As per usual, I own nothing except Alucard's hat

He was her knight in shining armor; armor that dripped scarlet blood, pooling at their feet between weary bodies, trailing behind them as he carried her past dismembered and drenched bodies. He killed for her on a daily basis. Strike that, he'd kill anyway. Alucard was, after all, a vampire. But he'd never considered making murder a religion until she began to shout at him.

At the tender age of 13, Integra Hellsing had been nothing to look at. A scrawny little girl in a tent of clothing, hiding what meager curves a teen might claim. But icy blue eyes burnt through him in exhilarating self-righteous anger. She was terrified. He could smell it. He'd thought he could take advantage of that. Blood was blood, after all. The previous Hellsing broke the seal between master and mastered, and now Alucard had no loyalties. And her blood tasted so sweet, like the freshest water in a desert well. He was so thirsty, so very thirsty. Even now, he felt his fangs elongate, felt the tinge of red push at his vision.

He tried to tell himself it was the blood. He would undeniably be connected to the child-woman who woke him up. It tasted different than others'. Even Mina—sweet, darling Mina—had not tasted so delicious, so intoxicating.

Alucard nuzzled into Integra's hair, inhaling her scent. Blood was caked in her hair, spotted on her face. She smelled of warmth, expensive cigars and coffee. Such moments as these were so rare, and he intended to take advantage of her incapacity, dire as it was. Alucard never claimed to be a gentleman.

He carried her swiftly but gently through the dank halls of her imprisonment, cradling her limp body close to his own. Her blood mingled with his in a bastardized version of vampiric coupling. After Incognito's unfortunate accident upon the roof of the church, Alucard had immediately begun to reform Integra's personal army—currently consisting of himself, Seras and a recently, eh, "released" Walter. Alucard had to persuade the guards to let them walk out. He supposed he could have been more violent, but really what was the point? He did enjoy threatening merely by being present in the room.

Which brought him back to the woman sleeping in his arms. Did she know her precarious situation? She was in more danger with him, unconscious and oblivious to all around her, than she ever could be with the Queen's guard in the Tower. Sentenced to rot in a tiny cell, where she'd more than likely have died of pneumonia from the damp before her enemies ever got to her, Integra had taken incarceration quite well, he thought. That is, until he'd shown up and offered her a way out.

He grimaced, tightening his grip on her, remembering Integra's poorly hidden longing and even more apparent disgust. Even when faced with such an impossible situation, she refused his blood. He hated her and admired her for it. He hated himself for wanting it so much. Why should he let her affect him so? Blood was blood, damn it!

Integra's blood was currently seeping out of a wound in her side to trickle in thin rivulets down his duster. That was a problem. Having burst into the room just as Alucard made his move on his young master—he knew she would have given in—the guards began to fire at will. As he said, his ungodly presence was terrifying in the extreme. The bullets at first did nothing to him as he shielded Integra from the onslaught. But then mercury began to burn in his chest, his neck, legs and groin. He could defeat dried up relics of ancient Egypt, live centuries in an eternal war against God and Devil but he was not entirely immune to that single element. Though his flesh had already begun to mend—bones reattaching themselves, spidery veins melting together, skin pulling taught to heal without scars, pain transforming into anger and power—Integra did not fair as well. Though he had tried to protect her from the worst of the bullet shower, it was a tiny room and there were many guns. One bullet caught her just above her hip and she fell.

Even now, with her body prone against his, her life blood leaking out in alarming amounts, Alucard had difficulty suppressing the instinct to drop to the floor and suck her dry. Why he didn't was lodged rather uncomfortably in the back of his mind. He would deal with that later. For now, he concentrated on hauling himself and his master out of the Tower and away from Her Majesty's wrath.

A/N: So, uh, yeah. This is not a one-shot. For once. So more is to come. Hopefully. Unless I get hit by a bus or jump out a window. I know I left a lot of stuff unanswered, which is why there is more to follow. Yeah, so the invisible monkey on this page commands you to read.