Here's the second chapter! Thank you all so much for all the posative reviews. The more reviews I get, the more encouraged I am to write. I'm glad to get the second chapter up so soon. Enjoy.
"Walter, Absolutely not."
Integra stood with her suit-clad arms crossed, staring pointedly at a dress being held up by her ever faithful butler, Walter. He seemed a bit exasperated with this woman who had been like a child to him for so many years. Though she needed no protection, as was obvious by her dangerous demeanor, he was still obliged, as a servant to her father, to watch over her.
"Please, Sir Integra… You know you must go to this ball in all formality. It wouldn't be a sound idea for you to go in one of your usual suits. Try something a bit more flattering."
The butler was exceedingly patient with her as she eyed down the dress he held out for her. It was indeed a graceful outfit, but she couldn't see herself in it. She couldn't imagine actually looking like a lady. The shoulder straps were thin, and the neckline drooped low and elegantly. The waist would be fitting, and then the hem widened at the bottom, so the dress would be loose and flowing around her legs. The garment its self was made of a soft imported silk, and dyed a bright crimson. The color of blood. The color of death.
Integra made a 'harumph'-ing noise at the gown.
"You really expect me to wear that? No one will take me seriously. I am a Knight, with the blood of Hellsing coursing through my veins. I am no coy, reserved woman, who wears little dresses and needs a man for her protection. I will wear one of my suits, as always."
A strong look of weariness was most apparent in Walter's eyes. She had a will of iron that was in no way flexible.
"Sir Integra… would you at least try on the gown? It's been specially made. Once you actually put it on yourself, you may find it less detestable."
Integra frowned. She couldn't see how she would have her opinion in any way changed once she put it on. Putting on the dress would only confirm her suspicions that the thing would look absolutely horrid on her. Integra would never admit to it, but she was self conscious of her body. She was thin, with a long waist, and barely any hips. Her breasts were shapely, but small. She was ugly and boyish. No, she would much rather hide behind one of her militia inspired ensembles. A large coat and long pants, garments that exposed not a single inch of skin, save her face. Even her hands were concealed with white gloves that were so often stained with cigar ashes.
"Fine."
She said coolly, taking the dress from Walter, and slinging it over her arm. She didn't hold the expensive thing nearly as tenderly as he had, probably because she had absolutely no respect for the item. Dresses were for ladies, not for a rigid, unyielding woman who bore the heavy burden of noble blood.
"That will be all, Walter. If I intend to wear this… gown… I will inform you promptly. But otherwise, please prepare my suit for me… the black one. Have it cleaned and pressed."
Walter smiled. At least she was giving the damn dress a chance, how ever microscopic it may be.
"As you wish, Sir Integra."
Walter whisked out of the room, shutting the large, oaken door behind him with a gentle thud. Integra still had that implacable frown on her face. She would not enjoy this. Locking her bedroom door so that she would not be disturbed, she began unbuttoning her suit. Damn stupid way to spend time… trying on gowns when she should be working. And the ball was tomorrow. Shit.
She threw her coat onto the bed, and then worked at her cravat, pulling out the silver cross pin, and unbinding it from about her neck. She unbuttoned her white dress shirt, pulled down her pants, and kicked off her shoes.
She stared at her almost bare figure in the mirror. She had a raw boned, svelte and almost curve-less form. She was in no way womanly enough to wear a dress. Damn it. Damn it all. She didn't want to make any public appearance. Throwing her clothes onto the bed, she took the dress from its hanger, and slid it over her skinny frame. Reaching behind her, she tried to zip up the back, but every time she groped for the tiny zipper, it fell shy of her hands. Another reason why she didn't wear dresses. They were too hard to get on.
She felt a cold hand reach for her lower back and pull the zipper all the way to the top, until it was between her sharp shoulder blades. She was surprised for a moment, but concealed any emotion she had. Her face was blank.
"What do you mean by this, Alucard?"
That infuriatingly unsettling smile still lingered about his thin lips. Lips that all too well knew the taste of blood.
"Integra…"
Her name on those cursed lips made a shiver trickle up and down her spine.
