Author's Notes: Hope you like this chapter. For the first time in several chapters, I'm drawing inspiration from the original short story.

Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or gain to any version of Hellsing or The Little Mermaid.


Over the next few weeks, Seras got used to the "human way" of doing things. She learned to use correct posture in walking, standing, sitting, and riding without needing to be told. She learned to eat, write, draw, and paint delicately, with the proper utensils held at the tips of her fingers. She learned to eat small portions, take small bites, and chew and swallow slowly, rather than shovel large spoonfuls in her mouth and all but swallow them whole. She learned to move with the ethereal grace and elegance she was born with as a mermaid. The last of her fledgling clumsiness was gone, and she now regained her gliding movements. Despite her naturally wild ways, all who saw her marveled at how lightly she moved.

However, the only lessons Seras truly enjoyed were dance lessons with Walter. He was an excellent piano player, or "pianist" as humans called it, but this did nothing during lessons because he was teaching the steps. Instead, Seras' governess, Mrs. Hawthorne, who was an accomplished pianist in her own right, played the music while Walter taught the steps. At first he would teach her proper posture, hand placement, steps, twirls, etc. Then he would have her practice it several times, and then he would have her governess play the music while he showed her how to put the steps to the rhythm of the music.

At first, Seras was ecstatic because she always wanted to learn to dance. It was what she looked forward to most before she became human—apart from being with the Count, that is. She saw people dancing in the boats while she was a mermaid, then in the streets during their visit into town, and she often heard people talk of balls in their conversations, and only wished she could be part of it too.

However, when it came time to learn and apply the steps, Seras found that it was much more difficult than she thought. Just like when she first learned to walk, she found that she was clumsy on her legs until she got the hang of it through repetition and refinement. It took many days, but soon her dancing was as graceful and elegant as any of her other movements.

Seras enjoyed said lessons greatly. Walter was so calm and kind that his lessons contained a nice, relaxing, almost social atmosphere. After her "beginner's awkwardness" wore off, she came to look forward to and enjoy ballroom lessons just because they were pleasant. Walter was one of the few people on the surface that didn't talk down to her for being mute, nor did he treat her like a delicate child that couldn't do the smallest thing for herself. He talked to her politely but straightforwardly; taught her the steps and trusted that she could figure it out. If she happened to have trouble with a step, he took it as a reflection of her difficulty with that step, not a reflection of her overall intelligence.

Unfortunately, he was a little too friendly as he sometimes invited Captain Bernadotte to stay or even help demonstrate when he stumbled in or paused to watch on his way to (supposedly) doing something else. Seras still had not grasped what his job was around here, but she doubted very much that it involved him being in the castle while she practiced.

Seras, who never wanted to dance with any man except the Count and only made an exception for Walter because he was her dance instructor (that and he was Walter), was personally affronted.

Unfortunately her say was overruled when Walter winced after Seras failed to return on a twirl and yanked Walter several steps with her.

"Good Heavens, Mr. Dornez! Are you all right?!" Mrs. Hawthorne cried.

"Yes, I'm quite all right," he said, straightening his back, "Thank you for your concern."

But he still winced, and she insisted to know whatever was the matter?

"Oh dear, I'm afraid I'm not as spry as I used to be," Walter said.

"Mr. Dornez!" Mrs. Hawthorne exclaimed.

"Oh, beg pardon, madam," he said.

Seeing the Captain walking by the room, he called, "Ah, Monsieur Bernadotte, would you be so kind as to be Seras' partner while I rest my back?"

"Mais oui," he said with some surprise.

'No!' Seras thought childishly.

Seeing her distress, Walter said, "My dear, it's either that or end the lesson for the day."

Since the lessons were such a pleasant social experience, on account of Walter's benevolence and leadership, Mrs. Hawthorne being so strict but ultimately willing to play music for every occasion, and Seras being the eager student absorbing all lessons like a plant absorbs water, Seras wasn't ready to pack it up. Unlike the rest of her days, which involved a lot of mindless chores, discouraging corrections from Mrs. Hawthorne, and the all too brief and strenuous ride with the Count, she greatly enjoyed this relaxed and enjoyable atmosphere with such good people.

Reluctantly, Seras agreed to place one hand in Captain Bernadotte's while she placed the other on his shoulder, while he held one hand around hers and placed the other on the small of her back. She felt very warm to be standing so close to him again…

"So, um… What dance is this?" Pip asked.

"Ah, it is but a simple waltz to help her practice for the night she attends a ball."

"If she ever gets invited to one," Pip whispered.

Seras smacked him.

"All right Miss Victoria," Walter said, "Remember the steps I taught you. And: one two three, one two three… Ah, Miss Victoria, you do not lead, let him."

Seras sighed but tried to oblige. He was very slow, lumbering, and clumsy. Mostly he was just supposed to walk back and forth and she was to practice the steps with a live partner. Yet, he kept stepping on or sabotaging her, till it got to the point that her annoyance outweighed her desire to wait for Walter to recover. The moment his hand slipped from the small of her back to her… skirt, she was done.

"Young man, I saw that," Walter glared.

Over time, Walter expanded from very slow, simple dances mostly seen at Victorian balls to faster and livelier steps, twirls, dips and cues. Mrs. Hawthorne quite disapproved. Since she disapproved of everything that wasn't slow, bland, rigid, tasteless, and joyless, this was to be expected. However, she knew how to play such "jaunty tunes," and Seras was ecstatic to find that the music to such dances were lively and the dances invigorating.

Despite his age, Walter was quite nimble on the dance floor.

When the Count came in to oversea lessons one day, he grinned widely.

"Oh, does the 'Angel of the Dance' glide again?" the Count asked.

"Indeed, sir," Walter said, "Though I would prefer not to give away my alias to the young miss."

"Come now, Walter, there's no need to be modest. There is not a single gentleman on this dark island that can sweep the fairest of the sexes off her feet quite as you can."

"My deepest thanks, sir," Walter said.

Seras looked between them and wondered what they were talking about.

Thankfully, Mrs. Hawthorne was there to ask, "What's all this about?"

