Author's Note: I made a serious error last chapter. While England's "social season" was in the winter months during the early 1800's, better travel and sanitation shifted the Social Season over to spring and summer by the mid to late 1800's. During the Victorian Era, the bulk of "the Season" was from Easter to August. So... yeah. Just pretend it's now spring instead of late autumn. (I'm so glad I've been vague about the seasonal background so far.)

Also, sorry for the long absence. Life is stressful, and these are fantasies I use to escape the pressures of reality. Once I started writing them down, it became yet another obligation that added to my stress instead of relieving it.

Also, I'm very sorry to say that I've deleted A Tangled Tale and Girl at the Window. I've already written two Seras x Pip stories about an erotophobic maiden who falls for a womanizing mercenary (Beauty and the Geese and Blood Innocence), and I don't want to write it any more. It used to be cathartic since I AM a painfully shy erotophobic girl with childhood sex trauma, but now it's just painful to keep dredging up. Plus, I now have a boyfriend in real life whom we've been trying to work these issues out with, so it's not fun to write about Seras and Pip trying to work through her sex trauma when I have to do it with my boyfriend too. (I'm very, very, very sorry to everyone who was looking forward to updates on those fics. I didn't mean to lead you on. Believe it or not, I've agonized over it for months. I just can't cope anymore.)

Thankfully there's none of that in The Little Mermaid, and I don't have any other stories to distract, and there's only about 5-6 chapters to go, so this should be over soon.

Disclaimer: I own and make money off nothing here. This is simply a brain doodle inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula, Kohta Hirano's Hellsing, and H.C. Andersen's The Little Mermaid. (There's less Disney influence here.)


After Seras walked away from the foreign family, she found her master talking with two ladies and a gentleman. He smiled warmly on seeing her, and she felt her heart bloom despite everything she had heard earlier. She remained happily by his side while he greeted his guests, until they eventually crossed paths with the church girl. Seras instantly frowned, while the Count was very pleased.

"Ah! My dear Fraulein," he said, and brought her hand to his lips in greeting.

"Please do not call me that," she said, "That is what my grandfather calls me."

"Then what terms of affection would you prefer, my lady?"

"None at present," she said.

There was a primness in her disposition that had not been present earlier.

"As you wish," he said warmly.

She nodded, then looked at Seras.

Seras felt sick with jealousy and hatred, and did not even try to hide it.

The church girl narrowed her eyes, and blinked. "I say, dear count, I saw this young lady speaking with my grandfather earlier this evening."

"Indeed? That must have been a surprise, for she is quite mute."

"Is she?" the girl asked, "I'm afraid I did not receive a chance to learn as such for myself. I meant to join in the conversation, but my grandfather turned his attention to the... usual topic," she sighed. "And I'm afraid his discussion with her quite dissolved, as his attention turned quite fixatedly onto me. I did not give her the attention she deserved at the time, nor have we been properly introduced despite our mutual acquaintance."

To Seras, her primness melted and she said in a warm, kind tone: "I would like to take this moment to apologize, and to ask you for your forgiveness."

Seras was determined to keep hating the church girl despite her gracious tone.

The Count chuckled. "I am sure she will forgive you quite readily."

Seras stuck out her tongue while his face was turned.

"Then pray, would you properly introduce us right this moment?"

"But of course, my dear lady, for I have been wishing to do just that for quite some time. This is my ward, Seras Victoria."

The church girl looked startled. "This is your ward?!" she exclaimed

"Indeed, my lady," the Count smirked.

The church girl looked at Seras with very deep shock.

"I..." she attempted to compose herself, "I did not expect her to be this lovely."

"This is quite surprising, my lady, for her beauty does proceed her."

Seras looked at him in shock. It does?

"Yes, but I have often heard her described as a child. A very charming and beautiful child, but a child nonetheless. I quite expected to find a twelve-year-old."

"Indeed, you would hear such reports, my lady."

