About the second drabble, it's shown in both the OVA and the manga (not sure about the anime yet) that Richard had never seen or heard of Alucard before, as in the manga, when he resurrects and one of Richard's guards asks what the hell he is, Richard states that he has no idea, and that his brother never mentioned a word about it. Since the age difference between them is unknown (Arthur is shown to have white hair in the OVA, and Richard's still has color), it is theoretically possible that Alucard was sealed in the basement before Richard was even born, or at least when he was very, very young. Since Hellsing seems to have a "need to know" policy where you truly NEED to know before they tell you anything about vampires, Arthur and whatever staff did know about Alucard didn't mention it to Richard, since they had Arthur as an heir already. That, or Arthur knew he wasn't 100% trustworthy, and kept all mention of the vampire away from him, so he merely saw Hellsing as a sort of governmental agency. Given how Richard turned out, that was probably a wise precaution on Arthur's part. Anyway, I took the liberty of removing that bit of history, so Richard does know about Alucard in the second drabble.
Prompt: Origami.
"Back already, vampire?"
Sir Arthur Hellsing sat primly upright, his suit crisply pressed, his eyes clear, his hair more or less slicked back, and his desk utterly neat.
The two strands of hair that always stuck out like devilish horns, no matter how much gel was used, were a private hilarity to the Hellsing family's servant. It amused him that his fanatically neat and domineering master could not tame his own hair, nor bend it to his whim.
He nodded quietly and held out something in one cotton-gloved hand.
Arthur's brow furrowed and he picked up the small black object, oblivious to the vampire's hidden grin.
"What is this?"
Alucard allowed the smirk to show through.
"A bat. An origami bat."
Sir Arthur twisted the folded paper wonderingly, frowning ever so slightly.
"Is this some strange custom you picked up from the Japs?"
"You sent me over to learn their culture, my master."
Arthur set the bat down, frowning heavily at his servant.
"I sent you to spy on them, which is a damned foolish bloody mission for Irons to have sent you on."
Alucard grinned at the hint of a grumble in his master's tone.
"So possessive of me already?"
Arthur aimed a deadly glare at his servant.
"More like cautious. I know what happens when you get bored or feel jilted. People die."
"People will die whether I am bored or not. War is coming."
Arthur sighed ponderously and spun his chair in a circle.
"War, war, war. That's all anyone talks about nowadays."
Alucard picked the bat up from the desk.
"They have reason to. Did you know the customs pertaining to some kinds of origami, Master?"
Arthur eyed the vampire suspiciously.
He had reason to, after all. Alucard never just mentioned something for the sake of mentioning it.
"No, I don't. I assume it's something pertinent to either the war or any one of my numerous problems?"
The vampire chuckled openly at his master's resigned tone.
"A bit of both, in actuality. In Japan, it's a custom to fold 1,000 paper cranes, which will give you a wish, or good luck."
Arthur sighed resignedly, resting his cheek on his hand.
"And you thought a bat was more proper for the head of Hellsing than a crane?"
Alucard calmly placed the bat on his master's desk and turned away, still chuckling.
He paused at the door, turning his head slightly so his master could see the carefully cultivated smirk of half mockery, half amusement.
"The rest of them are on your writing desk. The Japanese find that the luck works best when the cranes are hung."
He turned, and with a swish of his duster, left.
"Good luck, Master."
Arthur sighed and picked up the bat, twirling it between his fingers.
"Bloody twit. Where the hell am I going to hang these?"
Prompt: Hallucination.
Richard Hellsing scowled at the bolted, locked, and sealed door.
Damn vampire.
If only he had Alucard, this whole place would bow to him and nobody else, especially that whoring Arthur.
What had father been thinking?!
Richard had been the obvious choice!
Not Sir Damn-his-eyes Arthur Hellsing!
It was completely and utterly unfair!
Richard was solid, upstanding, dependable!
Arthur was liable to jump in bed with anything that had legs, and drank to boot!
He slammed his fist against the solid steel door, swearing to himself.
He needed Alucard.
But he couldn't get to him.
He felt a vein throb in his forehead, and forcibly relaxed himself.
The nurses had already been giving him warnings about his blood pressure.
Who?
Richard jumped.
A…voice?
He glanced around, then looked at the door again warily.
He cautiously approached it, then laid his hands on the flat metal once more, closing his eyes.
He could almost taste the creature's power from here.
"Alucard?"
You are…a Hellsing.
He gritted his teeth.
Doubting, they always doubted when they saw him.
What did Arthur have that he didn't, that marked him as a Hellsing on sight!
