Author's Notes: My first Hellsing fic. My first shonen-ai/yaoi fic. Be nice.
The /word/ is Alucard's mental conversation.The italics, when obviously not a stressed word are Rothen's mental coversation.
Disclaimers: I do not own Hellsing, but God damn, if I could, I so would.
Chapter 1: Into the Dragon's Lair Dark Ages
RomaniaYear
1262 A.D.
He was relaxing on his throne, his cloaks billowing in soft folds around his feet, his chin propped up in the palm of his hand as he stared boredly at his court. You'd think for the creatures of the night, they would be a bit more…lively. No fights had broken out in nearly a week and he was growing restless, anticipating that there was going to be one soon, maybe tonight. That would certainly alleviate his boredom.
He ignored the chatter about him, waving off those who wished to converse with him with a flick of his wrist and a fang-bearing snarl. He did not wish for idle chatter, not while nerves ran tight. He could sense it, something formidable in the air. Coming his way at last.
He felt the corners of his mouth tilt up in a gruesome smirk when the doors of the throne room flew open and the bodies of guards fell in, some headless, some still writhing in agony after their hearts had been cut out. As they turned to ash in final death, a figure stepped out of the plume of darkness and rising dust. The figure stepped into the throne room and the courtiers backed away, on their guard but unnerved all the same. So this wasn't a vampire, come to make a scene. It hadn't been invited inside and yet, here it was. But no human could possibly get past his defenses, he thought, idly toying with a lock of his midnight hair. He tilted his head and smiled wider, finally catching the scent of his uninvited guest.
It was a dark scent, musky and wild and tangy on his taste buds as he breathed it in. The smell of wet fur and dried blood were what he identified next and, struck by curiosity, he motioned to the being to come closer. It obeyed, the courtiers splitting before it like frightened sheep, some covering their noses against the pungent smell of dog that all but radiated off of the creature that passed them. It stepped into the light of an overhead torch, the firelight beaming down on a young, beautiful face, utterly flawless and noble but for a scar across his right eye. A high brow, sharp cheekbones and proud lips set on the pale, oval face…the boy couldn't possibly be human! His eyes caught him in his survey, bearing down at him with such an intensity he could not help the shiver of excitement run down his spine. Gold. His eyes were gold.
A werewolf…the eyes told him before he'd even noticed the soft ears settled on the boy's head and the long, bushy tail that swung lazily between his legs.
The Prince of the Night sat up in his throne and smiled darkly at the boy-wolf before him. They looked like two different ends of a spectrum finally meeting at one point in between. The Prince was dressed in dark red and black and silver robes, lavished in finery while the werewolf was in peasant garb, mail and a pair of rough boots, a sword hanging naked in his hand. They held one another's gaze for some time, neither giving in nor looking away.
Intrigued, the Prince finally asked, "What brings you to my court, Werewolf?"
"I have come to kill you," was the honest reply, the rough voice spilling strangely from his lips, heavily accented.
The Prince laughed, the eerie sound of it echoing off of the smooth stone walls. The courtiers seemed affronted and the werewolf did not react at all, probably having expected this.
"You do not fear me?" the vampire lord asked, having recovered from his mad laughter.
"You are no better than the human swine you slaughter," the werewolf said flatly, readying his blade. The guards stationed around the room almost advanced but the Prince held his hand up to stop them, suddenly serious.
A flash of movement, a confusing billow of capes and the vampire Prince appeared behind the werewolf, a hand wrapped around his throat while the other quickly disarmed him. He sniffed the exposed neck of the werebeing and let out a low purr.
"What would you do to kill me?" the Prince asked, nosing the boy's earlobe just to enjoy the shutter of disgust he felt within the slender body he had captured, the barely contained rage that all werebeings were famous for.
"Anything," the boy spat, trying to clutch tighter onto his sword even as he felt a thumb press into a joint and pop it out of place, rendering his hand useless. He bit back a howl of pain, clenching his teeth tightly together and not making a sound as he distantly heard the crack of a broken wrist and the clatter of his sword hitting the marble floor.
"Would you sell your soul?" the vampire asked, pleased that the werewolf was bearing his torture with some semblance of pride, even as he felt the pain roll off of the werewolf like a cold sweat. He savored it, drank it in and wanted more.
"I have none to sell." The wolf-boy was feeling faint suddenly as the hand around his throat was tightening. He could do nothing about it, though, even though one of his hands was free. The voice had captured him as securely as a snake was captured by the eyes of its charmer. He was as helpless as a cobra, entranced only as long as contact was kept. He heard another low purr emanate from the vampire that held him fast.
"Then I shall have your heart," the vampire whispered. The werewolf felt something prod into his mind, something sharp, searching, testing, but for what, he did not know. He felt it sink painfully deeper into his consciousness, jamming into what had to be his spine before pulling away and leaving something behind, like a thorn in his thumb.
He felt the hand on his throat slide across his chest and rest above his heart, feeling its flurry of pulses. The vampire let out a soft laugh and sunk his fingernails into the flesh below, bypassing the chain mail and leather armor as if it were paper, reaching in, deeper and deeper, into what felt like his innermost being before stopping, gently clutching at the beating organ there. The werewolf was crying silent tears of pain and biting his lower lip so hard it was bleeding but refused to so much as whimper, even as he felt a jerk, a twisting and a final wrench as the vampire pulled out his heart, holding it tightly in his hand.
The world was darkening for the werewolf, senses were overloaded with such terrible pain that he could no longer stand on his own and sagging against the monster that held him even as it feasted on his most precious donator of life. Surely he only had a few moments left to live, he pondered as what felt like minutes came and went without his own passing into the other world. What was happening? Why wasn't he dead?
And then he finally felt a cold wash of sleepiness envelop him and he gratefully sank into it as one would sink into a hot bath on a chilly night, seeking the comfort of unconsciousness and shutting his eyes against the horrors of the vampiric court and Prince before him. And yet, he felt a tugging at the thorn in the back of his mind, as if a string were attached and wanting attention.
Words echoed in the darkness of his delirious mind, in a surreal purr of a voice he could not recognize. He did not address the words. He wasn't even sure he'd heard them at all. He sank further into blackness until he heard and felt and thought nothing more.
/You are mine this night and all the nights forthwith. Forget not my kindness, pet, and pay your debt in full./
Fin Please review.