Real Life Princesses

Warning: This story is rated T. It contains language, violence and there be off screen sex. Heck, we could even say it's YWx future QEII now. Be warned and be good.

This is the end. Thank you to my few reviewers! I appreciate and respond to all who I can. I will probably do a final edit through the story, so get your comments in quickly so I can alter whatever needs improving.

Disclaimer: Hellsing and its characters are the property of Kohta Hirano and his publishers; I have no stake in them.

This story is set in January 1947.

Chapter 15

She had arranged to get him alone, then didn't know what to say. Elizabeth would've laughed at herself, but she worried he'd think she'd gone mad from the attack, "Walter, I... I'm sorry." Margaret was off to bed, Arthur was retrieving her sleeping cousin and the vampire was, well according to the horrible noises in the night, she feared he must be still fighting. She drew in a long breath, watching the youth's back as he stood at the door, ostensibly guarding the girls. "When we, I... Earlier, I shouldn't have hit you." She watched him standing stiffly, the movement of cigarette smoke the only indication that he was alive.

"The crown princess... the bloody King's daughter and heir to the Empire of Great Britain does not need to apologize to a servant boy," he said flatly and took another drag.

She watched his back, just catching the line of his face in the glow when he inhaled. Elizabeth knew this was foolishness, she knew the need she felt was a product of the stress she'd been under, but she rose to stand behind him anyway. "You're no servant, Dornez. You're a weapon. I understand that now." She moved closer, her mouth only inches from his neck. He shivered as she touched his shoulder. For some reason, that delighted her.

"And I don't understand anything," he said bitterly, knowing that wasn't exactly true. He understood why she didn't tell Hellsing about the slap, for example. He knew that he would have to later, if only to explain why he'd allowed her to go so near the danger. He knew it was his failure that led to the pain she'd suffered. He knew she didn't like him to touch her although she seemed to touch him plenty. He pulled away from her, slouching closer to the hallway.

Time was precious, she thought. Any minute now Hellsing would return, her sister would wake or the monster would be back. She wished she'd had locks installed already in her sister's door, but the castle bureaucracy moved slowly. "Walter," she was past arguing right and wrong with herself. Her fiancée was miles away. No doubt he worried about her since she usually wrote him daily and had now missed three in a row but still, he was half a world away. The boy, she corrected herself, the man who had killed for her was right here, right now. He turned to face her and she watched his eyes cloud as she shook off his jacket.

His fag dropped to the carpet and he ground it out with the toe of one shoe. Surely they'll forgive one more burned spot, he thought as his pulse raced. The tattered strips of fabric that had been her jacket and blouse did nothing to hide her body from him and she stood watching him with a regal expression. A sound escaped his throat as his mind caught up to his body; realizing what she wanted, he moved like a man in a dream. She stretched her arms out to him. Bloody Hell, he wondered, the princess? He shut his mind to the protests of his conscience as his hands brushed the remnants of her clothes from her chest and he kissed her mouth the way the vampire had done to him.

With a light laugh, Elizabeth pushed Walter away, "Easy there, my jaw's a little tender. Let's move to the couch." She was three years his senior and between them she clearly had the only experience in such a situation. The springs complained loudly at their movements. This was illicit in every sense and it excited her. She wanted his mouth everywhere. She'd watched him use his hands to kill; with a thrill she directed them now for her pleasure. Moaning softly, he'd do anything she asked.

In the ruined library, Alucard sat reading. His familiars continued to play and howl, enjoying the night and savoring their victory. The duffel bag was nearly emptied of the huge tomes and he could see why she had risked so much for them, though his own interests were different. The vampires studied weren't all top notch, but the notes for each one contained hundreds of details to be gleaned from the pseudo-scientific jargon. The experiments run were quite clever. He would recommend his master read this as well, there was much room for improvement in his form and power levels and it was all laid out in these works. Alucard was tempted to hoard these, to claim they'd been lost in the battle, yet that wasn't his way, not now. His bondage freed him of responsibility; Arthur had to make the decisions, the hard choices. The loss, the deaths were Arthur's burden, not the vampire's anymore. He had no need to own these books. Alucard reread Van Helsing's sections frowning. It wasn't until he heard his master's call that he stirred.

On his way to help Sir Hellsing, Alucard stopped in to gaze at the sleeping princess. Margaret's slumber was troubled, no doubt from the trauma of the night. He pressed gently on her mind, pushing her deeper into sleep. Dawn was coming and the palace would be waking soon, but she needed rest and plenty to drink. She was young enough, her body should recover well. He ran a finger along her newly re-bandaged arm, smiling. What she did not need was to hear the sounds of pleasure from the adjoining sitting room. He chuckled and continued on to the side entrance and to his master.

