The Habits of Monsters
Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to people who are not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Alucard . . . then he'd be mine.
Rating: PG
Part: Two of Three
Authoress note: This is a reimagining of a short one off I wrote years ago whereby Integra learns that there's more to her monster than his monstrous nature, he is also a bit weird.
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Chapter Two
"My master?" Alucard's grin was impressive, she had to admit. But now that she knew he was trying to frighten her, she could see the falseness in his eyes.
It unsettled her he was trying to make her afraid of him as a way of protecting himself. It made her uncomfortable that her ancestors had shared the frame of mind that the only way to control this monster was through violence and unwilling submission.
She was certain that there was another way.
She watched him, being careful not to show any emotion. She squashed the nervous excitement in her stomach, drowning it with hot tea. She made him wait for her; she was certain that if it ever came down to a test of patience with them, he would win. He had centuries of practice, but that didn't mean she would always cave easily to him. She smiled a little at the idea of a test of wills, a child and an ancient monster pushing each other, neither afraid of the other but neither willing to cave to the others will either. Yes, that was a future she could tolerate.
"Yes, I wanted to talk with you."
"Did young master have a topic in mind, or are you bored?" He moved closer, his eyes darting to her desk, whereon sat a platter. The wide plate held pickles, cheese, chutney, and crackers.
"I wanted to talk about the last mission. I'd appreciate it if you stopped making the men sick." She said. He snorted, laughing aloud.
"Your soldiers have weak stomachs. This is hardly my fault." His smile got wider, which she hadn't thought possible. Integra lifted a cube of cheese and ate it. She watched him watch her.
"It makes us look bad. Hardly professional to have voided stomachs all over the field of battle."
"Again, your men are weak. This is not my fault."
"You could cut back on the disembowelling a bit," Integra said. "It's disgusting." Integra ate a pickle. "The last one was very messy."
"More so than I expected." He shrugged. "I have made a note to avoid disembowelling anything that has not been dead or a vampire for less than a week." He pulled a face and she couldn't help but laugh.
"Not interested in the contents of their stomachs, unless it's blood?" She ate another cheese cube.
"Less the contents of the stomach and more the contents of the bowel. It was a miscalculation."
"The smell was awful."
"My sense of smell is far more acute than yours. Think how I must have felt. I was closer."
"You're the bloody one who tore him open." If someone would have told her a year ago that she'd be sitting at her father's desk, discussing disembowelling with a vampire and finding it funny, she would have thought them drunk. Yet here she was.
"A miscalculation." Alucard winced, as if remembering the vile mess he had made. Blood mixed with body waste was not a pleasant combination.
"So yes, if you could avoid any further miscalculations, I'd be grateful."
"Only miscalculations?"
"To be honest, I'd like it if you'd tone it down a bit, but I appreciate you make a very good deterrent. Just last week, Sir Issacs agreed to my request for further artillery equipment with no argument, a rare event."
"You think that was my doing?" Alucard smirked.
"Well, he might have just been impressed by the ferocity of our foes, and wanted to give us the best chance. But I think it probably had more to do with your display. Odd, I thought it would have the opposite effect."
"Really?"
"Yes, well, you're far more effective than artillery at what you do, but I think he believed for just a moment that if he said no to me, you might come over to see what was so vexing your master. His desire to keep you at a distance worked out very well for me."
"I am glad to be of service." Alucard dipped his head theatrically. Integra reached for the plate, lifting another cube of cheese as she offered it to her vampire. He stared at her for a long moment. Her wrist trembled a little from the awkward extension of her arm. She was about to pull back when he leaned forward and ate the small cube straight from her fingers.
"Unexpected." She had thought he might accept the cheese, but she wasn't expecting him to take it from her fingers like a pet. It was unsettling to watch a grown man eat from her hand like a dog, but it had interested her.
"Well, if master no longer requires me, I will retire." He walked towards the door. "But let me know when we need further supplies. I will make myself available."
