Vesper

Final Hellsing fic for @whumptober we're actually ending on fluff.

Prompt: Fatigue, burnout Fandom: Hellsing Character: Integra

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Read on Ao3

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Day 29: Fatigue

Integra has been putting in too much work recently. Alucard and Seras are determined to get her to take a rest.

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The meeting seemed to be dragging on forever. The lords enjoyed droning on and on and normally Integra was able to at least keep up a polite guise. Today, though, she had a pounding headache, and (was definitely not) coming down with something.

The amount of work recently had seemed to skyrocket. Maybe it was something to do with still being in the wake of the Major’s attempted war, but it seemed like a new rash of vampires and ghouls were cropping up all over England, making it even harder on Hellsing to start rebuilding. With their depleted ranks, it was difficult for them to find enough men to stretch for all the missions so Integra was often pulling double duty herself. Seras and Alucard were, of course, assets, but even they couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“And now for the finance reports—Lord Berkley?”

Integra pressed her fingers into the bridge of her nose, massaging under the strap of her eyepatch. If someone shot her right now it couldn’t be more unpleasant.

When the meeting finally adjourned, Integra politely excused herself. Seras was waiting for her as she left, a grim look on her face.

“Sir Integra, Captain Wellings called—there’s been another outbreak in Sussex.”

“Bloody hell,” Integra growled. “Are Alucard and the other team back yet?”

Seras shook her head. “No. They’re just finishing up, but they won’t be back in time.”

Integra sighed wearily as she led the way to the car. “Fine. We’ll head out there then.”

Seras hurried to keep up with her. “Sir Integra…um…I can go with Captain Wellings and a few men, there’s no reason you have to come, I know you’re…”

“What, Seras?” Integra snapped.

The young vampire hesitated. “Well it’s just that you’ve been working so hard recently. I know you haven’t been sleeping. Don’t you think you should get some rest?”

🩸 “The Baptism of Ruby” — The Sacred Unmaking

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“You need a name,” he murmurs, voice low and electric. “Something worthy of what you are now.”

He kisses her temple, just once.

“Ruby,” he whispers. “For the jewel you’ve become... and the blood you wear so beautifully.”

~

The chapel had long been abandoned, the rotted wood the stained worn color of dandelion yellow.

What once housed solemn hymns now echoed with the murmur of something older—something darker. Candles flickered like nervous heartbeats. The stained-glass saints watched through fractured panes, their faces warped into silent screams by the flicker of flame and shadow.

In the center, the girl knelt.

No—Ruby knelt.

“Ruby,” he whispers through the memory of her prayers.

Naked, save for the crimson handprint across her chest, left there by Alucard’s palm. Her hair clung to her skin in damp clumps, her eyes wide, unblinking. Awaiting judgment. No... ascension.

From behind the altar, Integra emerged. Regal, composed, her boots clicking like the ticking of fate. Her shirt unbuttoned dangerously low, her eyes trailed downwards; The cigar smoke precedes her like a ghost

Alucard followed in her wake like a curse dressed in silk and shadows. He carried a silver bowl—ornate, etched with scripture in Latin and madness. It sloshed gently with the sacred blood of their enemies, freshly taken from a high priest whose last breath was a hymn to a deaf God.

“Do you renounce your former vows?” Integra asked, her voice smooth and cold as blade steel.

Ruby didn’t flinch. “I do.”

“For the jewel you’ve become”

“Do you forsake their God?” Alucard cooed, crouching before her, tilting her chin up with a bloodstained glove.

“I do.”

“Do you pledge your body,” Integra said, circling her like a predator in commandment robes, “your will, your hunger—to us?”

“and the blood you wear so beautifully.”

“To you,” Ruby whispered, trembling not with fear, but something deeper. Something ecstatic. “Always.”

Alucard’s smile was slow. “Then rise, child of crimson.”

But first—the blood.

Integra dipped her fingers into the bowl and drew a line from Ruby’s throat to her sternum, then across each shoulder. “In the name of death, we mark you.”

Alucard followed, pushing Ruby back until she lay across the stone altar, arms outstretched like a sacrifice too sacred to burn. He poured the bowl slowly over her chest, letting the thick, hot blood trail down her ribs, pool in her collarbones, paint her thighs.

“In the name of war,” he growled, licking a droplet from her navel, “we claim you.”

“And in the name of us,” Integra said, now close enough for Ruby to feel her breath, “we baptize you. You are no longer theirs.”

Integra leaned down, and kissed her—chaste, but electric. A final seal.

Alucard followed with his mouth to her throat, whispering against her pulse, “You are Ruby. Our Ruby. Our sacred sin".

The candles flared as if answering the rite. The chapel groaned, ancient and awakened. Outside, the sky cracked open with thunder.

Forgotten, 1944. .˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚.