"Nothing, my fair lady," the Count said, "These lessons might prove to be fun after all."

So her master came to watch and participate at times. Often he didn't. When he did, Seras was extremely self-conscious and wanted nothing more than to look good to him. This resulted in her either trying too hard to look good, which caused her to fail, or to fear looking bad so much that her dancing became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Thankfully Walter was there, and his skill on the dance floor was so great he could smooth over her mishaps, and eventually he had the good sense to have them go over slower and more romantic songs so she would be less likely to forget or mess up.

At such times he would encourage the Count to dance with her, on the guise of "seeing how well she is getting on." Seras practically melted into the Count's arms on such occasions. Nothing brought her more joy than to dance slowly and romantically with the man she loved more than any other, to music as lovely as ripples in spring water. He was so tall and devilishly handsome. He moved and spoke with a sophistication and otherworldly elegance that she found enchanting. He was so tall that even in her dance heels she barely came up to his shoulder. He was so strong and forceful under his elegant suit that Seras felt so small and delicate in his arms. Despite his size and strength, he moved with such grace and manners that Seras felt soft and graceful from the tips of her fingers that touched his hands to the tips of her toes, and this was reflected in the way she whirled her skirt. She felt none in the world were as ethereally graceful as they.

While Seras loved dancing, her shoes left much to be desired. In this time, almost all ladies' shoes had heels and uncomfortable material. Lady's dance shoes had even higher heels and even less comfortable material since it looked prettier. While Seras' lessons ran long in part due to the aforementioned ambiance, they often left Seras very sore.

While no one was looking, she sometimes went down the broad marble steps to cool her burning feet in the cold sea water. As she dipped and rubbed and splashed in the water, she would look out into the sea and think of those who lived beneath it.

Going near the sea was difficult for Seras because she knew all too well what dwelled beneath the watery dome. What endless watery abysses, perilous fathoms, dark floors, toothy monsters, glowing menaces, horrible whirlpools, burning marshes, polyp forests, and thousands of more nightmares too horrible to be dreamed. In some ways it was also haunting for her to walk or ride near the shore because she knew what made up the foam on the waves.

Still, there were those below the sea she was fond of, and even missed. The kindly Harkonnen that was always trying to make her life happier, the stage hands that were often busy but still good to her, and of course the little pest that made her life so difficult but also happier at the same time.

The first time she thought of him, almost as if to answer a summons, ("speak of the devil" comes to mind), Schrödinger appeared.

The first time this happened, Seras was very shocked to see him. It had been so long that she had forgotten just how fishlike he looked, and sometimes wondered if he was even in her life at all.

"Surprised to see me?" he smirked, "You shouldn't be. I am everywhere und nowhere!"

'So I've heard,' Seras thought, and her heart swelled with fondness and nostalgia.

"So, how are you liking it here on land, mein Schatzi?" he asked.

Seras eyes sparkled. 'It's been wonderful!'

Despite all the setbacks, Seras was truly happy on land and would not have it any other way.

"Und the Count, does he treat you well?"

'Of course!' Seras thought, 'He's a true gentleman!'

"Looks like you're still star-struck," Schrödinger said.

Seras snapped out of her reverie and glared.

"Everyone misses you down there, you know," Schrödinger said, "The stage hands say it hasn't been the same without you, and Harkonnen, well, he blames himself. He thinks it's his fault you ran off."

Seras gasped. Harkonnen thought that?

"Of course, I told him it wasn't his fault! Just because he floated idly by and allowed the aristocracy to bully und harass you for years on end until you finally reached your boiling point und shot off toward a place you wanted und people you wanted to be with like a shark toward blood, doesn't mean it was his fault!"

Seras grimaced. This was why she didn't like spending time with Schrödinger. He always brought up touchy or painful subjects for her, in the bluntest terms possible, and then either acted like he didn't care or was amused by how it affected her.

"Of course I told him I knew where you were, und said I would point the way if you said you wanted to be found."

Seras gasped. He could bring Harkonnen here?

"So here I am, waiting to hear what you haf to say."

Seras glared.

"Oh, so sorry, waiting to see what you want!"

Seras was unsure. On the one hand, she missed Harkonnen, but wasn't sure if she was worthy to see him. He had always been so kind and tried so hard to make her life happier, but she had always been so moody and dour. Often she blew off every attempt to help her, if she didn't outright swim away while he was talking to her. She appreciated it now, but felt so ungrateful and unworthy in hind sight. She felt she didn't deserve to see him, or put him to so much effort to come out to the surface when she had been the little sea slug that slunk away.

Then again, she thought sadly, the Sea King had banished her from the Sea Capital. Even if she had remained at the sea floor, she would not have been allowed to see Harkonnen or the others anyway. Then again, she thought, maybe the Sea King could have changed his mind eventually (or died and let his oldest daughter take over and reverse the command), but she had eliminated the possibility by swimming off. Now there was no chance of living near him again.

"So what should I tell him?" Schrödinger asked.

Seras smiled sadly, and touched his cheek with her hand, and he melted into the touch. No matter how irritating he got, Schrödinger always melted into a gentle caress or a warm embrace.

Seras thought sadly as she looked on the sea one day, she never really liked living down at the sea floor. She had enjoyed living in the reef with her parents because of all the sunlight, the sky she could see through the watery ceiling, and the promise she could someday break through the surface with her mother and father. When creatures from the deep came up and devoured her parents, Seras thought sadly, they also devoured everything she loved about it.

There were now some people she liked, but what was the point in living in a sea she hated for a few people she wouldn't be allowed to see again anyway?

In the mean time, Schrödinger came to see her often. On his first visit, he said, "When you are alone, just touch the sea und think of me, und I'll be there."

Not until Schrödinger said this did Seras realize just how seldom she was alone. From the time they drew back the curtains to wake her to the hour they blew out the candle for her to go to bed, Seras was always surrounded by servants; Walter, Captain Bernadotte, the stables, grooms, gardens, Count, Mrs. Hawthorne, etc. She was never by herself.

So, late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, or during the day when she was hiding from her governess anyway, Seras sometimes snuck down the broad marble stairs that led into the ocean or the balcony that led down into the river (which opened into the sea), dipped her foot in (or sometimes her fingers), thought of Schrödinger, and smiled on seeing him.

He could be annoying, but he could also be fun.

Being near Schrodinger again reminded Seras just how much she missed the others down in the sea. One night in particular she felt nostalgic and homesick—two emotions she thought she would never feel regarding the sea—as she sat on the windowsill, with her hands wrapped around her knees, in her white gossamer nightgown. She looked out at the dark ocean bathed in stars, as she herself was basked in frosty night air and moonlight, as she heard Walter playing piano in the next room. Walter's melodies were always as ethereal as the heavens.

She thought of Harkonnen and how proud he was of his own musical accomplishments. Every time she saw him before a concert or ball, Harkonnen would boast of how it was going to be the "the finest symphony he had ever conducted" or "the pinnacle of his most distinguished career!" Seras had to smile, because he always said that. The only thing consistent in his claims was how her mother had been the finest soprano he ever had the pleasure of working with, and how he felt sure that Seras would have been great had she been allowed to sing.

But now, Seras thought sadly, she had given up her voice to be here on land.

As she looked out in the pale moonlight, listening to Walter play and the waves crash upon the shore, Seras thought she heard the ethereal singing of daughters of the sea; beckoning.

"Come home again…" they seemed to sing.

When Seras went down to the waves to cool her feet, the call of the sea grew so strong the little mermaid realized she couldn't imagine it. She looked out and saw all the stage hands, arm in arm, reaching and singing out to her.

Come home again… come home…

Wherever you may be…

Come home again, maiden of the sea…

Seras gasped and looked closer. Far out to sea, she saw the grey hair of old Harkonnen, which seemed silver in the moonlight; he who had not been up to the surface in many a year. As he emerged, his deep lovely baritone also emerged from the light tenors of the singing maids, the song of the crashing waves, and the heaven music of Walter.

I hear a dream… all day…

I hear a dream that calls to me…

To her, he reached out his large arm and sang:

Come home again, you marine maid, marine maid

Home again… to the sea…

His song made her want to cry. It made her long for something from deep inside herself that she did not even know existed. Schrödinger would later say, "You can take a mermaid out of the sea, but you cannot take the mermaid out of the girl, no matter how many potions you consume."

'What a rip off,' Seras thought.

Regardless, she could not go back. She had sold her voice and taken the potion. She could not reverse the spell even if she wanted. The only way to return to the sea would be to see the Count marry another, and Seras could not part with him even if she felt like she were slashed by a thousand knives. Besides, she loved the land no matter how many problems it brought.

The servants did wonder why she kept returning from the river soaked though, or why they would come to fetch her in the morning only to find her nightgown sopping wet or left to dry on a chair while she had curled up naked under her covers.

"There's something strange about that girl, no doubt about it," one of the servants said to another.

"You're just now figuring that out?"

"It might be the full moon," said another, "They say it's such an enchanting time that works its magic."

"It also brings the highest tide, and they say the sea and the moon are so connected to each other. And that girl has always had the sea about her."

"Oh Maudy, not another one of your wild stories!"

Despite how high it brought the tide, Harkonnen and the stage hands would never swim too close to land. The closest they ever got to each other was Seras standing on the tips of her toes on the lowest step, reaching her arms out to them, as they sang and beckoned from out beyond the waves.

Many servants in the castle said on how beautifully they slept and what enchanting music they dreamed of. They attributed it to Walter's music, who was deeply gratified.

It must have been the magic of the full moon, because when Seras looked out after that, Harkonnen and the stage hands never did it again.

Eventually she turned her thoughts back only to life on land, though it took a few days to adjust seeing the sunny sky, flowers and fields the same way as she had before she appreciated the beauty of the night sky.

Despite these midnight trysts and occasional sneakaways (the Captain had smirked when Seras came to watch him break a filly near the stables. To Mrs. Hawthorne's indignant calls, she smiled and tapped on her throat as though to say, "Well, I can't speak, so I can't answer!"), Seras continued with her daily schedules, lessons, and routines. The only thing that did not change was the way she rode. Her governess fought the Count bitterly on that front, saying that it was not seemly or natural for a young lady to dress in men's clothes, or to ride as a man rides! But the Count would not budge.

"Madam, I only endure these tedious lessons because I wish to take my ward with me into the season without sacrificing the good standing of your so marvelous country," he spat the word. "I even endure your presence at all hours of the day, in all parts of the castle, so that you may ensure my ward does not fall back into old habits…"

Seras often unintentionally slouched while she was reading, which her governess would correct, or sneak bonbons while no one was looking. She also stole desserts from the dinner table when she could get away with it, and often the maids had found not a few "treasures" hidden under her pillow and bed like a dog hiding its bones in the kennel.

"But riding is the one concession I expect you to make. I enjoy my daily ride with my ward, but sidesaddle is a style in which she has neither talent, nor safety. It would take another few weeks of nonstop practice for her to get back in the sidesaddle—as it were—which would either cut into my daily ride or your lessons. And I do not intend to give up my ride."

With that, he straightened his paper, and that was the end of that.

"She will be shunned from society!" the woman exclaimed.

"She will never enter society," the Count said. "Except to walk the fringes timidly by my side."

"She will be mocked by everyone worth mentioning!"

"Then she will have an audience for her antics," he said simply.

In the other room, Seras was waltzing with an imaginary partner. Her movements were graceful but grand and sweeping, and she wasn't watching where she was going. On her way into their room she bumped into a vase stand, but then deftly caught the vase, brew big breaths when she realized how heavy it was, heaved it back onto the stand, where it stood crooked, then swept off dancing her imaginary night away.

Her governess looked horrified.

The Count smirked and turned the page.

The servants' gossip about Seras' strange behavior soon reached her governess' ears though. It did not take too long before she approached him again and demanded:

"Count Dracula, what is all this I hear about the girl being dangerous?" Mrs. Hawthorne demanded.

"Oh, the staff believes she might have been from an asylum," he said boredly.