Arthur continued his discourse with Sir Islands until he felt the dread chill of his servant's approach, "Alucard?" He relaxed a touch as his servant's white gloved hands and the brim of his red hat could be seen moving through the doorway across from the men. "Would you be so kind as to allow Hugh to wake up? He's dreadfully dull company as is." He smiled a silly grin and waved the knight's hand like a puppet's.

The vampire wrinkled his nose slightly at the perfume of Whiskey as he stood before his master. "The butler, master. Do you want him punished?" Alucard was careful with his wording, a sly grin on his face.

"Jameson?" Arthur looked befuddled for a second before saying, "Right, right. Yes, Alucard, I want you to help me with Islands, then go see to Jameson. I want him alive, mind you. Bring him back here, if you please. We'll put him in the boot."

"Master, when I lift it, the whole house," he swept his arm across the garage and buildings, "the night staff and all who should be awake at this time will be." He saw the warning signs of a tantrum in Hellsing's face. Mentally, he reminded himself of the steps needed to reverse the sleeping charm.

"Dammit, Alucard! I'm already this close to thrashing you, just do as I say!" Arthur stared into the cruel eyes of his pet. The vampire couldn't be held to blame for the destruction, nor the hit coming to the Hellsing Organization's status. The staff would discover the damage soon enough and the rest would follow but Arthur was too tired to care.

"I see," Alucard was also tired. Dying was the closest he'd come to sleep since he'd arrived and that transformation process could hardly be called restful. His lips formed a thin line and he concentrated for a time before moving his hands in an arcane pattern and, using Islands as his "voodoo doll," or representative for the other civilians, he waved his hand over the sleeping man. The result was slower than Hellsing seemed to like, but Islands would come to in a few minutes. After bowing to his master, Alucard stepped outside and stretched his hands up; it seemed like he might be calling to a flock of barely visible bats high in the night sky, but then he became the flock and was gone.

Arthur Hellsing slumped down on the couch next to where he had propped up Islands. "What were they thinking? Trying to chain him is like holding back a tidal wave. You know, his power's a drug; some nights we go looking for trouble just to try him out on it. I... well truth is it gives me a rush too, a good fight does. For king and country and all that, eh Hugh?" Island's hand moved over his, squeezing weakly. Arthur smiled, "Ah, good morning old friend."

The rush of sex was like the feeling Walter felt in killing and he wanted it, again and again. Not immediately, he reminded himself, since he was letting her catch her breath. They'd moved to the floor of the sitting room and his clothes and a few couch cushions provided her bed. She wasn't royalty to him anymore; she was a woman, nothing more and nothing less. He'd lost all sense of their class differences after the first time and without thinking reached out his hand to stroke all over her face.

Elizabeth turned to look at him, cheeks flushed. She smiled at his open expression; his dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. What he lacked in experience, she mused, he more than made up for with enthusiasm and a willingness to please. Her fingers brushed lazily over his lips and she was happy to see that he was ready to go once more as he licked at them. For a moment, they were just two kids touching each other, basking in the afterglow. She'd only felt this way once before and she hadn't had near this much fun. As soon as that thought formed, a cold breeze swept through her mind. What am I doing? She pulled away in horror. The boy leaned in, his lips trying to follow where his fingers had been but she froze at his touch. Something had changed inside her and she felt her sense of duty, of responsibility returning in a flood. Someday she would be queen and he would still be a hired killer. She couldn't change that. Her uncle had thrown away the throne for a divorced American and it had torn her family apart. Her fiancée was a good match and she loved him, she always had. End of story. This had been a mistake, an exciting, even wonderful, mistake.

Walter searched her face, but couldn't figure out what was different, "Elizabeth?" He moved back to better focus on her, "What is it?" The door opened and a chambermaid entered the room behind them. Walter looked about instinctively for his gloves and wires, but couldn't find them. That upset him more than the servant walking around the couch and gasping. The princess waved her hand toward the door and the maid left wordlessly, her face a bright red. Walter worried Elizabeth would die of embarrassment but she giggled instead.

"Well, there goes my reputation," she smiled at him. Not the way she had in the throes of passion, but without any trace of worry. "It's alright," she put her hand on his forearm as he rose to collect their clothes, "the servants here are very discreet." She immediately regretted her choice of words and pulled her hand away as his face closed down into the blank expression she'd seen before. She sighed, watching his tightly muscled body move. It was true this was jolly nice, but it could only be a one time thing. Luckily he wasn't a servant of her house. She couldn't resist if he served her, she was sure of that. Instead, he would leave today and she could easily arrange never to see him again. She could communicate with Hellsing via messengers as needed. Walter pulled his trousers on hastily before leaning down politely, professionally, to assist her up. In fact, she thought looking up at him, she could probably arrange to have Walter killed if she wanted; all evidence hidden. Sir Hellsing might object, but the Convention of Twelve would do such things for the crown, making the monarchy less of a figurehead than English citizens needed to know. Once she was standing, Walter tried to pull away, not making eye contact until she held on to his hands, touching them with respect. She gave him a soft kiss on the lips, a kiss of regret, a kiss of goodbye. Emotions played in his gray eyes, but like a good servant, he said nothing. Of course she wouldn't ask her father to do anything to Walter, she pulled him close, her hands roaming along his back, he was far too valuable a tool to waste. "Thank you," she whispered and released him.