Seras looked at him in hurt and betrayal. How could he say that about her?!

"And yet, she is very much a young lady," the church girl said as diplomatically as she could.

"I should hardly call her such, my lady," the Count said with utmost graciousness. "She is not of any noble heritage that I know of, but it matters very little, for it does not dampen her good character in the slightest; nor her pure heart, her gracious manners, nor her sweet disposition. She would be the same whether she was of common or royal heritage, but as she refuses to disclose such information, she might as well be the little foundling she presents herself as. With no noble family or connections, there is nothing to lend her to the title of 'lady.' As for becoming a noble lady of high society, she shall not be presented, for her ignorance of your ways lend her to a great disadvantage, and the prejudice she would face against her from your society would assure that she will never thrive."

"Pray, what do you mean?"

"Of all the charming young women I have come across in my lifetime, she has the purest heart and the sweetest character of any I have had the pleasure of encountering," the Count said, and looked at Seras with unparalleled fondness. "But you reside in a very phonocentric society. You British high-borns believe that people's characters and intelligence comes with their ability to speak their thoughts and opinions out loud. Since she is dumb, and cannot speak with her voice, you believe that she has little intelligence, opinions, or social graces to speak of. You hear her speak out loud, you think she is little more than a child or a small animal. And you treat her as such."

While Seras appreciated his words, she could not ignore the nagging feeling that he was not as guiltless as he pretended to be.

"Since this 'Social Season' of High Society London is about acquiring as many charming dinner guests to converse with, which my ward has as little interest in obtaining as she has ability to speak with, and seeking a husband or wife in this famous marriage market, which my ward shall find no suitable match in since your high society gentlemen see a mute girl not as a potential wife, but something lesser, my ward shall not be formally introduced into society."

"More's the pity," the church girl said.

Seras wondered what she could mean, but Walter then entered the room to announce that dinner was served.

Seras sat to the left of the Count during dinner, while he sat at the head of the table as the host. But since he busied himself playing the role of the charming host by making small talk with everyone sitting nearby, Seras had no one to engage with and so fell to staring at her food. The people around her talked of trivial things, and none them ventured to address her directly. It was a very boring and lonely experience.

After dinner, the men retired into one parlor to smoke and chat. Since her master went with them, Seras was left with all these strange women that she barely knew. Feeling no desire to listen to them, Seras gave up and went back upstairs, not caring that it was poor manners. She did not even wait for the servants to help her undress. With her leg hurting, she went to bed.


The first week of Seras' life out in London was very trying. Simply moving from the small, dark, warm, and musty flat into the bright, cold, windy, wide London streets was trying enough, but she had never been used to large city life. The noise, the hurry, the crowds of horses, carts, and carriages that she had to make her way through whenever they went to travel during the daylight hours, made her feel anxious and harassed. Over time, she realized she and her master were not moving back to the country, and then she made herself easy and got used to it.]

If only she could get used to the smog and the cough. Seras hated the big city air, the factory emissions, the thick wet London fog. She missed the beautiful castle by the sea, with its delicious salty sea air, the wind blowing in her face, and the open fields and forests all around. She missed the sweet-smelling wood that she and her master used to ride through, the flowers in the castle garden and courtyard, and the smell of fresh grass out on her master's lawn.

Seras' curiosity of being in a human city was satisfied, and now she found she did not really like it. The excursion was interesting when she was in the city for only an afternoon, like when she went with her master into town, or even a few days to see and enjoy many things. After a week of this, Seras found the city had long worn out it's charm, and she was ready to go back to the country.

Seras recovered from the last of her broken leg over the next two to three weeks. Walter said that this was after about five to six weeks of being laid out in bed after they arrived in London. Around two months, by his estimate; and Seras had been around eight months before that. He was only saying that, of course, because the anniversary of when they found her was coming up. Seras' eyes widened when he told her so.

"It's hard to believe you've been with us for almost year, Miss Victoria," he said.

