The Burn of an Icy Flame | By : GoldAngelFish Category: Hellsing > General Views: 2619 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
~Hellsing and all related characters belong to Kohta Hirano.
Thou shalt not sue the muse.~
(Inspired by random thoughts while watching a moth. Why do
they always go to the flame that kills them?)
The air was very
cold.
It was just another cold night, and
the crackling of the fire in the library was a comforting sound. Although Sir
Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing was too far away to feel the gentle heat of
the flames, the golden light was visible out of the corner of her eye, and that
was comfort enough. The Ice Maiden stood with straight spine, cigar between her
lips, and looked at the garden below. Training fields were far to the left, and
with the blanket of pristine snow layering everything in bluish-white, the
grounds of the Hellsing Organization’s base looked almost peaceful. If she
listened closely, Integra could hear the harsh sound of high-caliber weapons
going off in the firing range. If she gazed intently, she could make out the
forms of the guards huddled in the gatehouse. If she tried, she could see the
fortress within the snow. As she drew deeply on her cigar, she let her eyes
focus on the English oak growing near the manor. Skeletal branches stood out
starkly against the background of light grey clouds reflecting the light of
London, throwing shadows across the smooth ice crystals. The warmth of the
cigar’s smoke trailing through her battered lungs gave a temporary feeling of
cozy security, and the nicotine filtered through her tired brain to induce a
false euphoria. Such things did not last for the lady of steel, and when her
cigar had burnt down to a nub, she stubbed it out with a mental sigh. The FREAKS had been much more
active, as of late, and she was becoming weary with stomping out chipped
vampires as compared to the old work of destroying the true minions of Hell.
Shifting her weight, she walked quietly to the chair she’d drawn up to the open
French doors and settled herself. Her heavy, bottle-green wool suit was warm
enough for standing with a burning cigar in the cold air for a brief moment,
but even she took the time to tuck an afghan around her knees for a prolonged
nighttime watch in the December air. She glanced up at the balcony light,
shaped like an antique lantern, and watched idly at the few moths fluttering
about. One large white moth seemed especially determined to reach the glowing
light within the glass. It battered and beat itself against the cold, unfeeling
material, leaving soft imprints of its dusty wings behind. Integra frowned as
she watched the moth, watched its desperation for death.
“Curious, is it not, Master?”
Having long ago trained herself to
not startle at anything her servant did, Integra merely nodded, pale blue eyes
focused on the suicidal insect.
“Yes, it is. I do not understand
why it seems so determined to die.” The shadows made a faint sound as the
vampire pulled away from them, a sound which always reminded Integra of silk
rasping on metal. Alucard moved forward, his sunglasses tucked away elsewhere.
Crimson eyes focused on the moth for a moment, then shifted to his master.
“I’ve never understood the urge for
death myself,” he murmured, leaning over her. Integra felt her hair stir as he
inhaled deeply, something she always thought an odd fancy on his part. After
all, the undead had no need of breath. “I presumed you understood it, my
master.” Integra’s eyebrow rose.
“Why would I understand that,
Alucard?” He walked around her, sitting on the snow covered balcony railing.
“You’ve been smoking.” It was not a
question, and she did not treat it as such.
“Yes.” The vampire nodded.
“Precisely why I had assumed you would understand.
All you are doing with those is a slow suicide. Obviously, all mortal creatures
have an urge for death which must vanish once you attain eternal life.” Integra
snorted, a rather unladylike sound, and gave him a chilling look.
“At least if I die by cancer, I
made the choice to strive for it.” The monster gave her an answering snort,
with a lack of steam from hot breath marking him clearly as what he was.
“You will not die of cancer.” The
Ice Maiden’s look grew instantly frosty.
“You will not choose the time of my
death.” The vampire smiled, fangs glistening in the cold light. He shifted,
that one change of weight somehow giving the impression of a predator awaiting
a shift of his prey.
“I will not have to, Master. You
will chose for me.” Integra tossed her head, an impatient gesture she could not
repress, and rose abruptly, the afghan falling into the snow.
“I’ve told you before, Alucard, and
I’ll say it again until the moment I die: never. I will not be turned into an
undead by you or anyone else. I will die first.” The vampire simply smiled
again, fangs seeming much more prominent in the dying light as the fire behind
her crackled its own death. Integra tossed a lock of platinum hair from her
face, feeling her blood rise at the arrogant expression on her servant’s face.
“You do not believe me, Alucard?” The vampire ducked his head in an almost
bashful gesture, looking at her from beneath his long bangs.
“I do, my master.” Integra’s lips
curled, and one eyebrow twitched.
“Then the reason you’re sneering
is…?” The vampire shifted, suddenly much closer, although he hadn’t appeared to
move at all. She did not move, refused to be intimidated by his height
advantage, only tilted her head to look up at him, resisting the urge to yank
him down by the tie.
“Because, like the moth, my master,
you are drawn to the flame on which you could die.” The Ice Maiden’s expression
froze completely, her eyes piercing through him, colder than the vampire’s dead
flesh.
“I am not drawn to you,” she said
clearly, calmly. Her voice seemed colder than the December air, and a mortal
man would have withdrawn from her presence immediately. The vampire merely
smiled, shadows merging with those cast by the pair, extending the darkness across
the snow-covered stone.