Integra snorted.
In the following weeks, she continued to experiment with foods, mostly fresh cheese. She learned he was fond of smoked cheeses, particularly applewood. But he would never eat from a plate that was his own. He would eat off her plate if she offered him food. She had asked him about it when she noticed, and he had muttered something about the seal before sulking for the rest of the night. Walter had been little help. He'd never tried making the monster a plate of his own. Walter's energy went into protecting his own food.
So Integra turned to the only other source of knowledge about the monster she had. The Hellsing Journals. She had learned she was not the only Helsing to notice this quirk in behaviour, and she was not the only one to be interested and amused by it. She also found her answer regarding why he wouldn't eat off his own plate, one of her ancestors had been determined to drill into the monster's head the fact that he was a pet, and that pets eat from their master's hands or from bowls on the floor, not plates.
She would not put a bowl on the bloody floor, and she wasn't comfortable messing around with the seal. Old orders had a habit of staying stuck when left in place for such a long time, and removing them could have unforeseen consequences. At least the Journals seemed to give that impression.
So hand feeding and theft it was.
After a month of various experiments, she had learned that he was an insufferably fussy eater with solid food, but that wasn't overly surprising. She had tried him on most of the vegetables now and he had turned his nose up at everything except parsnips, which she hated. Although he would only eat those if she covered them in honey; literally swimming in the stuff. She discovered she did not mind them that way either. Honey makes all things better.
He ate a lot of the meats she offered, although he turned his nose up at the chicken and venison. He had come back to her for over three times when she had steak, and when she had gone to the bathroom, she had come back to find the remains of the steak mysteriously absent. She had sworn at him then, which had him in hysterics.
Walter had eventually helped, pleased that the vampire was stealing from her rather than him for a change. He had told her to try peaches; she had been a little doubtful, but she trusted Walter and she had sent out for peaches. Walter had returned with a tin because of the fruit being out of season and she had watched, shocked, as the vampire slowly emptied the tin and was left licking syrup off his fingers.
"You are an odd creature," she said as he dropped the empty tin with an air of disappointment. "What kind of vampire eats peaches?"
"One who has a limited diet."
"But you get no benefit from it, except for flavour, perhaps?" she frowned harder, confused.
"I can take something from this. Sugars are good. I can feel sugars when I eat them. But no, I get no real nutritional benefit. I could not live off them as you could, but it is pleasant." He licked at his fingers again. "Perhaps master thinks she should deny me something because of lack of necessity?"
"I have no intention of denying you. I'm just pointing out the fact that when people say Dracula, they don't think of peaches."
"It would be considerably less threatening if they did."
"I won't tell anyone."
"Then my reputation is intact."
She started experimenting with sweets, finding that he disliked mints but would happily eat butterscotch and enjoyed the texture of toffee. He swallowed chewing gum and refused not to, so she stopped giving him that. She wanted to try taffy but had yet to get hold of some.
It was a rainy afternoon when Walter returned from town with liquorish, and she had saved a piece from the bag for when the vampire would rise. She found she enjoyed feeding him; and that, to her, was the oddest thing in the whole scenario. If someone had said that her evening's highlight would one day be feeding a vampire, she would have thought them not only drunk but so drunk as to be concerned about liver damage.
He rose at dusk and appeared when she called him. He looked at her questioningly and she said nothing, just held out the small black twist. He had watched her for a few moments, as was his habit when offered something new, before taking the sweet from her with his fingers and sniffing at it.
"It smells like tar and sugar." He hesitantly licked it and made a face.
"It does not smell like tar!"
"It does," he grumbled but resolutely popped it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. His face showed his displeasure. "Yuck."
"I don't get it. I've seen you eat people, bones, clothes and pocket change, yet you turn your nose up at liquorish."
"Tar," the vampire corrected, "The stuff they use on roads." Integra rolled her eyes, resigning herself to the fact that she would never quite understand him completely.
End Chapter Two
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