of pleasure, if not for her indignation.
Rushing as life escaped her body.
And then silence. Her beat fluttered and faded.
Pain followed the pleasure, and after that a worrisome numb spread through her. She was not there, everything felt so light, like she could fly away, high up the sky. Her body stirred, finally responding to her commands.
Her 'Prince' was gone, leaving her prostrated and with an aching body behind. Sleeping Beauty yawned, dazzled and dizzy for her encounter with the hostile intruder. She recalled fragmented, never the whole of it. She quickly checked her neck for bite marks. None. That was not the only thing that was missing, however…
Her clothes were not there either.
Sleeping Beauty stood with difficulty, her body aching in her drained state. Her hand supported a cold crystal surface. It was not a window or a glass door. A mirror. She looked up and stared at it and the room behind her, her worst fear now confirmed.
The fiend had stolen her reflection.
I thank Lyanna Kane for her edit, she's so sweet. And to everyone who reviewed, I appreciated the feedback. This famous XIX century vampire isn't my character and belongs to his creator (which I won't reveal for plot sake yet).