“Meet my eyes, Master, and say such
again.” Integra’s heart was pounding, adrenaline flooding her system, as a
battle of wills always excited her. She never gave an outward sign, and only
her monster knew her well enough for his nostrils to distend slightly, catching
a whiff of the blood pulsing beneath her skin. Blue which rang of glacier ice
met the raging blood-red. Her breath was deep and even, and her voice sounded
clearly to his ears.
“I. Am. Not. Drawn. To. You.” He
would have laughed, were her words not so forcefully backed up by the
expression in her eyes. The vampire leaned closer, gazing intently into her
pupils. Integra did not move, her face remaining completely expressionless.
Alucard would have believed her, almost believed her…until he saw the small
flicker deep within her eyes. Something akin to a smile touched his face,
drawing his fangs into prominence once more.
“Of course not, my master.” His
purring voice faded into the night as he took one infinitesimal step closer.
Integra spoke no protest, knowing such would be lost on this level of
disobedience. She remained silent as his arms slid around her waist, drawing
her firmly against him. Her eyes did not leave his, even as she felt every
point where they touched. His muscles were rock hard, as if carved from the
stone they stood upon. Her softer flesh seemed more to meld to his, than he to
her. His arms were steel, holding her in place, seeming impossible to move even
as one hand splayed across her lower back and the other slid upward. Her face
did not change, even as he leaned down, crimson eyes hooded now, as he moved
with all the leisure in the world. One gloved finger stroked her cheek, tracing
an invisible line down her jaw and that which he could see of her throat.
Integra did not flinch when Alucard came closer, cold lips brushing over the
golden skin of her cheek. His free hand wound in her long, platinum hair and
pulled at the shining tresses, tilting her head back. To resist would be to
play into his game, therefore, Integra simply moved with his silent demands.
Her glasses slid away, tossed…somewhere? There was no sound of metal striking
stone, or breaking glass, so the assumption that they had been placed somewhere
safe was possible. Her vision filled with nothing but those deep red eyes,
boring into her soul. Still, she did not move, did not flinch as he bent yet
closer and his lips came into contact with her own.
It was…fire, ice, the touch of
everything she remembered that had felt good against her skin. It burned with
an almost painful touch, but ignited something deep in her well-trained mind
that roared for fulfillment. Her wrists were bound by something she could not
see, which gave rise to the assumption that his shadowy tendrils were
assisting. Integra was aware of nothing but him, the press of his heatless body
against her own, the betraying softness of her body which molded to the harder
form it was pressed against. His lips felt…natural. She would have cried out
against it mentally, had she not been so aware of the fact that her lips were
parting at the nudges of his insistent mouth. A vampire’s mouth is a
dangerous area, Integra. Avoid contact with one at all costs. It is their
deadliest weapon. The words of one of her father’s lessons rang quietly at
the back of her mind, and were summarily dismissed when the vampire’s cool
tongue slid between her teeth in a caressing gesture.
Her mouth was open before she had
completed a thought, and her fingers flexed in a futile, almost desperate
gesture. He tasted faintly of old blood, a metallic taste that lingered on her
tongue. The mellow flavor of his favored red wine mingled in her mouth, and she
instinctively sought the familiar taste with her tongue. Dear God…she was
kissing him back. The brush of her tongue against one of his fangs sparked a
response she had not expected. He drew back a bit, and the gentle stroke of his
tongue against the inside of her lip was…cautioning? He did not want to
draw blood? This puzzled Integra, and any puzzle needed to be solved. She did
not consider that this was almost actively pursuing the kiss as she sought to
stroke into his mouth once more. All that mattered was discovering whether or
not he had indeed been pushing her away from his canines. Her mouth moved
against his, lips shifting, seeking a more intimate touch. Alucard’s lips were
velvety, like brushing one’s mouth against a fresh rose petal, and she was
oddly intrigued by this sensation. The question of caution was almost discarded
as she leaned into the kiss. His mouth was leisurely, seeking knowledge of her
mouth slowly. He took the time to nibble oh-so-gently on her tongue, stroking
his own against her lips and sucking lightly on that which offered itself to
him. Heat ran through her body, seeming to pool where they touched. She felt
his muscles shifting as he used both arms to draw her into firmer contact. Her
hands were released, and they went unhesitatingly to his shoulders, gloved
fingers winding into the lengths of his silky black hair, pulling him closer.
Her eyes had long since drifted closed, and she did not want to see the night
sky as he bent her a bit further. Alucard remembered she was mortal, and gave
her moments to draw breath through her nose. Then, his mouth moved again, and
she was lost.
How long it had been, she wasn’t
sure. When his mouth left hers, she felt bereft, her blood tingling in her
body, a longing awakened she was unprepared to deal with. Integra’s eyes
searched for her vampire, and saw nothing but the garden, balcony and empty
library. The fire had burned to smouldering coals, and the moths were much
fewer in number. She realized her feet were cold, her breath steaming more
visibly in the air. The gatehouse light had dimmed, and all sounds in the
buildings had ceased. The Ice Maiden turned away from the balcony, and began
making her way inside, calculating the time until she could make it to her bed.
Admittedly, the only admission she would make to herself, she did not feel like
reports at the moment. Integra paused before closing the library door behind
herself, her eyes sweeping the library and balcony once more. Closing her eyes
briefly, she took several deep breaths through her nose, her mouth shut firmly,
and then shut the door with a click.
Crimson eyes burned in the darkness
as the door shut, leaving the monster alone in the black silence. His gaze
turned to the single moth, beating itself slowly to death against the glass,
and the faintest gleam of a smile was suddenly visible in the shadows. The
point of a fang was discernable.
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