"What?! An asylum?! And you let her remain here?!"

"There is no evidence that such a thing is true," he said.

"Have you looked into it?" she demanded.

"I have sent servants, but they have not found any confirmation on such a girl matching my foundling's description," he said without looking up from his paper. "Besides, she will not reveal a thing."

Mrs. Hawthorne was beside herself.

"How can you allow a potentially dangerous criminal to remain in your castle?" she demanded, "When she might attack on of your staff?!"

"There's no need to worry, she already has," he said.

"WHAT?!"

"She found some of the grooms flogging one of the horses in the stables," he said, "So she slashed him with his own whip. The groom has been dismissed and the breaking of the filly, which had angered my foundling into violence, has been moved to Captain Bernadotte. He has an eye for horses, and is her instructor besides. I imagine his methods will suit her better."

"But still! To attack a groom!" Mrs. Hawthorne exclaimed.

"She only reacts violently to those that hurt living things," he said. "It was the same with some urchins by the sea."

"She did what?!"

The Count sighed with frustration, and explained that Walter had claimed that Seras had seen some little boys tormenting a baby seal from the castle window, and without warning she had dashed down the stairs, ran out to them, and beaten them soundly before he could catch up. While she was a small girl compared to most grownups, she was huge compared to children, and she had pulled no punches when she beat them.

The Count smirked as he reported that she had boxed one of the boy's ears so soundly he had fallen to the sound rolling and howling with pain, and that she had caught one of the boys by the wrist and knocked him about with a closed fist.

She had beaten them black and blue and might have done worse had Walter not caught up to her. "Hey, that's no way to treat children!"

But Seras had been in a passion and pointed furiously at the little seal, which was covered in sand and blood from the boys' treatment of it.

"She is a danger and a menace to society!" Mrs. Hawthorne cried, "I demand you lock her away at once, before she brings harm to anyone else!"

"She is only a danger to those that bring harm to animals," he said simply.

"But they are only ordinary animals!" Mrs. Hawthorne exclaimed. "God gave us leave to expand upon the earth and dominate all creatures within it for our benefit. Humans were created to inhabit the earth, and beasts were created only to serve humans. It is our God-given right to use animals how we see fit; whether they be to eat, use for labor, or even use for our own amusement."

Now, the Count was not what one might call a "moral man," but he did not regard humans any more than he regarded animals. There were some individuals he deemed worthy of his care in the endless forest or worthless beings, such as Walter, Captain Bernadotte and his foundling among the humans, and his hunting hounds and stallion among animals; but he regarded their worth by their merit and not by their species. He enjoyed a bloody war or hunt as much as the next murderer, but did not regard the killing the one as more enjoyable or heinous than the other. So when he heard self-proclaimed "men and women of God" like Mrs. Hawthorne declare the life and amusement of a human as infinitely worthier than those of creatures different from them, he was deeply aggravated by their arrogance and hypocrisy. Apparently morals only existed and applied to human beings that looked, thought, and acted exactly like themselves.

He told her as much and she said, "The girl must not be one of God's creatures because she would lash out at one of the men that God created women to serve and marry. And to lash out at one of the children she was made to bear! No, she must be the devil's maid to even think of lashing out at poor children like that."

"I image she herself was beaten about as a child to warrant such a strong reaction," the Count said with perfect indifference. "Those who have been harmed tend to relive their trauma when they see it inflicted near them, whether on themselves or another, and they tend to react just as strongly as though they are defending themselves from their very tormentor."

As you can imagine, it was personal experience that caused the Count to say such a thing.

"Well, I for one cannot abide by it!" Mrs. Hawthorne said. "I shall not stay here and wait to become a victim like that groom and children. You must lock her up at once, for the benefit of society. No matter what though, you lose me as your employee."

So the next day the Count and Seras went to see her off as she departed in the carriage. She said farewell to the Count with cold civility, and did not acknowledge Seras at all.

"There is God's mercy for you," he said to Seras as the carriage departed.

Seras believed it was because he was a moral man, and was all the more taken with him for his moral disapproval of her governess.

So Mrs. Hawthorne's lessons came to an end. Thankfully Seras had gotten into some good habits during Mrs. Hawthorne's several weeks' stay at the castle, so all Walter and the servants had to do was make sure Seras kept it up with gentle reminders to keep sitting, standing, eating, etc. like she did before. Because Seras admired Walter and respected the servants, she obeyed their gentle reminders to fix her slouch here or keep her hands folded there.

All of Seras' training paid off when the Count decided to invite several guests over, on Walter's most insistent urging. They were to stay to enjoy a few days of hunting and dinner parties. The Count was set on hare coursing, but Walter strongly advised fox hunting. The Count believed coursing to be much more intense, difficult, and thrilling. It set his blood a boil just at the thought. Besides, he already had his wolfhounds, which were bred to course.

(Seras later learned that "coursing" was hunting by sight rather than scent, and wolfhounds and greyhounds were sight hunters, while bloodhounds and beagles were scent hunters. Coursing was also more difficult and intense since the dogs had to keep the animal in sight in order not to lose it. Scent hounds could afford to lose sight of the animals since they could use scent to find them again, and so the riders could chase more slowly and drag the hunt out much longer.)

Seras was surprised by her master's intensity. She had never seen him look so… alive. After months of watching him and then spending time with him, he always seemed very bored, melancholic, nostalgic, introspective, or some combination thereof. The most excited he ever seemed was when he was riding. Now he looked eager, energetic, passionate, driven, and hot-blooded. It was very startling for her.

"This is the very reason I advise fox hunting," Walter said. "In the first place, coursing is now considered a more 'coarse' hunting method enjoyed by the lower classes, while fox hunting is still considered a classier pastime by the aristocracy on this island. Secondly, scent hunting would require far less speed and drive since the hounds pursue and wear our their quarry with far less urgency; as the trail of their prey can be picked up once they lose sight of it, allowing for more interaction and fashionable riding for their riders."

"Come, Walter!" the Count tried. "Where is the sport in that? Surely you English enjoy the thrill of the hunt!"