CHARACTERS INCLUDED:

Alucard

Walter C. Dornez

It was always nights like this.

Nights that leave Walter thinking a little more than he should.

He’s always had a terrible habit of getting stuck in his own head, thinking too much about things that are out of his control.

The outside air was cold, the breeze blowing enough to chap skin and numb fingertips.

The leaves from the past season’s foliage had fallen onto the ground, coating the manor’s courtyard in a crunchy orange blanket.

A waft of cigarette smoke drifted through the window as Walter leaned against the windowsill, his icy grey eyes tracing the outside scenery.

The scent of the smoke filled the sitting room as the draft from the window blew some of the smoke back inside, combining with the warm scent of beeswax from his freshly polished pistol lying nearby.

He had already tuned out the sound of the gramophone spinning his favorite record in the background, consumed by his own thoughts.

“You seem busy.”

That irritating, grating voice.

Walter scoffs, his fingers pulling the cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out on the well-used ashtray on the windowsill.

“What is it this time?”

He responds curtly as he blows a plume of smoke out the window, turning his attention to the source of his irritation.

Walter doesn’t like being interrupted when he’s so deep in thought. It feels like he’s in the middle of something important, though he knows he isn’t. Still, it’s really annoying.

Standing by the velvet tasseled loveseat by the fireplace is a familiar face, one that belongs to the Hellsing trump card, Alucard.

He stands as still as a Grecian statue, having seemingly materialized out of nowhere. He looms just a few feet away from Walter, an unsettling but familiar grin plastered on his ghostly white features.

The vampire narrows his eyes ever so slightly before responding, his voice refined and calm, but laced with condescension. It reminds Walter of whiskey; smooth in essence, but burning on the way down.

“Do you think a monster is born or created?”

Walter blinks. The question feels out of place. Unexpected. Though, then again, everything in this organization does. Walter takes a moment to think before giving his answer, glancing over his shoulder at him.

“Created, maybe. Evil is a learned behavior.”

Alucard lets out a dark chuckle at his answer, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“Such a naïve answer.”

Walter frowns.

“I’m not in the mood for this.”

Alucard doesn’t respond to his dismissal, slowly approaching behind the butler with his gloved hands clasped behind his back like a lecturer inspecting a student’s work.

“You’ve been trained to believe monsters make themselves,” he says, his voice calculating.

“It’s much easier to kill something you believe chose to be damned.”

Walter’s grip tightens on the windowsill, vexation dripping into his tone.

“If something kills innocent people, I don’t care how it came to exist.”

Alucard stops behind him.

“Ah,” the vampire murmurs. “So the sin erases the story.”

Walter rolls his eyes so hard it almost hurts.

“Should it not?”

For the first time, Alucard’s smile thins.

“Then by that logic,” he says quietly, “you are simply another executioner in training.”

Walter’s pulse stutters beneath his pale skin. He whips around to face him, speaking through gritted teeth, his fists clenched at his sides.

“I am not. I don’t enjoy killing,” he snaps, taking a small, shaky breath in a failed attempt at saving face before continuing.

“I’m not like you.”

Alucard’s red eyes flick down to his wrist—right where his hidden wires rest. The wires he knows have taken the lives of countless undead creatures of the night.

“Enjoyment is irrelevant,” he replies.

“Action is what defines the monster.”

Walter swallows. “So what does that make you?”

Alucard leans down just enough that his shadow swallows Walter’s; close enough for him to smell the iron and corpse rot on his breath.

“More complex than your definition,” he says in a dangerously quiet voice.

“And far beyond your own comprehension.”

Walter stands his ground anyway, like a kitten raising its hackles and hissing at a mountain lion.

“If monsters are born into this world, as you’re implying,” he says, “then they can be taken out of it.”

“Careful. That’s the kind of thinking that gets little butlers promoted to martyrs,” Alucard murmurs, his grin returning in full force like a right hook to the face.

Walter can’t help but freeze in place for a moment. He knows full well of the vampire’s capabilities, having seen them firsthand. It terrifies him beyond words.

Still, despite being a butler, he is a soldier too. A soldier cannot falter, even when faced with something out of his caliber.

“You forget that I’m not the one the Hellsing organization keeps on a leash.”

Alucard doesn’t seem to like that too much. Walter can see his eyes narrow ever so slightly in response.

“And you forget, little one,” he says, “you can be replaced at the drop of a hat.”

His grin widens almost impossibly, a chilling look in his eyes that Walter can’t put a name to.

“You are a child playing with an extinction button. The heat of battle has barely marred your skin. Once you’ve been bested on the battlefield and meet your maker, they’ll have your job position posted by morning.”

Alucard leans even closer, chills running down Walter’s spine.

“You’ll be an afterthought. Forgotten and left to rot, buried under a rock. The dead are nothing but trash.”

