D" for Short
Father-Son Connection ( Chapter 1 )
“Mummy.”
Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing glanced up from her work to regard the toddler that had just crossed her office threshold. He was small for his age, fairy-thin, though his long limbs and fingers promised substantial height in adulthood despite his present size. Loose mahogany curls stood out sharply against pale features, and his eyes—normally a blue so pale as to be nearly colorless—were tinged a faint red in the darkness. The boy was dressed in a loose set of black cotton footies, although he did not look the least bit tired.
With a sigh, Integra put aside the requisition forms she had been reviewing and left her desk. She crossed the room in several brisk strides and crouched in front of the child.
“Why aren't you in bed, Dante?”
“Wasn't sleepy,” he immediately informed her, hands reaching for her in a wordless request to be held. Integra obliged, and wrapped her long arms around the small form. She lifted Dante and carried him back to her desk, where he settled happily in her lap once she'd sat down in her chair. Wordlessly, the leader of the Hellsing organization went back to work, reviewing and signing forms. Dante was content to remain quiet and made himself useful by taking the finished forms and piling them in the outbox at one corner of the desk.
The pair worked together in this fashion for almost an hour before they were interrupted. The shadows in one corner of the room coalesced and thickened into a humanoid form. Dozens of blood-hued eyes stared out of the darkness at mother and child.
Most children would have been terrified at the way the shadows came to life, but Dante simply raised one tiny hand and waved as he put another finished paper in its place.
“Hi Daddy.”
Chuckling softly, Alucard stepped out of the darkness (or perhaps it was the wall; it was difficult to tell) and smiled toothily at the boy. “Bothering your mother at work again? I distinctly recall putting you to bed not so long ago.”
“Wasn't sleepy,” the boy insisted without pausing in his work. “Besides, you're too loud.”
Integra raised one pale eyebrow at her vampire, and for once, Alucard had the good grace to look chastened … almost. There were certain difficulties involved in raising a dhampir, and Integra found herself the favorite candidate for late-night interruptions by virtue of her office being closer to Dante's room than Alucard's crypt was.
As Dante set the last of the requisition forms in the outbox, his mother began to sort through a variety of letters stacked neatly to one side. Dante watched her, curious. He had not learned to read yet, but he knew the alphabet and was quick to learn individual words. He was already able to identify his mother's name, as well as a number of common phrases. Alucard was also intent on teaching the boy Romanian, and D was proving to be remarkably fluent. The vampire had plans for starting him on Latin next, and then perhaps German.
One of the letters in the stack was postmarked from Rome, and Integra could feel her blood pressure spiking. She reined in her temper in for her son's sake, but Alucard was well-aware of her growing anger. He perched on the edge of the desk and propped himself up on one arm to get a better look at what had upset his master. When he saw the name of one of his least-favorite Vatican lackeys in the signature block, he bared his fangs in a sneer. “Would you like me to answer his missive?” he offered.
Surprisingly, it wasn't Integra who answered, but Dante. The child pulled himself up onto the desk and shoved at his father's chest, tiny fangs peeking from behind bloodless lips as he scowled at Alucard. “Too loud!” he insisted again.
Exasperated, Integra looked up to meet Alucard's red eyes. “What did you do that has your son so perturbed?”
“Nothing,” Alucard professed as he pulled a pouting Dante into his lap. “I've been very good all evening Master. Unless … “ His eyes brightened and he smiled as he shifted to get a better look at his son. “You saw what I'd like to do to that priest, didn't you?” he asked the boy.
Dante nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to look every bit as intimidating as his mother. In another fourteen years or so, he just might. “Wasn't nice. You shouldn't do that to people.”
Laughing, Alucard ruffled D's hair. “Perhaps not,” he admitted before he shifted his attention to Integra. “It would seem that our son is becoming more perceptive.”
“Then keep a tighter rein on your thoughts, Alucard,” Integra informed him stiffly. She knew precisely what sorts of things her vampire found pleasure in, and almost none of them were things she wanted her three-year-old child to develop a taste for. “Now, if you wouldn't mind, I still have a great deal of work to do.”
“Yes Master,” Alucard replied as he stood with the boy in his arms and backed away.
Without looking up from her letters, Integra added, “Dante can stay. He's better behaved than you are.”
Wearing a mocking grin, Alucard set their son down and watched the child clamber back to his place in Integra's lap. He melted into shadows, his disembodied voice the final indicator that he had ever been in the room. “As you wish.”
Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing glanced up from her work to regard the toddler that had just crossed her office threshold. He was small for his age, fairy-thin, though his long limbs and fingers promised substantial height in adulthood despite his present size. Loose mahogany curls stood out sharply against pale features, and his eyes—normally a blue so pale as to be nearly colorless—were tinged a faint red in the darkness. The boy was dressed in a loose set of black cotton footies, although he did not look the least bit tired.
With a sigh, Integra put aside the requisition forms she had been reviewing and left her desk. She crossed the room in several brisk strides and crouched in front of the child.
“Why aren't you in bed, Dante?”
“Wasn't sleepy,” he immediately informed her, hands reaching for her in a wordless request to be held. Integra obliged, and wrapped her long arms around the small form. She lifted Dante and carried him back to her desk, where he settled happily in her lap once she'd sat down in her chair. Wordlessly, the leader of the Hellsing organization went back to work, reviewing and signing forms. Dante was content to remain quiet and made himself useful by taking the finished forms and piling them in the outbox at one corner of the desk.
The pair worked together in this fashion for almost an hour before they were interrupted. The shadows in one corner of the room coalesced and thickened into a humanoid form. Dozens of blood-hued eyes stared out of the darkness at mother and child.
Most children would have been terrified at the way the shadows came to life, but Dante simply raised one tiny hand and waved as he put another finished paper in its place.
“Hi Daddy.”
Chuckling softly, Alucard stepped out of the darkness (or perhaps it was the wall; it was difficult to tell) and smiled toothily at the boy. “Bothering your mother at work again? I distinctly recall putting you to bed not so long ago.”
“Wasn't sleepy,” the boy insisted without pausing in his work. “Besides, you're too loud.”
Integra raised one pale eyebrow at her vampire, and for once, Alucard had the good grace to look chastened … almost. There were certain difficulties involved in raising a dhampir, and Integra found herself the favorite candidate for late-night interruptions by virtue of her office being closer to Dante's room than Alucard's crypt was.
As Dante set the last of the requisition forms in the outbox, his mother began to sort through a variety of letters stacked neatly to one side. Dante watched her, curious. He had not learned to read yet, but he knew the alphabet and was quick to learn individual words. He was already able to identify his mother's name, as well as a number of common phrases. Alucard was also intent on teaching the boy Romanian, and D was proving to be remarkably fluent. The vampire had plans for starting him on Latin next, and then perhaps German.
One of the letters in the stack was postmarked from Rome, and Integra could feel her blood pressure spiking. She reined in her temper in for her son's sake, but Alucard was well-aware of her growing anger. He perched on the edge of the desk and propped himself up on one arm to get a better look at what had upset his master. When he saw the name of one of his least-favorite Vatican lackeys in the signature block, he bared his fangs in a sneer. “Would you like me to answer his missive?” he offered.
Surprisingly, it wasn't Integra who answered, but Dante. The child pulled himself up onto the desk and shoved at his father's chest, tiny fangs peeking from behind bloodless lips as he scowled at Alucard. “Too loud!” he insisted again.
Exasperated, Integra looked up to meet Alucard's red eyes. “What did you do that has your son so perturbed?”
“Nothing,” Alucard professed as he pulled a pouting Dante into his lap. “I've been very good all evening Master. Unless … “ His eyes brightened and he smiled as he shifted to get a better look at his son. “You saw what I'd like to do to that priest, didn't you?” he asked the boy.
Dante nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best to look every bit as intimidating as his mother. In another fourteen years or so, he just might. “Wasn't nice. You shouldn't do that to people.”
Laughing, Alucard ruffled D's hair. “Perhaps not,” he admitted before he shifted his attention to Integra. “It would seem that our son is becoming more perceptive.”
“Then keep a tighter rein on your thoughts, Alucard,” Integra informed him stiffly. She knew precisely what sorts of things her vampire found pleasure in, and almost none of them were things she wanted her three-year-old child to develop a taste for. “Now, if you wouldn't mind, I still have a great deal of work to do.”
“Yes Master,” Alucard replied as he stood with the boy in his arms and backed away.
Without looking up from her letters, Integra added, “Dante can stay. He's better behaved than you are.”
Wearing a mocking grin, Alucard set their son down and watched the child clamber back to his place in Integra's lap. He melted into shadows, his disembodied voice the final indicator that he had ever been in the room. “As you wish.”