"A thrill it may be, but it is a savory thrill on this dark island. If you want to be on good standing with the aristocracy, you must entertain them with the pastimes they enjoy."

"Oh, very well!" the Count exclaimed with an impatient wave of his hand. "Call on the huntmaster tomorrow and rent a good thirty scent hounds."

"But of course, sir."

Seras did not understand a word of it. To her, hare coursing sounded like coursing around looking at hares, which seemed much less horrible than fox hunting. She was sad that the latter activity won.

At any rate, Seras was excited to have guests in the castle. She was so giddy she could barely hold still as the servants put her in her finest dress the day they were to arrive. To Seras, it was just like going to town, only now the town was coming over to her. She could enjoy seeing and interacting with new people without having to leave.

The servants were also excited about it, as this was the first time they ever had guests.

"Isn't this so exciting, Paulette?" Maudy said, "We can finally see some fine ladies and gentlemen 'round this stuffy old castle."

"And we've been commanded to open the curtains!" exclaimed another, "Sunlight, pouring in these dark old halls! Fancy that!"

"Yes," said the servant who tightened Seras' corset. "It's going to be very exciting around here, what with the Lord S— and… oh, hold still!"

"Well, if you ask me, it's about time Master invited some fine ladies and gentlemen over to his home. Imagine, an old foreigner like him been cooped up in this old castle like a hermit, with naught to do but raise a young girl all on his own…"

Seras wrote in the little handheld journal they had her carry around: "But Master has you to help him."

"Yes," she smiled, and patted Seras' arm, "It is nice to have one's work appreciated; but we are only servants. He should be around ladies and gentlemen of his own station."

"Who are some of the guests due to arrive?"

They reviewed some names and titles that meant nothing to Seras, and gushed about the good things they'd heard about them or how well their presence could improve their foreign hermit of a master's standing.

"Especially that Lady Ingrid," said one. "I've heard that she is just lovely!"

"I hope she likes me," Seras wrote in her journal.

"Oh, they'll love you!" exclaimed Carlotta, "Just be the little angel I know is in there somewhere."

"And don't go chewing on the bones at supper and give yourself away!" said Paulette, and she continued getting Seras ready.

Seras was so giddy she could barely hold still for dressing, nor stand still while she and her master waited for the first carriage to drive up. She was so excited she kept bouncing on the balls of her feet, and looked eagerly from her master to the carriage and back again. He was perfectly indifferent about the whole affair, but could not help smiling at her enthusiasm.

Unfortunately, the fine ladies and gentlemen were not quite as glamorous as Seras imagined them. Here in this class conscious society, humans often talked well of people from "good families," with "fine breeding" and so on. Seras, who never got to see them in person, often imagined these people from "good families" as being cut from finer cloth than the rest, just as her master was.

What she saw instead were people more or less as average as anyone else, just in shinier clothes. From the carriages, she saw emerge men who were old and fat, women tall and wrinkled, ladies with plain faces, and so on. For all of humans' talk of people from "good stock," their noble guests did not look, speak, or move any more exceptionally well than the servants around the castle or the people in town.

In fact, once the Count greeted them, welcomed them to his home, and introduced them to Seras, she found that they were no friendlier than anyone else. Most people were rather kindly toward Seras when they first met, and were willing to overlook her little quirks and oddities. Many found her odd and reacted accordingly, but by and large they were good to her. These nobles, when not ignoring her entirely, treated her with a great deal of scorn, condescension, and, at times, contempt.

They did not speak to or of her very often because she was beneath their notice.

When emerging from their carriages, they greeted the Count either with excessive extravagance or underwhelming indifference.

"Oh, Count Dracula, it is an honor to finally make your acquaintance at last," one woman said.

"I say, fine day in the country, eh? Old chap?" said one red-faced gentleman taking a bit of snuff.

One beautiful young woman, the daughter of one couple who arrived, whom Seras quickly learned was Lady Ingrid, was particularly coquettish toward her master. After her parents introduced her, she made a slight courtesy. "It is quite an honor to make your acquaintance, my lord," she said.

'What a hussy!' Seras thought.

"Indeed, the pleasure is all mine, my lady," Count Dracula said with perfect charm. Seras was surprised to find her normally indifferent and introverted master so graciously polite. She was to learn later that he could really heat up the charm when he felt like it.

Now was not the right time to feel like it, Seras thought, and she quickly stood between the two.

Unfortunately, none of the charm directed toward or from her master was directed at her. Whenever they saw her, they looked quite put out.

"And what is this?" said one woman.

"I would like to introduce my ward, Seras Victoria," the Count said every time.

Hearing her name on his lips always brought her chills. She was so happy to finally hear him saying her name.

"Oh dear, she really is quite out of style, isn't she?" one women said, glaring at Seras through her tiny eyeglasses attached to a stick.

"I don't believe I've seen dresses like that since I cleared out my grandmother's summer attic," said another.

"Yes, my little foundling did not find your nation's current fashion entirely agreeable," the Count said with politeness Seras had never heard him use before (she was to learn later that her master could put on the charm when he so chose), "So I bought clothes far more suited to her."

"Oh… indeed," said one of the gentlewomen, with a look of clear disapproval.

"I say, old chap," one of the men inquired, "You could have done yourself far better a match than this old thing."

Seras opened her mouth to protest when her master laughed beside her. "Indeed I can, for she is not my wife, but my ward."

"Oh? Indeed? How did that come about? What relation is she to you?"

The Count explained how she had been found on a beach in only rags and without any ability to speak, and how he had taken her in because she had nowhere else to go.

"A mute, eh? I suppose you could have saved yourself the money and just bought yourself a dog!" and the men all laughed and laughed.

Seras was rather unhappy by the time the last of the guests arrived in the castle and sat down to tea and coffee in the parlor. She learned rather quickly that the gentility were rather rude, thoughtless, and careless. They loitered about with an air of practiced nonchalance, of careless indifference, and a sort of whimsical apathy. They were polite and charming to each other in conversation, but lobbed or snapped orders at servants without looking at them.

"Oh, Walter, could fetch my coat from the closet!"