'Has it really been that long?' Seras thought, and turned her head away. Time just flew.

She supposed it should not have been too surprising. The months just sailed by when she first arrived on land, as she had had such a wonderful time getting aquainted with human culture; of learning of the human world, and of living beside her beloved Count. Of course, Seras' heart took a sad turn at the thought. Time had gone by so quickly when they lived in that beautiful castle by the sea, then came to a grinding halt when they came to London. Now she looked back and cursed the time. Months and months whipping through her hair as it did when she rode her horse, until the day her Old Grey died and her leg broke and they came to this horrible place. Months and months of trying to win the Count, only for him to turn away to pursue some church hussy the second she inclined her head. Months and months of joy carelessly tossed out the window like a handful of papers in the wind.

It was all very depressing for Seras, who was still in a bad place and often stretched lethargically in bed or on the windowsill, lost to the world.

It seemed pointless to think about time. She always thought so. She had always let the days wash over her like the waves over a rock, not caring to count the crashes of waves, the sways of the time, the changing of the days days, nor even moons. She found it as pointless as counting the tide every time it swayed. Most mermaids did. They waited with baited breath to turn fifteen, then time faded for the next three hundred or so years of their lives. Then again, Seras was poor with time even by mermaid standards. She had not even known when her own birthday was. Harkonnen had to tell her that it was to be the next day when she thought it was several.

Presently, Seras looked forlornly out the window, sadly reminiscing about when she first saw the Count. It seemed like an eternity ago that she had turned fifteen and thought herself such a grownup girl, joyfully darting for the surface for the first time. How giddily she had risen to the surface, feeling as light as a bubble. How she had raced for the surface and taken her first lungful of air, as fresh as the first breath of life. How she had seen the beautiful armada, with their great ships. How she had seen the dazzling fireworks, and from their light how she had seen him from the bulwarks of his ship, and felt the buried light in her soul come out like the sun from heavy storm clouds.

She had been fifteen... she had felt so grown up at the time, but now she looked back and felt herself just a child.

So much had changed since then. So much had happened.

She turned her head from the window to listen half-heartedly as the servants gossiped. All these humans seemed to know so much about the world; they knew their ways, their customs, and their manners far better than she could. All these months she had studied and trained tirelessly on the ways of humans, and she realized presently that she still knew so little of it compared to them. She still felt helpless and dependent without them to show her the proper way to stand, to sit, to bow, to eat. They all seemed to know so much, and she knew so little. She was thought a little savage in the Sea King's palace, and she was thought a little savage here. Seras realized with a pang that she had never truly belonged anywhere. She had been a wretched little stray in the sea, and little more than a pet here on land, as sure as some lady's lap cat or her master's hunting dogs.

It was enough to make her want to cry.

Over time, Seras became invited out to more and more events. She ate breakfast with her master again, except when he got invited out to some gathering or other. Thankfully Londoners tended to eat dinner at home, she came to find, so she got to have at least that with him. She also attended tea and dinner, at least when they had guests over. More often than not though, her master ate out.

How busy London nobles were. Seras came to find that wealthy people slept in till late, since they usually stayed up very late at a ball or dinner party till 3 o'clock AM the night before. Certainly, breakfast didn't start in her master's household until 10 o'clock AM, which was fine with Seras because she didn't like getting up too early. Her servants didn't like it any better. While they themselves were up as early as four in the morning to get the house up and running for when their master and little foundling woke up (preparing breakfast, stoking the fires, going to market, and so on), dragging her out of bed was as easy as dragging a dead body. It was never fun for them to find her in the morning sprawled out on her stomach, with her face pressed into one of her countless throw pillows with all the rest piled on top of her, and try to pull her up by her arm only for her go limp as a rag doll, flop back down like one, and keep sleeping. She could flop as many as five or six times, each one in even more of a haphazardous position than the last, and sometimes fall to the floor with a muffled THUMP! and stay there. One servant finally had enough one day and draped a blanket over her on the floor and went out to complete her chores.