"Watch your place, Servant. You do not address your master so informally."
"Of course… Sir."
Still standing behind her, his lips were very close to her ear. Grinning malevolently, Alucard raked one of his bony, white hands through her long, wheat hued hair, lifting it and letting it sift through his fingers. Integra looked at herself in the full length mirror. She stood there in front of it, her posture tall straight and regal, dress clad and her hair moving of it's own accord. According to her reflection, no one stood behind her, gently tugging at her radiant blonde locks. Of course. Vampires did not have reflections, one of the few pieces of lore about them that was actually true.
"Did I ask you to touch me, Slave? Remove your hand at once. Just because I am in a dress does not make me any different a woman than I am in a suit."
Her voice was tough and sharp, and Alucard let his hand drop. He knew full well that she would carry the same iron clad mental armor she had, in any type of outfit. He was just teasing her. He couldn't resist. He loved to rile her up, to bask in the heat of her fury that emanated from her when she had her buttons pushed one too many times. Her power over him, over all of Hellsing was attractive. Strength of mind, when channeled, is a beautiful thing, like diamonds that cut like razors.
"However, you look more a woman in a dress than a suit."
His grin widened, as her angry frown deepened. This little skirmish of words would probably end as it did a few nights ago. Integra would loose her temper, impale him with something sharp, and then he would retreat.
"I know."
That was an answer he had not been expecting. He could read minds, yes, but he often didn't choose to. It didn't make his un-life fun, being omnipresent. Though he could usually predict what next Integra would say, he usually didn't run rampant through her thoughts, unless he was really curious.
His eyes widened slightly, intreagued. You never knew, with her.
"I had come to inquire whether or not you would be needing an escort to come with you tomorrow evening."
It was a question she had dreaded to answer. She considered for a moment having Walter go with her… but he had to chauffeur her there and back again. There was no respectable way he could attend as both a driver, and an escort.
One of her troops? No… too low. The thought of Enrico Maxwell crossed her mind. She smiled inwardly. As if she would ever be taken somewhere by that Vatican piece of shit.
Alucard. He was all there was left. Did she need an escort? Having one would probably mean she would have to dance less… and Alucard would certainly scare off most of the suitors who may be brazen enough to cajole her into a waltz. How she would hate to give him the satisfaction of going out with her… but he was the most obvious, and the least foolhardy choice.
"Yes… You will be required to come with me tomorrow eve."
"Is that an order?"
She sneered. Alucard… that brazen bastard. He wanted her to say it. Admit that she was ordering him to come to a dance with her. Ah, how the mighty fall. He didn't have to go unless she ordered him. How he took such pleasure in vexing her. Her eyes hardened like ice.
"That is an order, slave."
Alucard grinned like a madman and disappeared. Once she felt his presence vanish, Integra slumped down onto the bed. Going to a ball with that insufferable wraith of a creature… this must be some sort of divine punishment. Integra looked at herself in the mirror again, to find she really looked the same. The same, not of appearance, but rather of demeanor. Even in a slinky crimson gown she looked cold and unfeeling. She both reveled in, and despaired at this discovery. It was a comfort to know she looked as strong in a dress as she did in a suit. But some small part of her found it sad that still she did not incite any other emotion than coldness. She was an ice queen. She always would be. She was made to be serious, taciturn, and rigid. She was no pushover little girl.
She unzipped the dress and slipped it back onto the hanger, attiring herself normally once more. Holding the dress on its hanger, she left her room to go back to her study. She had more paperwork to do. As she walked down the hall, Walter was seen coming towards her. He dipped his head in a polite bow.
"I have just sent your suit to be cleaned."
He said with a smile.
"There will be no need, Walter. Please, take this dress to be ironed out. I want to be able to wear it tomorrow night."
She handed him the gown and began walking down the hall once more. As Walter took the dress to be cleaned, a grin rose on his lips. Integra was an unpredictable woman.
Second chapter complete! I hope you enjoyed it. Please, feel free to send me any questions, comments, advice or requests.
Cheers!
(I do not own Hellsing or any of it's brilliant characters. I damn well wish I did, though.)