"Oh, boy, send more ice to my room. My head is killing me."

In fact, Walter and the footman often stood at the ready to give assistance when needed, but the nobles did not pay them any more attention than the furniture. In fact, they paid more attention to the furniture than the people.

"Oh, what a lovely painting!"

"Is this grandfather clock made from hand-crafted mahogany?"

They also talked of careless things. The men of subjects Seras knew nothing about and/or had little interest in, like hunting, fishing, cards, news, politics, and so on. Women talked of fashion, dinner parties, balls, some gentleman they had their eye on, and so on. They often mentioned something said by people that Seras had never heard of. They spouted "commonly known" wisdoms that Seras had both never heard of, and thought reeked of self-importance. Usually about other

Seras had no idea who Darwin was, but she thought he must be a very wretched man to think that some people were more "fit" to rule the world and have the right to subjugate others, or to think that some humans were better than others.

Seras sat close to her master during the next few days, and she was very glad for it because they were not very pleasant to be around. They hardly ever looked at her, much less spoke to her. The few times they looked at her it was in a condescending sneer, and the few times they spoke to her it were in a very condescending tone.

Walter had Seras carry a journal and a pen around for this very occasion, so she could communicate. But, no one ever wanted to wait to see what she had written. The few times anyone spoke to her, as soon as they saw her scribbling a response, they would scoff, roll their eyes and get up to leave; or, if the Count was nearby, simply talk to him instead.

It made Seras feel very hurt and humble, and for the first time it made her see herself through human eyes. She started to feel stupid, childish, and almost like nothing but a pet. It was a very unhappy feeling to have.

One lady actually did have a pet. A little fluffy dog bred to fit under her arm and in her lap. It often sat on a velvet cushion and had a very strict diet of the best of the best, and Lady Cecile often hounded the servants to find better food for her "pwecious widdle Bonnie-Bon." Seras was a little curious because she had never seen dogs so small, but it often grow

"Get away!" the woman snapped at Seras, waving her fingers in front of her face. "Can't you see you're frightening my poor wittle Bon-Bon?"

Bon-Bon didn't seem scared. In fact, Bon-Bon was the real terror. Small and fluffy as it was, it was spoiled and aggressive. When it wasn't held in her arms or kept securely on its pillow, it would go about the room, hide under chairs or table clothes, lie in wait, and, once it saw someone coming, attach people's ankles. Since women wore long skirts, they were safe from physical harm, though their skirt hems were not so lucky. It also only attacked servants, so Lady Cecile did nothing. It was the servants job to unlatch themselves from the dog without hurting her precious widdle Bonnie-Bon.

At one point in the visit, Bon-Bon attacked Seras' skirts. It started growling, tugging and ripping. The attack was so sudden that Seras was started. Thinking it was a diseased rat, she instinctively kicked. Bon-Bon flew across the room and over the banister.

'MY BON-BON!" Lady Cecile screamed, and raced to her baby, along with most other nobles.

Her master started shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"Do you find this amusing, Count Dracula?!" Lady Cecile exclaimed indignantly.

"Oh no, my lady. Not at all. I'm just… quivering with anger. I will take my ward into the next room and punish her accordingly."

"See that you do!" one man exclaimed.

They were barely in the parlor down the hall when her master unleashed his laughter. He laughed so hard he shook and nearly doubled over as he clutched his sides. "That was marvelous, my little foundling!" he exclaimed, "This is why I keep you around!"

Seras was a little uncomfortable by how funny he found it, but simpered just the same.

The other nobles were not quite so pleased. They believed the kick was a pre-meditated, cold-blooded assault on the poor little dog's life, not an instinctive act of self-defense from being assaulted herself, and had nothing but glares and malicious whispers for her forever after.

It turned out the dog survived and was not seriously hurt, but it never went near Seras again.

Despite their malicious gossip toward her, Seras noticed that everything else they did was an amusing diversion to take away their boredom. They attended breakfast in the morning, followed by light conversation in the parlor, followed by an early luncheon, followed by some card games in another parlor, followed by an afternoon tea, followed by some meandering in the gardens, followed by more card games in the parlor, followed by meals, followed by more talking in the parlor. On and on and on.

Perhaps the worst was the fox hunt. Seras had gotten used to helping to get her horse ready herself, so she was a little surprised to find the nobles did no such thing. On the day of the hunt, the stables were crowded with grooms hard at work to get several horses brushed, saddled, and ready to ride. Meanwhile, the nobles stood around outside in their fancy riding habits and red coats and smart looking riding crops and chatted while they waited for the horses to be ready.

Chatted! As if they didn't chat enough during meals, teas, lounges in the parlors, card games, walks around the castle, and more lounging in the parlors! Their careless ways had bothered Seras for a while, but now she realized they were constantly just sitting and standing around. At least the servants worked as they gossiped and her master was quiet as he went about his day. Seras thought with contempt that if these nobles spent half their time talking as they did working with their hands, they should have no end of "accomplishments" the young ladies boasted about!

They also sneered down their noses at Seras petting, feeding, and brushing her Old Grey as he was tacked up. Seras couldn't understand it. She loved interacting with her Old Grey. It seemed a lot more enjoyable and memorable than just hopping on his back, directing him around by pulling on the reigns and nudging at his sides, then hopping off and going about her day. This way she

That beautiful and coquettish Ingrid stood idle, looking around for something to do while she waited for the horses to be ready. She sneered down her nose, scoffed and walked away when she saw Seras brushing the Old Grey. She then ambled over to where the red filly stood.

"Oh! What an beautiful chestnut," she said.

Captain Bernadotte patted the Old Grey's neck and bade Seras keep brushing as he walked up to her.

"Tell me sir; is this a colt or mare?"

"She's a filly, and she's not ready to ride yet."

"Yet, she's out and about."

"I figure she could stand to get used to the excitement."

"Yet she is not ready for the excitement of the hunt?"

"Nah, at this point it would give her too much strain, if not excitement."

"Ah, I think young fillies can take more… excitement than men deem worthy of them," Ingrid grinned.

Seras glared.

