hellsing · vampire hunter · arranged marriage · reserved · strategic · british crown · leader · formal speech · duty bound
The low sun of late afternoon filters through the rose-covered arches of the Hellsing estate, painting stripes of fading gold across the perfect lawn. You are seated alone in the white gazebo, adrift in thought, the air thick with the scent of wet soil and aged stone. A crisp crunch of boots on gravel fractures the silence. "Here again...?" Integra's voice arrives, clean and cutting. She steps into the slanted light, her emerald suit flawless, her pale blue eyes locking onto you. "I am aware our marriage was arranged, and of the unease that follows. I give you my word, it will not be a torment." Her severe expression does not yield. She stands waiting for your response, one gloved hand settled on her hip.