Now that Seras' leg was healed though, she was glad to finally be out of bed and wandering the house, which she now realized was not a very large house at all. It was a "flat," a small apartment in a big city. While she could pass over a dozen rooms in the castle before coming back to the one she started in and still feel hopelessly lost, in this flat she only passed about four or five rooms before coming back to the one she started in. They had only one staircase that went down to the kitchen, dining room, and drawing rooms, and that was it. Her master and her bedrooms and wash rooms were upstairs.

The flat was small, but nicely decorated. While the castle had been Gothic and gloomy, this one was much more homey. The paint on the flat walls were a lot more cheery than the grey stone walls, there were windows with white and beige lace curtains in every room, and the stuff humans used to decorate their homes were of gold and chrystal. It was not quite as old, melancholic, and dignified as her master's Gothic castle (in fact, it did not seem to suit him at all), but she liked.

However, not too long after Seras recovered fully, she started going out into society with her master. By the second week, part of her wished she still had a broken leg so she could stay in their charming little flat. Now that they spent the majority of each afternoon "calling on" other nobles, attending teas, luncheons, plays, operas, and dinner parties, and being called on in return to host teas, luncheons, and other functions in return, she could see why her master hated it.

Didn't rich people ever get tired of meeting each other?

There was always somewhere to go, or something to do. Someone was always throwing some meal or party or social gathering and asking people to come, and her master was always obliged to come. Everyone smiled and simpered and made pleasantries over the most trivial things; discussing the weather or what they had to wear or who they had seen in what function. By God (as many of the men would exclaim), these people talked more about the people they had seen at other events than they talked to the people they were seeing right now at this current function. Not that they ever had anything interesting to say, anyway; it was always about clothes, jewelry, or charity with the women, and "business," "investments," "races," or other even more incomprehensible stuff with the men.

Seras always felt bored stupid at social events. All people did was talk, and since she couldn't talk, she had nothing to do. Since she was not interested in anything that anyone had to say, she had nothing to listen to. She often pouted or sulked with her head resting in her hand, with her elbow resting on her knee, daydreaming of better times.

Her master was always a charming guest or gracious host at social parties, but Seras quickly learned better than anyone how false it was. Almost as soon as guests were out of sight, his smile would drop and his lips would curl into a most hateful scowl or a mocking sneer. As soon as they were out of earshot, he would go off to Seras how perfectly droll, dull, boring, stuffy, overbearing, boorish, pompous, or incompetent so-and-so was. It was not all bad though. Often, in the middle of social events, his eyes would find Seras' (whether she was across the room or seated beside him at the table), give one of his little smirks, and make subtle faces or gesture with his head toward some insufferable person to whom he had just been speaking as soon as they looked away. Often, Seras would also smile or make faces right back, to let him know she understood or shared his opinion.

It became something of a private joke for them, to silently commiserate with each other over how ridiculous they felt London's society to be.

It made Seras feel giddy to be sharing in this little secret, and also a little proud that she was helping her master cope with such insufferable parties.

It also made her confused as to why her master insisted on torturing himself this way.

"Why, to pursue my little church girl, of course," he answered as they rode a carriage home from a party one night.

Seras' heart sank, and she lowered her journal.

That blasted church girl. Seras' insides still writhed with jealousy, and she couldn't stand knowing that they were going out and about, enduring all this torturous socializing, just to pursue that girl. She wasn't even in half the parties and gatherings they went to, but the times she was she was always engrossed in some conversation with another group of ladies or gentlemen, rarely gracing the count with a casual glance, let alone a cordial nod. Never mind a civil greeting!

Seras hated the girl; she could not understand why they were going to so much trouble to woo her, when Seras herself was right here and so sick in love with the count she could barely stand it, and he didn't even notice her smiles or loving devotion

Worst yet, because they had spent so much time pursuing the church girl, they inevitably encountered her father and grandfather, the latter of whom always made Seras uneasy.

He came to talk to her one day when Seras sat alone at a little round tea table at a tea party; one with yellow cloth and white lace doilies. She overheard the hostess of the party brag that the tea cups had "hand-painted" flower designs in them and gold edges from so-and-so, but Seras thought that hardly mattered since all tea cups looked like that. And Seras hated tea from drinking it three times a day during the two months she was down with a broken leg. If her corset wasn't strung so tight, she would have slouched against the table and stared closely at the bouquet of flowers as she did at home. Since she couldn't, she sat up straight with her hands in her lap and her head down, as usual.

As if the gathering could not get enjoyable enough, the church girl's father soon joined her at the table. Seras instinctively flinched.

"None, none, dear child," he said, "There is no need for that. You have no fear of me. I mean you no harm."

'You are her grandfather,' Seras thought venomously, 'And you say such nasty things of my count. I want nothing to do with you!'

But she felt too shy and timid to get up, since the entire room was filled with people she didn't know. She used to get up and walk wherever she pleased without caring what others thought, but being reprimanded and whispered about for her poor manners often enough wore away at even Seras' sensibilities. She didn't want to get up if just not to hear people react to her.

"Please, little girl, I wish you no harm but to ask how you fare this gathering? Are you happy?

What strange questions! What did he care?

But Seras had no one else to talk to, so she got out her journal and answered his strange questions as best she could.

"Ah, gut, gut," he said.

There was something suspicious about the way he asked questions. They were friendly and cordial enough, but they were also very simple and trivial in nature. ("Do you enjoy attend parties with count?" "Are you happy in London?") The great emphasis he placed on seemingly meaningless questions made her suspicious, and also as though he were leading up to an unpleasant topic.

"Tell me, dear child, how does Count treat you?"

Seras frowned. "What do you mean?" she wrote.

"Ah, not to alarm you, not to alarm. I simply ask to know, is he good to you? He has not been... untoward?"

Seras pointed again at "What do you mean?"

"Has he not..." the old doctor placed his large, warm hands over hers. Seras flinched, and shrunk under his gaze. His grip was like a vice, and both his hands and eyes burned with suppressed fire. "How he treat you, child? As a wife? As a way only man treat his wife? He not... touch you in way only man touch his wife?"

Seras' heart sank. She could only wish. She would love to be treated as a wife; someone precious and beloved. She thought of those few times over the many months she knew him when he caressed her cheek with his large hand, but it was always with his gloves on, and his hand always felt cold.

With a heavy heart, Seras took out her journal and wrote, "No, the count only treats me like a child."

"Ah, I see," the doctor paused.

He looked as though he were about to say something else, when his son joined them.

"Ah, cozying up to the little ward, eh, old sport?"

Another good thing came of the gatherings though. Seras learned what her master's history with London and the van Helsing family's grudge against him.

Through eavesdropping on various conversations over the next few weeks (Walter, the maids, house guests, party guests, and even the van Helsin gentlemen themselves), Seras learned that Count Dracula had been born and raised in Transylvania-some land far east from here. (Considered backwards, superstitious, and melancholic compared to jolly old England. Seras privately thought "No wonder Master looks so dark and mysterious, and loves to surround himself with dark and mysterious things... to be from a country like that!") He had lived there as one of the highest forms of aristocracy from one of the oldest, proudest, and wealthiest families, until years before when he grew bored of his privileged upbringing and decided to move to London.

'But why?!" Seras wrote in her journal to Walter.

"Why?" Walter asked, "Why did Caesar conquer all lands beyond Rome? Because there was no challenge otherwise."

Seras didn't even know who Caesar was!

Though her master had studied England's language, history, culture, geography, laws, and so forth extensively, he still did not feel confident enough to mingle among London's "teeming millions." He felt his accent and mannerisms would give him away as a "funny foreigner," and so he enlisted the help of a solicitor who came to help him go over the final paperwork. When Jonathan Harker agreed to stay longer than planned to help tutor the Count in English and local London customs and geography, the Count eventually happened to spy a picture of his fiance, Wilhelmina Murray. The Count fell in love with her almost from first sight, and asked questions about her. Since Jonathan Harker loved her immensely, he could not help praising her highly. This turned out not to be a wise move, as the Count eventually fell in love with her description as well as her face, and felt that he had known her for years.

The Count soon acted on his feelings when he left early, without giving any warning to Mr. Harker, and sailed to England to pursue the woman he desired.

It is said that Jonathan fell very ill from some blood fever shortly after the count departed, and languished in the country for some time after. With a sizable headstart and a significant delay from Mr. Harker, the count had plenty of time to cause mischief in London. He had bought a modest mansion (the two words seemed an oxymoron to Seras) just outside of London, and chose to try to blend into the high society London crowds (again, an oxymoron to Seras), and it was from these crowds that he tried to get to Mina.

But she was in no place to entertain an ardent admirer. In the first place, she was engaged to be married and a working schoolteacher, and so she had no incentive to circulate the high society social circles that the count would. In the second place, she was middle class. While her fiance Jonathan was slightly higher in social class than her, they were not yet married, and so she had not yet fully integrated into his circle. Finally, she did not have time to entertain such visitors as she had gone on a lengthy visit with her wealthy friend Lucy Westenra, who had soon fallen ill with a mysterious ailment that had left her weak, lethargic, and anemiac.

Eventually, one of Lucy's admirers, an asylum doctor named Jack Seward, called his old friend and mentor Dr. Abraham van Helsing from Amsterdam ("So THAT'S how he fits into all this!" thought Seras) to come and examine Lucy. After a long and thorough examination, and many tests, the Dr. van Helsing found that Lucy's mysterious ailment was not so mysterious after all: she was with child. The Count's child.

Seras spat out her drink and bolted upright when she heard.

"They say the shock of the discovery killed Lucy's aging widow mother," one of the servants said to another very matter-of-factly.

Evidently the count had bought a house next door and had run with the same social circles as and called on Lucy Westenra quite a bit in his desire to get to Mina, and had seduced her on the side.

While Mina, Dr. Seward and Dr. van Helsing tried to keep her condition quiet, somehow word got out and Lucy's reputation was ruined. She was a young woman who was with child out of wedlock. For the exceedingly prudish, moralistic society that was Queen Victoria's London, this was absolutely unacceptable for a young woman; especially a wealthy young girl with as good of breeding and from as good a family as young Lucy. Word about her soon changed from a sweet, innocent, pure, yet playful and vivacious little girl to a wanton, lustful, lethargic... thing (or "bloofer lady") that stalked the streets at night soliciting perfectly innocent men who loved her but were tricked and deceived. Suddenly people said she had received three marriage proposals in one day (from the visiting American Quincy Morris, the respectable Dr. Jack Seward, and wealthy Arthur Holmwood) not because she was a perfectly lovely girl who was worthy of such affection, but because she was a wanton coquette who had lured such innocent men into a honeyed trap.

For all intents and purposes, Lucy was dead to London society.

Seras felt saddened and vaguely disgusted by such things. Lucy was the same girl that she had been before; how could people's opinions of her change so much based on one little thing? If anything, it was the gemtle man's fault...

Seras' mind shut like a trap at such a thought. She couldn't think of that now. She could not blame the Count.

At any rate, everyone had expected Lucy's fiance Arthur Holmwood to reject her after such a revelation, but to his credit he stood by Lucy. He still loved her and cared for her deeply, and resisted social pressure (particularly from Abraham van Helsing, who encouraged him to "strike the hammer against the stake into the heart of his affection," so to speak) to end his engagement to her. This was especially difficult because his father had recently died. (Many gossipers said that the shock of learning of his son's fiance's infidelity and Arthur's decision to remain with him drove him into an early grave, just as they say the shame of having such a daughter befell Lucy's mother.) With his father's death, Arthur was named Lord Godalming, and marriage to a young lady who was having another man's child out of wedlock was completely unacceptable.