"Maybe, but not for her," Pip smiled, "She's still being broken in."

"And who, pray tell, is handling her breaking?"

"You're looking at him, my lady," he grinned.

Seras frowned.

"O! can't you make an exception for little old me?" she asked coquettishly.

"Non, I'm afraid I cannot do that for you, my dear. Not only is it not good for the horse, but it would be dangerous for you. She is a very wild and untamed filly. You would have your hands full trying to keep her in line."

"Do you think I cannot handle it?" she grinned.

"Non, I think you could handle her up until the moment you are thrown."

"Oh, but you can handle her, am I to understand?"

She leaned against the wall and very subtly jutted out her breasts as she spoke.

If you believe this is one of those situations where a temptress tries to cast her womanly wiles on a man who is too incorruptible to notice her flirting or too gentlemanlike to play along…

Have you met Captain Bernadotte?

"Indeed, my lady," he grinned, and leaned a hand against the wall. "I have extensive knowledge on her wily ways."

"Indeed?" she asked, scooting closer to him. "Well, you must be a very… skilled horseman to keep such a… spirited filly under reign."

"I have many years of practice, my lady," he grinned.

"Indeed?" she smirked suggestively, "Then I believe you've met your match, for I too have much experience over the saddle. I have brought even the most wild, unbridled…" her eyes flickered down for an instant, "aggressive mounts under my weight."

"Indeed? You must be a fiercesome woman to behold."

"And happen upon."

Seras made a loud retching sound over where she was. She might not have fully understood what their euphemisms meant, but she knew they were euphemisms for something and she knew disgusting dirty talk when she heard it! A lifetime of watching merpeople flirt and chase each other around the palace taught her that.

"You all right, ma cher?" he called over from where he was.

Seras held up the bridle and pointed to the Old Grey.

"All right, all right, I am coming over." And to his credit, he pushed off the wall, dusted himself off and prepared to go over to her.

Ingrid was affronted of having her attention to the help cut short by this homely, dumb nobody.

"At any rate, she's not fit for riding," he said. "She had a bad run in with breaking that has made her wary and aggressive, and she was spirited before that besides. She would not make a good lady's horse."

"Bad run in with breaking?" Ingrid snapped. "Then you admit to being a poor trainer."

"I did not say it was because of me," he said, "Her breaking was charged to someone else, but he did not treat her as he should. I have ma cher to thank for bringing it to my attention."

Ingrid looked where he pointed and saw that same mute girl standing by the ugly flea-bitten grey horse.

"Old Carter had much experience with horses, but also the bottle," he grimaced. "The Count put him in charge of breaking his horses, but it seems Carter took the term literally. He almost spoilt a perfectly good mare with excessive floggings," he patted her neck, "I am too busy handling most of the stables and the Count's affairs to oversee all matters. Ma cher must have heard the whipping while my attention was elsewhere, because one day as I was tacking up her grey she just tore off and put a stop to it right quick. Her interference brought the attention to me, and I was able to take over her breaking before the filly was spoilt for good."

"Oh yes, she sounds like just a perfect angel of mercy," Ingrid sneered.

"Not an angel," he grinned, "Just a girl who loves horses."

With that, he smiled and walked over to help finish tacking up and helping the girl up on the Old Grey.

Ingrid narrowed her eyes, but decided to let it slide. After all, the girl might have that cute, innocent, helpless doe-like beauty persona that men love to aid, but Ingrid herself had a womanly treasure that no man could resist. Besides, a brief thrill with the help was all she wanted anyway.

The hunt itself was different but enjoyable for Seras. There was more pomp and circumstance and ceremony than usual. There were also several riders and around thirty dogs. After some customary words and exchanges with the huntmaster, handler of the dogs, and so on, they took off. What Seras was to understand was they were all going to follow the dogs to hunt a fox. It seemed like rather good sport. Seras thought that with such a large party and so many small, chubby, wrinkly dogs they had to ride behind, they would be slow enough they would never catch the fox. On top of that, the riders often chatted and the dogs would "YO-LO-LO-LO!" so loud she thought people under the sea could hear them, and so figured the fox would hear them coming a mile away and easily escape.

Unfortunately, Seras was to learn later that the object of the hunt wasn't to catch the fox in a race of speed like she often used to see her master's wolfhounds do, but to tire it out. The dogs would pick up its scent, chase after it howling so the riders would follow, then lose it, sniff around, pick up its scent again, then chase after it howling so the riders would follow, lather rinse repeat.

Her master was thrilled with the hunt and followed the house avidly, though also with a bit of impatience and boredom because he was used to following the speedy wolfhounds that chased fast-running animals by sight and could not afford to let up for an instant, lest their quarry be lost forever. Seras was just happy to give her Old Grey another chance to go out to stretch his legs, and to be with her master, and to experience this new riding method.

Unfortunately the nobles seemed to think this affair just about the chasing of the fox as much as they did about an opportunity to ride fashionably, and Seras sighed. Did no one enjoy the ride for the sake of the ride as she did?

Unfortunately, Seras also learned just how a hunting party could ware out a fox if pursuing it long enough. She honestly kept thinking it would get away until the moment the hounds swarmed it. Her heart stopped, she was sick with horror, and remained numb for the next few days.

No need to go into what the humans and hounds did with the fox, as it would make you sick.

Seras was still quite depressed the following evening, and wanted nothing to do with these people that had no compassion for a living creature that had tried to get away from hunters; to fend for its life. Seeing it swarmed by large dogs with pointed teeth once again reminded her of the night her mom and dad were surrounded by dark creatures with pointed teeth, and she had nightmares for weeks.

While Seras was feeling ill with misery, the nobles remained blissfully unaware and the ladies celebrated their joy by singing duets after dinner.

It did not occur to Seras to blame her master. She knew he enjoyed the thrill of the ride, the chase, the hunt. On some level she was in denial about the reasons he enjoyed it. She was still in the throes of young love. Nothing the Count ever said or did was wrong to her. Besides, the memory of her childhood loss reminded her of her childhood loneliness, and this made her all the more desperate to quench it with the reciprocated love of the man she believed could fill her heart, her soul, her very life with endless joy, warmth, and comfort.