Walter relaxed once she kissed him and he smiled, but didn't trust his voice to speak. He finished dressing and set about to put the cushions back while she slipped into her clothes, discarding her rags for his jacket, only buttoning it up as high as she could. His mind raced over the past night, the highs and the lows of it, while he straightened up the room under her gaze. He imagined returning often with Sir Hellsing; he imagined them finding time for each other; he imagined falling in love with her. It shouldn't bother him that she was back to acting like a princess, he reasoned, she was what she was and it wasn't his place to want her to change. Still no sign of his gloves, he heaved a sigh before composing his face and turning to her with a grin, "If it pleases your Highness, I'd like a moment to wash up." It wasn't really a question and she nodded her answer, as he proceeded to the bathroom. After splashing his face, Walter looked up to see the red eyes of Alucard staring back at him through the mirror. "Go away or take a form, Alucard." The eyes disappeared, but Walter doubted he left.

"You're certainly in a bad mood for a boy who just lost his virginity. Are you tired of being a boy toy already?" the little girl stood next to the sink, dressed in the white suit and coat Alucard knew would be remembered. This form always put the boy at his ease, made him cockier. The boy ignored her, washing his face and hands thoroughly without giving so much as a look at the vampire. Red eyes partly hidden under black bangs glowed with glee as she moved close, leaning over to sniff at the boy's neck. "Mm, yum!" Alucard let Walter push her away easily, pouting, "Little Angel didn't even invite me to the party! We could've had such fun."

"Ahhh," Walter finally looked at the vampire, smirking and laughing, "I don't think she'd like that."

"Don't be so full of yourself," Alucard teased, twirling a strand of long hair, "I can be a lot of fun at parties." A feigned look of surprise crossed her face as she ran her hand along her coat, exclaiming, "Oh, what's this? There's something in my pocket? Pass me a cig and I'll show it to you." She moved back, watching the boy rummage through his waistcoat and withdraw a pack. "You should quit. Do you know how easy it is to track a smoker?"

"Stuff it," Walter lit both cigarettes before handing one over. It had been years since the vampire had chosen to share a smoke, but not so long since he'd lectured on it. Walter blew out wisps of acrid smoke and leaned against the back of the door, "What's in your pocket then?" He imagined Alucard would draw this out for a while, so the shock of seeing what the vampire brought out in white gloved hands was doubled. The little girl's face looked like a very vicious cat who ate a pet shop full of canaries. Walter's wires, rings and gloves glinted through her fingers. "Where did... when? You? Oh." Walter knew not to reach for them. The vampire would grab his hand, pushing back each finger until the boy cried out or perhaps the finger broke. At least that was how Alucard usually did; right now Walter wasn't sure how anyone was going to behave. "May I have my gloves back?"

"That's what I like about you, Angel, you can be trained," she picked up one glove and seemed to consider it, "but you haven't said 'please.'"

There was a knock on the door and an almost timid voice asked, "Walter? Are you alright in there?"

Alucard rolled her eyes, making Walter laugh a little as he answered, "Of course, ma'am, we'll be right out." In a softer voice, he asked the vampire, "Please, may I have my things back?"

"As long as you acknowledge that you owe me," the calculating look in the diminutive vampire's eyes gave Walter pause.

A shiver ran down his spine, but Walter nodded, holding out his hand as an overly pleased Alucard placed the weapons back onto his hands. He flexed his fingers into his gloves and felt that life couldn't get much better. As he left the washroom, he smiled at Elizabeth. She looked back at him with an open mouth and he wondered why until he heard Alucard's deep voice, "Good morning, your Highness. I trust you've made it through the attack unscathed?" Walter turned back to see the tall vampire coming out of the bathroom looking so much like a living man that Walter almost stumbled.

Elizabeth touched her bruised jaw, but nodded, "As well as can be expected. I must thank you for protecting my sister. She praised your care."

A tight smile crossed Alucard's face before he answered, "It was my pleasure."

Islands was trying, but Arthur could tell he was flinching at the destroyed wreck that was the King's most private chamber. "We're in for it, aren't we?" he asked. Islands didn't say anything, but that was answer enough for Arthur. "Let's go on and see about the ladies." He felt a need to put a positive face on it, like how the rest of the Lodge had managed to avoid much damage, but he held his tongue. Groveling could come later. They walked on in silence, the only sounds were those of servants moving about from room to room, apparently trying to figure out what had happened in their sleep. A scream filtered down the hall as the staff discovered the library.