"Yes! Yes I am! I am your master!"
I serve no master.
"You serve the Hellsings! You serve me! I am your master!"
He slammed his hand on the door as he spoke, and hissed as he cut himself on a jagged edge.
Blood spilled over his palm as he gripped his wrist, cascading on the floor, far too much for such a minor cut.
He stared at the crimson tide with a mixture of horror and fascination, watching the pool spread and envelop his feet.
I serve no master. I serve no Hellsing.
His mouth gaped open as a face, grotesque and twisted, formed in the bloody tide, and arched up, a column of sticky red towering over him.
It writhed, twisted, became a hunched, cloaked figure.
He felt hands made of blood clutch his throat.
I serve no master. I serve no Hellsing.
He clawed at the hands, gasping.
"Wh…what are you?"
The thing's hands tightened.
I am you, your corruption, your life.
It swayed closer.
Your blood.
Richard's eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright in his bed, breathing hard.
His eyes searched the corners of the room.
Nothing.
Not even a stray shadow.
He rubbed at his throat, remembering the incredibly lifelike grip, and winced at a sting on his palm.
With a shaking hand, he turned on his bedside lamp.
On his right hand was a gash, trickling blood.
Down in the basement, a corpse, confined in mummy-like wrappings, shifted just barely.
A smirk formed on weathered, dry lips.
You will never command me.
Prompt: Puppet show.
Abraham van Hellsing awoke to a ghoul staring him in the face.
"BLOODY HELL!"
He recognized the rotted, dead features; it was one of the housemaids, the slutty one.
The ghoul lunged for him and he groped for the pistol under his mattress, firing just in time.
The corpse collapsed to ash, and he swore and beat his nightgown, clouds of the foul ash flitting around his room.
Getting up and stumping across the roof to grab his sword and three other pistols, he paused, hearing moans in the floors below.
His mind flashed to the only conclusion possible; Dracula.
But how had the monster disobeyed his orders?!
Dracula's bonds were far from set in stone, as van Hellsing wished them to be, but the very first thing he had made sure of was the fact the vampire was not allowed to harm any humans.
The exact wording had been-
The conclusion leapt upon him like the ghoul, and he swore under his breath.
"You are not allowed to speak to, fraternize, or touch any of the household staff, nor any humans who enter the premises, except by my direct order. You are not allowed to influence their minds, nor their dreams, and you are not allowed to fulfil their fantasies."
He had included nothing about what the vampire was to do if one of the humans actually had the audacity and idiocy to approach him, without coercion on his part.
The maid he had just killed was infamous amongst the staff for her casual sexual relations and insatiable appetite; it wouldn't have taken much on Dracula's part to coerce her, even if he had been able.
She had probably offered herself to the bloody beast out of some foolish feminine sense of pity.
From there, it would be simple enough.
All he had to do was bite her carefully enough that she wouldn't notice, and then set her amongst the household staff.
It wouldn't have been any of his fault, had the ghouls managed to kill his master.
And thus, the beast would've been free again.
Abraham loaded the pistols, loosened his sword in its sheath, and stumped out the door.
Not tonight, you bloody beast. Not tonight.
He stopped at the head of the stairs to the ground floor, filling his lungs.
"DRACULA!"
His furious bellow rang throughout the house, sending dust drifting down from the rafters and causing the assembled ghouls of his former household to start limping towards his position, moans echoing around the house.
He hoped the sound of his rage sent the beast cowering in his cell.
It knew what happened to it when Master was this angry.
As the first few shambling corpses tottered around the corner, he pulled the pistol out and began firing, ignoring the pain in his rheumatic leg.
Slowly, he descended the stairs, spent casings littering the freshly-sawn boards along with several inches of ghoul dust.
He finally made it to the ground floor, and just as slowly, he began walking towards the door to the basement.
A half-hour later, he stood above the huddled corpse of Dracula himself, bound in layer after layer of blessed, enchanted, and alchemically enhanced restraints, chains and leather straps alike.
The beast was near mindless with fear, its red eyes dilated to the point the pupil was nearly gone, and a low, feral, snarling whine echoed around the cell as it pressed close to the ground.
He raised the silver crop he had installed in the cell and began beating his captive furiously, ignoring its agonized howls.
"NEVER! YOU ARE NEVER TO BITE ANOTHER HUMAN AGAIN, NOT UNLESS THEY OFFER THEMSELVES TO YOU FIRST, AND SPECIFICALLY WITH THAT INTENTION! DO YOU HEAR ME VAMPIRE?! NOT EVER!"