Hellsing Fan Fiction ❯ San Graal ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

Mew here. . . . .I haven't written anything serious for the genre in a while, and this idea should hopefully change all of that. If characters seem familiar from earlier works of mine, then obviously, you've read Distance. But here's the one that most of you didn't know- The Distance on ff.net is NOT the real story I wanted to write. San Graal, this fic, is my original idea.

So reviewers, RIP THIS APART. I want honest criticism, feedback as to whether or not it is worthwhile, if this is way too far from canon to even be done, all of that. If you like it, tell me why. If you hate it, same thing- give me reasons.

Can't wait to hear from you.

"Yes. They have powers that let them tear through men like rags. They are cunning and smart, and operate with their own unknowable inhuman logic. That is the vampire. Do you understand, Integra? The vampire is an intelligent blood-drinking demon. The task appointed to our family is to protect the Queen, Great Brittan, and the Church of England from the machinations of these fearful creatures. We are called upon to be a Holy shield, and sometimes a righteous sword. We have inherited this honor from the many noble knights and secret sects that have preceded us, and we gladly accept this sacred office."

Sir Hellsing, Master of Monster

Blue eyes blinked open upon the immediate blaze of electric light flooding the library taking in the blurry outline of the well-dressed middle aged man standing in the doorway. The elder's grey eyes showed his concern, his arms folded across his chest only accented his mood.

"Sir Hellsing, your six o'clock meeting has already arrived and is waiting in your office. Please do be prompt for your appointments, especially those with Sir Radclyffe."

The boy sighed, removing the ancient tome from his lap and placing it on the table next to him, neglecting a bookmark to save his place in the nearly two-thousand page work. He did not speak yet, closing his eyes once again as he adjusted the blue tie that hung loosely around his neck; a plain silver cross pinned just below the knot signifying his Order, his sacred duty.

"Thank you for waking me. Please bring tea and snacks to the meeting in ten minutes, Steven."

"Of course, sir." The middle aged retainer of the Hellsing family bowed politely to his young master before hurrying toward the kitchen.

Mocha hands quickly untangled ebony hair before the boy moved from his seat, stretching all of his nearly two meter frame with a groan as he walked toward the office shared by every one of his ancestors, hands shoved deep in black trouser pockets.

Sir Aiden Hellsing was just beginning his tenure as ordained leader of His Majesty's Hellsing Organization, having been knighted only two months prior. The son of Integral Devries fully understood the role he was to play in his mortal existence, but without a proper tutor in the ways of the occult, he would be nothing more than his grandfather had been to the Organization, a purely symbolic figurehead dependant on a vampire to do his bidding.

He was not the youngest leader of the Organization, taking command at fifteen. That honor belonged to his grandmother, Integral Wingates. His grandfather was the eldest of all recent commanders at his starting age of twenty-two.

"Aiden, I thought you asked me to be here specifically at six. I've been waiting for a half hour."

Smiling, the boy moved to the side of the desk opposite the strawberry haired man, sitting in a high-backed green velvet covered chair. Charles Radclyffe, Charlie, was not the typical Round Table Conference member. His hair was long, pulled back in a tight pony tail that descended to the middle of his back, despite his age and status.

Had this been a century prior, the knight's refusal to shorten his hair would have been considered a throwback to the Beatles generation, but Charlie was only in his forties, and the year was 2101. The 1960's were nothing but a topic to be covered in level seven history class.

"Am I keeping you from a Scottish Rite meeting?"

The smirk was infectious, crossing both men's features before laughter engulfed the room, only stopping as the Hellsing Retainer entered with a tray of scones and tea, not resuming after the only occupants of the room were the boy and his tutor.

Sir Hellsing waited for the elder to take his scone before relaxing once again, a curious extended canine peeking between rose-petal lips.

"Aiden, you know that of all people involved in or with the Scottish Rite, you are the one that needs the teachings of my ancestors more than anyone else, for it is in you that all our hope rests. Our king will never ascend to the throne unless we can have a new army of Holy Knights in our ranks."

"And yet your ancestors have not been able to convince an army to join your cause since the twelfth century." The smirk spread, revealing another extended canine between his lips, mocha hands now resting on the mahogany surface of the desk. "Tell me why it is your former knights refused to stay in your service?"

"They have forgotten the mysteries given to my people. That was the reason for their destruction."

Dark tea passed over rose-petal lips, eliciting a sigh from the boy, blue pools reading into the depths of the soul across from him. "So what do I have to gain in forsaking my King and my Church, dear friend? While your lessons are interesting enough, I see no reason in serving Sion and the Merovingian dynasty. I will lose my title, my lands, and my honor as a rightful heir to the most honorable Hellsing family if I pledge my men and my life to you." Setting the cup on its saucer, the boy folded his hands in front of him yet again. "Besides, mum would have my head for such blasphemy."

"Because, Aiden, it is through the Holy Grail that your ancestor Abraham was allowed to take our place as the shield and sword against the supernatural and occult threats that plagued the United Kingdom."