This had put her in a deep melancholy not like any she had felt since before she became human.

The young ladies, who were now attired in their best silks and cloths of gold, sang before the Count and his guests. One of them sang more sweetly than all the others, and when the Count smiled at her and clapped his hands, the little mermaid felt very unhappy, for she knew that she herself used to sing much more sweetly.

"Oh," she thought, "if he only knew that I parted with my voice forever so that I could be near him."

Walter's graceful fingers now began to dance to the most wonderful music. Seeing the nobles turn to each other to talk, she could not take it anymore. The little mermaid rose and then lifted her pretty white arms, rose up on the tips of her toes, and skimmed over the floor. Walter's dance lessons had paid off as she moved with such ethereal grace with a partner only she saw. No one had ever danced so well. Each movement set off her beauty to better and better advantage, and her eyes spoke more directly to the heart than any of the singing ladies could do.

Then she extended her little white hand toward the Count. The party was scandalized by her forwardness, but the Count laughed, accepted her invitation, and danced about the room with her. It was a small parlor crowded with many guests, meant for lounging, chatting, and piano-playing, but they danced just the same. They seemed to have eyes only for each other.

Soon they parted and her master continued to play the host while the little mermaid went back to playing the outcast whose presence was only tolerated because of him, and the guests eventually went on to amuse themselves. At the very least, the dance put them in a livelier mood.

Later that evening, the little mermaid sighed as she walked away from the group. When she saw her master gazing at the moon from the balcony, she smiled and walked out to him.

"Don't you love me best of all?" the little mermaid's eyes seemed to question him.

In response he smiled, took her in his arms and kissed her lovely forehead.

"Yes, you are most dear to me," said the Count, "for you have the kindest heart. You love me more than anyone else, and you remind me of a young girl I once encountered but might never find again."

In answer to her questioning look, he pulled her away from the orange gas light and out into the silver moonlight.

"You might have already heard this," he explained, "but over a year ago I was sailing on a ship that got wrecked in a storm, and the waves cast me near a holy church, where many young girls performed the rituals. The youngest of them brought me from the sea and saved my life. Though I was with her for only a short time, she is the only person in this world I could love."

His words brought great distress to the mermaid.

Seeing that his words had brought her grief, he smiled and wiped the tears away. "But you are so much like her that you almost replace the memory of her in my heart. She belongs to that church; her family will not part with her. Therefore it is my good fortune that I have you. We shall never part."

'Alas, he doesn't know it was me that saved his life,' the little mermaid thought.

"I shall never forget the way she gazed upon me as I woke," he said, and he gazed deeply upon moon as he spoke. "I was on the brink of death; the cold water froze my body and the darkness engulfed my spirit. I was exhausted, injured, and unable to go on. In my darkest hour, I… I was ready to embrace my death."

Seras was startled. She had never heard her master discuss these things with anyone, ever. He seemed the kind to hide his true thoughts and feelings just as the night hides its secrets. Seras looked upon the moon that held his gaze, and thought wryly that the full moon had once again weaved its magic spell. Once again, the pale moonlight revealed what would otherwise remain hidden in darkness.

"I heard a voice, calling out to me," he said after a long pause. "It was the most beautiful sound in the world; like broken pieces of a shattered melody."

'Well, that's not very flattering,' Seras thought moodily, and touched her throat. 'Broken? Shattered? Is this what my voice sounded like?'

"It drew me from my nothingness," he said. "I opened my eyes and saw… the most beautiful, clear blue eyes. I once again lost consciousness, and after what felt like only a moment I heard that same voice, sing to me. It drew me out of the coldness and darkness, and into the warmth and light of day. I could feel her voice draw my soul back to my body, feel the sun's warmth restore my body, feel her tender fingers brush against my cheek… and I could see her large blue eyes, gazing so lovingly upon me."

His words were clear water that quenched the visceral curiosity she had for so long.

She remembered everything he described, as she had been right there. She remembered the night when she had saved him from being crushed by a beam and called out to him, and how he had opened his eyes for a moment, only to slip back into deep unconsciousness. How she had rescued him from the wreckage and carried him through the night, over the sea in the moonlight, searching for any shore that could save his life. She remembered her exhaustion and relief as she pushed him onto the soft white sand, below the garden where the church stood. She remembered how tenderly she had touched his cheek as the sun broke through the clouds, and how warmly she sang to him as the warmth returned to her soul. She remembered how she had hidden behind the foam after her song had drawn the help he needed. She saw the pretty maid he believed had saved his life.

A sigh was the only sign of her deep distress.

"Is something the matter, my little foundling?" the Count asked.

It was the first time he ever showed personal concern for her well-being. It both broke and warmed her heart.

"I was the one that saved you," she wanted to say. "It was my eyes you saw, my voice you heard, my tender hand upon your cheek."

But he could not read her thoughts or her lips, so he only smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You are easily excitable, just like she was."

His words pierced her like a harpoon.

'He only believes she was the one that rescued him,' the little mermaid thought. If he only knew it had been her eyes he saw that looked on him with such love and concern, voice that brought him back from the brink of despair. If he only knew it her and not the church girl, he would forget the other girl and love the little mermaid in an instant.

The little mermaid held his hand, but he took it as pity and not a confession of love.

"You are exactly like her in every way," he said, "If I cannot have her, I am glad to have you."

'But you have me,' she thought. 'You need not pursue her any longer. You have found the girl that saved your life, who loves you more desperately than she can say.'

"Come, we have dallied enough," he said, and he gave her hand a solid pat before letting go and moving inside. "We should return to the others."

His confession and departure troubled the little mermaid greatly, but she reminded herself that she had nothing to fear because she was armed with the knowledge that she had been the one that rescued him; and besides, he could never see the other girl anyway.

'He says that the other maid belongs to the holy church. She will never come out into the world, for her family would not allow it; and no doubt she would not desire it. So they will never see each other again. It is I who will care for him, love him, and give all my life to him."

But something chilled her as she walked back in.