Walter wears the look of a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck. It feels like he’s been hit by one, too. But before he can move his lips to respond, Alucard vanishes in the blink of an eye.

He stands in silence for what feels like an eternity, staring blankly at the wall. Deep within his gut, a pit of despair and rage fills him, his teeth clenching. He runs a hand through his shaggy black hair, pulling another cigarette from his pack.

That is the reality of being a soldier. Not just for Hellsing, but in general. You pay your respects, and then you move on. You’re forgotten. Eventually, Walter knows that will be his fate.

Thanks Anon, this one was low key fun to do!

Request: Yep!

Warnings: None really

Characters: Alucard, Anderson,Walter, Enrico, The Captain,

Alucard

“You’re telling me you don’t want to leave?”

He’s shocked, amused is a better word really. After learning that not only are Vampires real, there at least two entire organizations tasked with killed rampant ones, and he’s turned you into one himself, your only question is: So I live here for free? He actually starts laughing when he realises you really just don’t care that he’s kidnapped you.

“Do you realise how hard it is to find a man who will take care of you? I’ll take the free, if questionable, housing and lack of silverware!”

Father Anderson

“Well that saves me a wee bit of trouble, thank you lass!”

He is absolutely delighted that you want to stay with him. He dislikes being rough with his little love so being able to have you so compliant is perfect for him. He gets concerned with his happy you are to stay in a single room all day so because you are so well behaved, he takes you out for walks and to play with the children.

“I like being in my room, I don’t have responsibilities and I get to play with kids all day, why would I want to leave?”

Walter C. Dornez

“Very good Butterfly, I won’t have to clean up after all.”

He’s a bit weary, you’d be fine living with a butler who takes care of an estate housing a dangerous vampire? Because you don’t want to deal with being an adult? To him it’s odd, absurd almost. Over time he believes that you simply don’t care about the circumstances anymore and will happily move you from the dungeons of the estate to his quarters. He even gets Integra to give you a job as a means to help around, he doesn’t want you getting *too* lazy after all. Some responsibility is good responsibility in his eyes.

“Walter, you take care of me and I get gourmet meals for almost every meal…why would I leave?”

Enrico Maxwell

“Really? Well in that case how about I take you shopping?”

Enrico is absolutely delighted by this, and in eyes this is exactly how you should have reacted so he’s more than thankful for your easy cooperation. He’s quick to take you out having full confidence that you’ll stay by his side and you do. He introduces you to Father Anderson and brings you to his ‘visits’ with Integra who is surprisingly amicable despite what he says (only for your sake). He tries to keep you away from the grand scheme of things, however should you find out he’s shocked to know that you prefer to stay with him (not that you ever had a choice).

“I get pampered and protect from monsters, why would I leave?”

The Captain

“You..want to stay?”

He is…very confused. However, if you’re nice to him he’ll be nice to you and he’s got no problem relaxing with you when he isn’t doing anything. Being a werewolf, he’s very comfortable with cuddling you and you almost forget what he is and the kind of life he leads because of how well he tends to separate things. Aside from being a murderer of sorts, he’s an exemplary man and you couldn’t be happier. There isn’t a whole lot of talking, but there is a whole lot of cuddling.

and those were the last words john uttered before slamming the palm of his hand down against his desk and leaving. spoken the way most things he says are - gruff and final, with no room for argument - stunning the room into silence until the door shut hard behind him.

everyone just looked at each other, dumbstruck.

“should we wait for him to come back?”

“what the hell does that mean—”

“is that code for something?”

“wait, he’s married?”

price didn’t hear a word of it - by that point he was already halfway down the hall, boots pounding concrete with purpose, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, everything else dissolving into white-hot static behind his eyes.

he can take a lot of bullshit. does it daily. but fuckin’ hell - they wouldn’t stop. wouldn’t stop talking, hovering, circling him like crows. clipping questions at him in endless fucking rotations.

what now, captain? what’s next? what do we do about makarov? do we move now or wait for shepherd’s greenlight? have you seen the updated file? should we pull soap and gaz back? do we burn the safe house? double-tap the asset? what’s the protocol—

jesus fuckin’ christ.

it’d been too long. john’s mentally checked out and he knows it. doesn’t care. he didn’t want to be in that room. didn’t want to sit at that table. didn’t want to give another goddamn order with five pairs of bloodshot eyes looking at him like he’s meant to have all the answers and none of the doubt.

he needs a break. not a debrief. not another satellite feed. not another fucking decision.

he needs to go home and fuck his wife.

needs to put his hands on something solid, something that he doesn’t have to second guess. something that’d let him burn off all the static and pressure and noise building between his temples without asking anything much in return. his sanctuary where he can fall apart and come back clearer. reset his head before it spun off his shoulders.

so he peeled out of the parking lot before he’d even properly put the car in drive, and sent you one text: