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The Green Lady	By : RaggedyNib Category: Hellsing > Het - Male/Female Views: 6457 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing. I make no money from writing this story!

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Hellsing! It's all Kouta Hirano!

The Muse continues to harass me, spurring me on to write the next installment of 'The Green Lady'. Nomenclature of the title involved, the historical ghost that I based the title off of is said to be 'both beautiful and protective, or a blood-sucking demon' to put it bluntly.

When I was touring Great Britain and France this summer, I came upon this local Gaelic legend on one of the excursions into the Scottish countryside. Since then, I've been searching for a character to apply the persona to along with many other tales heard on that memorable trip.

Seras does strike me as an embodiment of this strange creature, neither ghost nor human but caught in the state of the undead. Blood sucking she may be, Seras's resolve to hold on to a gentler nature has characterized her throughout the TV series, OVA, and the manga.

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Chapter 1 – The Childe

I can't believe this, Seras snarled inside. The dark, twisting presence she came to acknowledge as her baser, vampiric side was infuriated by the dominance of her master was exerting lately.

His summons had been a whim mostly done out of boredom, he explained. His appointment to the throne of a true king had happened similarly along those lines if she recalled correctly. Every day was a test of her patience, another ploy to send her off the edge begging for release from servitude. The reasons for his withdrawal of the new Provost from the delicate peace-talks she was trying to conduct in Rome were purely meant to antagonize the Vatican.

Master truly is going batty, she thought with dismay as the centuries old vampire grinned at her with the enthusiasm of a young schoolboy. Seras didn't quite notice at first when he was first slipping from his usually reserved demeanor months ago.

Then the odd mood swings began to appear more frequently, coupled with the temper-flares he usually kept in check around his subjects and underlings. What really struck her was when he began to exert this new attitude on his Ministers and not just her. Since his outburst in the hotel in Rio all those years ago, she had become an emotional ragdoll for him to shake and fume at. In any human circumstances, most would cite it as abusive. Seras just labeled it as a convenient way for him to let off steam to another of his kind, not to mention a blood bound fledgling.

"You're going to break the beast, Police Girl." Alucard broke the silence, staring out the window into the courtyard where the groom still walked the gelding in a slow, continuous circle to cool him off from the laborious ride.

"He can take it," Seras quipped, "Quit treating the issue like you give a damn whether the horse lives or dies."

She knew she had struck a nerve with that one by the ripple that went through the lean, lanky form of her master's body. The one thing he did find fascinating about her growing personality were her attempts at matching him in these small fights. Alucard had bought the horses for his own amusement, but quickly tired of it as he always did while she continued to ride almost daily if her schedule allowed it.

Seras didn't know whether to peg his short-lived hobby as a nostalgic expenditure to gain back better remembrance of his human years or simply as a way to pass the time. She had taken up riding after the war with Millennium, favoring the long nights she spent on the solid backs of fine horses as she led them through the calm grounds of the Hellsing manor. Seras had continued the habit for nigh on thirty years until her master's return. After that, everything seemed to pass by in a hectic whirlwind.

Integra's health had finally deteriorated by 2057, passing quietly in her bed after she had reached her eightieth birthday. Alucard had been inconsolable, his rage translating as tears to Seras, his indignity towards Integra's refusal of his final offer of immortality a farce to hide the loneliness that struck him as soon as the knight breathed her last.

And so, here we are, bound together in the year 2067.

They caught each other's gaze, locking into one of their usual staring matches before she blinked, looking away from the imposing stance of her master.

Alucard reached out, the white gloved fingers catching onto a curling tendril of blonde hair. The piece must have escaped from the lacy snood she had caught most of the thick mass in, but the tickling tendril of inky black that she felt brush her ear earlier in the long squabble had her thinking otherwise.

The grim vampire gave the pale gold a tug, grinning as she frowned in irritation. She slapped his hand away, standing up as tall as her diminutive height allowed.

"You've gone and tossed nearly a week of negotiation efforts down the drain, master. Along with which was an allowance of leniency towards every devout Catholic in your country to not be excommunicated for deciding to stay."

Alucard shrugged, his hand reaching back up to tug the thin net of lace off the back of her head. She could've sworn she heard an almost imperceptible rumble from his chest as he watched the waving mass tumble to her waist, that same wandering hand reaching for the long bow gathering the ends of her hair together.

"It was their choice. If they want peace of mind, they can convert to the Orthodox Church," he hissed lowly, slicing through the thin ribbon to release her hair around her arms and waist. "Running this country has finally become an engaging project for you, Seras?"

He only used her given name to egg her on or address her in the most serious manner. In this case, it was the latter.

"It's not my fault they threw the rank back at you as soon as you showed up. You unloaded all the responsibilities onto me after you had your fun," she hissed back, baring her fangs. "We're in this arrangement until the country dissolves or you name a suitable successor, if you want to save face with the public. You may not care what they think of you, but whatever impression you left six centuries ago is still going strong here. You're their savior, master. If you dodge out now you'll regret it later."

Alucard drew her face close to bare his larger, thicker fangs back at the woman. "You should not forget who the master is and who plays the role of the servant, Police Girl. I could snap you like a twig."

The threat was an empty one.

Seras turned on her heel with a hiss, quickly dissipating into the dusty air without so much as a 'by your leave' to the infuriating monster.

What an ass!

She reappeared far up in the higher corridors, making her way tiredly to her apartments.

I should just ask for the blood and go, she thought dismally for the first time in years.

Yet, she could not leave. She felt pity for the monster that took the shape of a man. He was now more of a puzzle to the young provost than he was before the war. The outpouring of souls he had expelled from his body and the release Integra's death gave him had left the vampire simplified to his most basic elements. It was no killing machine or chained pet she lived with now, only Alucard.

"Provost Victoria!" shouted a servant, hurrying to her with a long list of provisions needed for the staff and tasks to be done for the week. Seras managed the household on her own along with the social affairs of the nation, occasionally coaxing Alucard out of the castle for some of the functions.

He came more often to play tricks on the fat matrons and pompous statesmen that littered the official balls and banquets other than to conduct business. After much begging from Seras he had lately reduced the side-splitting antics to an anonymous level so no one was the wiser as to who ripped the Chancellor of Austria's trousers down to expose a rather flamboyant pair of clinging red boxers with purple hearts straining across his massive buttocks last Saturday.

Seras held in a strangled laugh at the fond memory, remembering how hard it was to keep a straight face as the portly man was pantsed in front of most of the European elite.

The servant bowed repeatedly to the patient Lady, the young man blushing hotly at the resulting smile she turned his way before resuming her trek to the wide doors at the end of the hall.

Seras groaned in appreciation at the sight of the full bath, stripping out of the layers of clothing that smelled strongly of horse sweat before sinking into the steaming water. She made quick work of scrubbing the strong scent from her cold skin until the flesh felt vaguely warm from friction, a cheerful red tint coming back briefly as she washed the long hanks of her hair free from the dirt, brambles, and leaves it had picked up in her long ride.

She quickly toweled dry before dropping a gauzy night rail onto her curvy form, taking care to order every individual strand of her hair free of water. Supernatural follicles truly were her master's area of expertise, but she had made headway on mimicking the mysteries and movements he could create with her own hair. Over the years she had let the spikes of her youthful 'do soften to a wave, eventually lengthening it down past her elbows the day of Integra's burial.

It was only a short while to sunrise, but she was eager to make a little progress on the small bed-time project she had been engaging in over the past few weeks. She grabbed the soft cloth-wrapped bundle resting on her desk in the office, carrying it back into the soft haven of her bed to uncover it reverently.

It was a thick stack of ancient paper, curled and spotted with stains and age. The script was as old-age as the paper, for she often stumbled over the curling letters and mistook them for another character of completely different sound and meaning. Gradually, she had begun to work her way through the first five pages of the manuscript over the last month.

She would use the odd hour or half hour she spent before bed working through the thick packet, carefully transcribing the new entries to English-worded electronic script on the touch-screen she kept in her room.

Seras had managed to gain enough aptitude at the job to let her fingers fly over the blinking letters on the thin pane of glass, typing in the entry as her eyes scanned over the archaic but legible Latin. Every few minutes she would pause to look over her work on the lighted screen, scrolling down to digest the words.

Twenty years had passed since she started working through most major languages of the world for practicality, and Latin had been a small endeavor for the young Englishwoman to overcome, but overcome she did with a small bit of help from her master and a lot from books.

Uskub, Anno Domini 1453

Turks have begun a tactical assault on the Blockades of Constantinople by sea and land. Reports show that they number near one hundred Thousand in Infantry with more en route from the East. Infantry is held in a Crescent position and none have managed to break their Formation.

Word from contact shows that my Sibling is still in collaboration with Mehmed, the dishonorable Snake. He shames Our line with his Treachery. May he burn in Hell.

Glory to our House and may God help us hold the line against these motherless Barbarians.

D

The musty sheaf of papers had been trapped under a fallen timber in one of the tower rooms. She was clearing the room when she had noticed the yellowed pages crushed under the massive beam, heaving it off to dust and gently pick through the stack. Back then, she and her master had just moved into the dilapidated castle after his reinstatement as a king.

The young Draculina had sworn to renovate the place until it was at least livable again, but Alucard waved her efforts off as futile and very human. Her pride took a blow for the umpteenth time, so she set to the task with her usual determination. She had achieved it after half a year of hard labor and a day crew of renovation specialist she had hired to do the work while she retired for the day.

She tapped on the power button of her screen, clearing the application filled display to the see-through pane of thin glass once again.

Amazing advances we've made with computers, she wondered quietly to herself as she turned the paper-thin device around in her narrow hands.

She set the manuscript and touch pad aside before tapping a control or two on the console placed on her bed table, nodding in satisfaction as the heavy floor-to-ceiling drapes began to close against the dim light of dawn leaking through her windows. A loud click was heard from the doors to the hallway, signaling that all was well barricaded against any unwelcome visitors while she lay vulnerable in her death-like state.

The vampire lay down amidst the piles of feather pillows and cloud-like covers, closing her eyes as her ageless face relaxed into a peaceful pose of the untroubled.

Never did she notice the burning eyes that watched her body go still, never wavering from the petite form of his childe as he quietly phased through the thick wall. Alucard stepped quietly to the bedstead, drawing the thick curtains hung on the massive four-poster around the body of his fledgling.

He got one last look at the slight slant of her eyes and that stubborn mouth – now relaxed in the restful peace of the dead – before the thick fabric completely enshrouded her bed.

"Sleep well, pisicuţă."

Translations for Romanian Phrases:

Pisicuţă- kitten
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The Green Lady