To their credit though, Arthur's friends stood by him despite his decision to remain engaged to Lucy, although they had to do something to save her reputation if they were to save his.

In order to restore Lucy's reputation, Abraham van Helsing, Jack Seward, Quincy Morris, and the new Lord Godalming had to destroy the reputation of the gentleman who had put her into such a delicate disposition. Since Count Dracula was a foreigner who had not made any especially strong ties in London (in his desire to fit in), they chose to play this up to tear him down. Wilhelmina, Jack Seward, Lord Godalming, and Dr. van Helsing soon spread rumors of and painted him as a lowly, creeping, vile monster that stalked innocent young women, seduced and forced himself onto unsuspecting maidens like the poor, tragic Lucy, and so on and so forth.

With the return of Jonathan Harker from Transylvania to "verify" such accounts of his character, and the respectable (and recently married) former school mistress Wilhelmina Harker to testify not only on behalf of her best friend's good character, but to impart all of the intimate secrets and ardent affection the Count had imparted on her when he had known her to be engaged, the Count's good standing in the city was soon destroyed. In the public's eye he was reduced to a small, hairy, contemptible, degenerate monster, and he was driven out accordingly; and the newly married Harkers, Lucy's suitors, and Dr. van Helsing all but led the monster hunt against him.

And so, did the count give up his pursuit of Wilhelmina Murray after she rejected him and helped lead the charge against him? God no! He never wanted her more. His desire for her only seemed to increase with her hatred of him, and he soon gathered his wealth and raised an armada to return to her, to shower her with an even flashier display of wealth, power, goods, and luxuries than she had ever seen in her life, in an attempt to buy her love.

"Oui, that's what we were there for when the storm hit," Captain Bernadotte said, as he lit a cigarette and exhaled. "He had hired us as a crew to man the armada and sail the ships to London, as a grand gesture to win her hand. It sounded foolish at the time, but eh... we'd had worse jobs."

Seras' eyes slowly widened as she realized that that was what he had been doing when she had first set eyes on him, as an innocent fifteen-year-old mermaid.

When she had emerged from the ocean for the first time, timidly approached the looming ships, marveled at the bright and booming fireworks, climbed the bulwarks with her naked arms and her wet tail, and gazed upon the Count for the first time with wide, innocent, unclouded eyes... he had assembled the ships and lit the fireworks display to pursue the woman he loved. A woman who had been engaged and recently married to anther man, who had hated and rejected him, and who helped drive him out of England.

"That was when his ships got caught in the storm," an elderly woman said.

Evidently, Seras had surfaced close to London and the armada had set off such a brilliant fireworks display to dazzle those on shore, as a way to seduce Mina when she learned what it was for, but Triton's anger below had set off a terrible storm that hit fast and hard, and that had sunk at least one ship. As people told of the storm Seras felt secretly proud that she had been there, and knew details that they didn't. She had seen the waves wash over the deck, seen the wind blow the ship over, and had seen the lightning strike the mast. She had dived into the debris of the shattered wood and helped sailors find the surface, and had saved the count when he was nearly impaled by a splintered mast, and it was she who had held his pale face above water and carried his body to shore.

The way the humans told it, a storm had simply hit (or been divine retribution from God, some of the elderly ladies said self-righteously) and sunk a few of his ships, including the main ship that he had been in, and most had assumed he had died. By some miracle from God, he had instead washed up on some distant beach, on the shore of a private Catholic school for girls, and had been found by none other than Dr. Abraham van Helsing's granddaughter!

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," one elderly woman said knowingly to a younger woman.

Rumor had it that the count had forgotten his love for Mina (who had held his attention for so long) the moment he laid eyes on Lady Integra.

Seras' heart sank like a stone in the ocean when she remembered how his eyes had alighted and his lips had turned up into a smile when he first gazed upon the church girl who found him on the beach. She remembered with acute pain (like a laceration in her heart), how his lips had curled into a playful smirk and how his hand had enclosed around the church girl's when she had tried to pull away to bring help. She remembered, through a blurry veil of tears, how he had eagerly followed the church girl up to the church, ignoring the gaggle of nuns and school girls, having eyes only for her.

Seras wrapped her arms around her legs and pressed her back against a dark corner of her room, racked with sobs so strong she felt they would break her in half like storm waves break open a ship. She sobbed and sobbed, and cried and would have wailed had she had a voice to scream. So it was true! It was true! It was all true! All the time! He had loved her at first sight! He had always loved the church girl!

Seras remembered when she had first seen them together from beneath the foam on the waves. She had been hurt, but told herself it was nothing but a passing fancy; a rush of gratitude to be alive. Since the church girl did not seem to return his affection in the slightest, she had told herself that she would reject him, and he would eventually move on. 'But she didn't!' Seras thought with agony. 'She didn't! She didn't! Oh, why didn't she do it?'

Seras went on to learn that the Count had made the girl his new object of his desire, and had worked tirelessly to win her heart forever more. They said that he learned later that she was Abraham van Helsing's granddaughter (oh, the irony), but was non-perturbed to discover it. He claimed that love is love, and that once you have met such a woman that turns your world in such a way, who she is and what her relation is matters little. From that moment on, he had worked tirelessly to re-integrate himself back into London society; to gain back the good favor that he had lost, to re-introduce himself into the social circles her family ran in, to prove himself to be a proper husband to those who would object.

They said he wrote to her often in the monastery, although she never answered him once; (indeed, they say many of her teachers eventually burned and tore up the letters). They said he worked slowly in regaining his welcome in England, where her family now lived. He had started by buying an old, abandoned Gothic castle by the sea (the castle that he and Seras had been living in for months, she realized!), and had slowly but sure wheedled his way into the good graces of the gruffer country nobility who cared little for the hub-ub of London society's gossip. (Seras remembered those horrible noble guests with a stab of disgust; that horrible hunting party with those horrible fat lords who cared little for animals or servants.)

Seras was dismayed to learn that all along, from the moment she started trying to woo him, he had been trying to woo another. The Gothic castle she had looked up at from the sea, to watch him gazing at the moon and sip wine from the balcony? He had bought to pursue the church girl. The months they had spent dining and strolling and riding drinking and reading together? All a pleasant diversion to him while he recovered from making contacts to pursue the church girl. Those horrible nobles he had at his castle, whom he said were easier to tolerate with her there? He only had them there because he was hoping to get on their good graces to get into the good graces of the church girl. Their horrible trip to London? All just to pursue the church girl in person! And now it was working!

Seras was racked with so much pain she felt she would crack in two, or fall to pieces on the ground filled with bloody lacerations. It hurt so much she felt she couldn't move; couldn't breathe. It hurt! It hurt so much!

'Why does he love them, but he doesn't love me?!' she thought with despair.

He had seen only a photo of Mina and had traveled halfway around the world, bought a townhouse in London, ingratiated himself into her circles and done all in his power to be with her. When all hope of reclaiming her was dashed in a storm, he had taken one look at a beautiful young maiden on the beach and had resolved to, again, rebuild everything his pursuit of Mina had destroyed to win her heart.

He had seen Seras on the beach (she remembered still, clear as day), and had seemed pleased to meet her... But he did not care about her. He did not move mountains for her, he did not travel half across the world, he did not even take the time to see if she was happy on most events. He did not care for her as he had cared for them. He had seen them once and would do anything to win their hearts, yet he had been with Seras for months and did not care for her a little. What was wrong with her? What had she done wrong?

Seras cried and cried herself to sleep.