"Let me do the talking, please Arthur," Islands hoped he could soften the punishment for his old friend. The princesses would certainly listen to their cousin? An almost contrite Hellsing nodded.

When they arrived, both men tried to collect themselves in front of a mirror before opening the door. Neither was quite happy with the result, but Arthur nodded at Islands as he gripped the doorknob, "Here goes nothing."

"Ah, cousin! I was so worried for you!" Islands crossed the damaged carpet to the sitting area where Alucard and the princess seemed to be speaking easily. Surely that was a good sign? Walter stood behind Elizabeth, his hand moving quickly off of her shoulder at the sight of the knights. Islands bowed to her, taking her hand when it was offered for a kiss. "I want to express my regret over your secretary, Ms. Bromberger."

"Sir Islands," the stiff formality in her voice expressed her displeasure. "I understand you have Jameson in custody? Tell me, will you kill him?"

"Oh," he was taken aback by her all business approach, "well, the Convention will convene a secret court and we'll see that he is tried according to the law. A decision will then be made as to-"

"I want him dead." Her eyes were pitiless.

"Ah, well. Yes and we'll most likely make that decision, but-" Islands looked to Arthur for backup as he spoke and the other knight interrupted, "Your Highness, nothing would give me more pleasure. The trial is a formality, I assure you, but it is a necessary step. If the others agree, one of my employees here will be more than happy to carry out your request." Hugh gave Arthur an odd look, but he nodded before looking to his cousin again.

"Why? What's happening to Mr. Jameson? What of Woodruff?" the sleepy voice of Princess Margaret carried into the room as she stood at her doorway, holding on to the frame. No one had heard her approach except for Alucard and he rose bowing to her. She acknowledged him with a dreamy smile.

Arthur crossed the room to offer her his arm, which she took gratefully. "My servant tells me that Woodruff is packing his belongings," he told her, "and intends to leave for a family member's home in South Africa as soon as possible. Apparently he was an unwitting accomplice this night, merely passing along information and he helped with the books, but without understanding what was going on. Jameson, though... he caught us all by surprise." He helped her sit in the space Alucard vacated for her.

"I knew it would be him, sir," all eyes turned to Walter, even Elizabeth craned her neck about to stare at him. He shifted a bit before he added, "Well, it's always the butler, sir. Isn't it?" Humour and insolence added to his smile.

Hellsing's sharp look didn't leave Walter, even after the others had enjoyed a small laugh, "Dornez, why don't you pop back to your room and grab your belongings? We'll need to get the prisoner back quickly to begin interrogation." He turned to the crown princess and the little princess in turn, "I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you ladies soon?"

Margaret blushed and looked at Alucard, but Elizabeth merely smiled a sad smile. She nodded at the men as they left and reached for her sister's hand.

Oooo0oooO

A/N

The proper protocol in addressing the royal family is with their title or ma'am/sir. The proper form for the princesses of York is "Your Highness" (not Royal Highness which is in their full title). Obviously the King and Queen are "Your Majesty," but they do not appear in this story. Most of the characters follow this except Islands, who is family, and Alucard... who is Alucard. This is pure fiction and neither the late Princess Margaret nor the still living Queen Elizabeth II ever had relations with these fictional characters that don't belong to me.

Yes, the Windsors are peculiar with relation to being touched. I dare you to prove me wrong! I think QEII has been touched, uninvited, like 3 times in public. It makes a ripple in the news (an American "She looked like she needed a hug", I think an Aussie and I'm not sure who else). Strangely, she also won't eat in public.

Hospodar is a term for a warrior king or a warlord that would have been used in Vlad Dracula's time. It is Hungarian (I think) but was used regionally for hundreds of years. As a Wallachian elite raised part of his life with the Turks and spending enough time with the Hungarians to marry one of their noblewomen, I figure he knows his way around languages. German was another major language in the region and in chapter 14 he tells his enemy (who never got a name) that her part as dying damsel was "well acted" auf Deutsch. He should know Latin as well, being a good Roman Catholic, but there wasn't a call for it in this story. Voivode is a similar Slavic term but implies being a tributary to the Ottomans, so I figured he'd have preferred the former in her day (kind of 1600-ish), but it was appropriate for the princess to refer to him as such in Ch.3 since his longest reign was established thanks to the Turks.

Boyar is the title for the aristocracy across the region where "the enemy" lived prior to her turning, setting her where I imagined Dracula would hunt. Vlad III was from the ruling prince class and his father and older brother (and the heir presumptive to their father) were killed by a boyar coalition.

In the anime and manga, Alucard seems to reject his past, until the battle and his flashbacks and show us why he is what he is.

Anything else I should comment on? No? Good. Go to bed or get back to studying. Leave a review or PM me if you like.