This idea to pair off Elisabeth Bathory and Alucard came to me a while ago and I`m just testing the waters to see what everyone thinks of it. It takes place in the Hellsing world but also uses the historically true parts of Snow White. I haven`t decided if all the character of Hellsing will be represented in this fanfic, but Alucard will most defiantly be in it and Integra as well if all goes according to plan. It`s been a long time since I read/ watched any of Hellsing so I will not be addressing the main storyline probably at all. Sorry if I botch some culture related information, I`m not from England or Slovakia, I`m just an ignorant American and all the information I find is from the internet, which may not be trustworthy in the first place. Rated M for gore, language, sex and more fun stuff.

Erzsebet Bathory 1614 Hungary (Modern Day Slovakia)

A thin trickle of silver light peaks through the stone wall of Castle Csejthe, allowing me to glimpse the presence of the moon. I yearn to be out in the air of midnight, away from this accursed cell. I should be upstairs with my closest companions, sipping fresh blood blended with wine and watching the fire lash in its hearth, yet this is not so. The sight of their raw burning bodies still lies fresh in my mind and stirs a vengeance within my soul that cannot be quenched within the cage I have found myself in. My own cousin, Thurzo, had them thrown into a fire after witnessing our crimes. A pity they were not so blessed as me, or I might have company in this cell. Helena Jo, my children`s own wet nurse, would have made a lousy Vampiress, her value of life was too great. Her wit would suit my purposes though, as always. Dorca however, had a lust in her cruelty that even I have admired in our past affairs in the cells below my castle. Dorca would gladly share this stone chamber with me and make for amusing company. Even Ficzko would be company cherished here in the pitiful state of loneliness. A lifelong sentence sounds all the more grueling when one has the capacity to live forever and is completely alone.

"It is good for Thurzo that he marked the walls as such," I state to the empty air, running my fingers over the white paint that truly confines me to this stony hell. The thought of biting into the puny veins of his neck makes me dizzy with hunger and I do my best to dismiss it. I am not able to release myself from this cell, even with the powers Darvula gave me so long ago at the start of our escapades. If she were alive still, I may not be in this situation. She would have never let Madelin escape, the little tramp her father dubs "Snow White". . .

My thoughts stray to the dark visitor that would come to me in years past. He seemed so regal, as if some dark prince visited the castle on a random night while my husband was away. Vlad Tepes entranced me with his long raven hair and unflinching crimson eyes. He seemed to enjoy a nude noblewoman bleeding out onto the table: It aroused him as much as I, I think, to see a pair of breasts covered in blood and the owner dying on the dining room furniture. The mysterious man loved me well during every visit until my belly swelled with child. Victor soon arrived, bursting from my womb in a flurry of inhuman screams with talons lashing at my maid. My son was a monster with black cloudy skin, and red eyes glaring from not only his head but his legs and arms and his little ebony chest. Victor killed my maid, sinking his long white fangs into her neck and tearing the head from her shoulders before feasting upon her ripe young flesh minutes after being born. It made me proud to look upon this son, a legacy that wasn`t tainted by my husband`s weak blood. He was filled with the cruelty and madness that brought Vlad and I together, yet the boy`s only likeness to either of us was the red eyes that sprouted from his body. Victor suckled from his father`s finger and grew more human like in his appearance until the monster looks were abashed completely from him. I was left with a handsome boy that looked a small version of his father, chasing after animals and parading them throughout my castle when they had been gutted. That is ages before now, preceding my husband`s death 17 years ago. My son left just after Davula died, vowing to find his father and learn secrets from him that I could not teach him. I am glad he was not here when the pitiful girl, Snow White, came tumbling from my castle with all my secrets. Thurzo would have him in a cell as well, hungry and angry for all eternity, just as I sit now. While I rot behind my own walls, my son will lurk in the open, exacting revenge upon all those who have wronged me. This thought brings me peace, and I hope Vlad will have our son seek vengeance for the punishment I have been given. Until I can be released from this prison, if that even be possible, I will have faith that Victor will follow in his mother`s footsteps.

341 years later- 1945 Cachtice, Slovakia. Elisabeth Bathory`s Castle

The walls tremble and crack, as if hit by an unseen force. I feel the spell that binds me to this prison break as a metal hammer lodges itself in the stone, but I cannot move in my weakness. A man in thin green clothing appears through the dust. He speaks in German to others outside, gesturing to my wraith-like body. Another man enters the small chamber from behind him, clad in a thin white undershirt and green trousers that match the other man. Clumsily, he trips over a stone and falls face first toward the uneven ground. The hand that is out to brace his fall snaps as it makes contact with the floor, the bone pushing out of his skin and blood running onto the stones about my legs. A mere drop lands on my pale foot, the blood absorbing into my skin at once. It is so small, but enough. I reach for the wounded man and sink my teeth into his jugular. His blood is sweet on my tongue and I drink from him as a man dying of thirst does water. He is empty within a minute. As I pull away from the fallen victim, his comrade lurches at me, comprehension dawning at last. I am stronger now and move out of his way easily. This savior is not so sweet as my first treat, but I feel his strength within me, the blood rich and pulsing in my belly as I have been without for centuries. The ruin about me is surely not my castle; it exists as merely a pile of stone compared to the exquisite conditions I left it in. I break from my cell at last to explore the new night that approaches. Only a glimpse of the sun remains, making an early morning for me. Still, lights blaze in the town in odd hues, inviting my presence. From this tower, I can tell the town has grown immensely since my rein. Men yell from behind, probably realizing that two of their own are dead. It matters not. I will find Madelin Thurzo, and anyone related to her, and I will sip upon their blood as I was meant to years ago. You are mine Snow White.

.

.

Willow Nota, 2013, London, England

"I know the stories, but you never said you were related to the woman!" Andrea says sipping her beer drunkenly.

"Grandmother used to say that Madelin was Bathory`s 2nd cousin or something? Yeah that sounds right. It was her father that walled the crazy bitch in her tower."

"I thought we found that the Grimm`s Snow White came from Spain originally?" Andrea pants, pulling her long brown hair from her flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, but the name and the stepmother were very much based on Elisabeth, according to grandmother. That was what they called Madelin, Snow White, and of course, the stepmother`s obsession with beauty and blood is from the Hungarian lengend."

"No dwarves then either?" Mark asks slipping an arm around me.

"Well, supposedly Bathory had a henchman that was a dwarf that used to cut up the girls, but that's the only one that I`ve heard of. Those originate from the Spanish tale, I believe." More people gather around our little circle, interested in hearing the true story of Disney`s famous tale, Snow White. My skin prickles with uneasiness, for the tale has never charmed me and I feel odd about speaking it here.

"She has that look, like Snow White does!" Mark exclaims as if he said something worthwhile. My peers laugh with him and note my appearance as well. It`s defiantly not the first time a person has noticed. When my friends and I chose what fairytale we belonged to in Elementary School, I was always picked to be Snow White. It gets awfully annoying when I`d much rather be a Mulan or Esmeralda, but I have since gotten over that. Besides, why fret over a stupid game?

Mark nuzzles his face into my shoulder while his hand snakes around to rub my belly. There`s lust in his brown eyes when he looks at me. His desire doesn`t bother me: I rather think that it is one of his few useful qualities. If one considers the ability to get hard in an instant a quality. A soft kiss meets mine, the bitter taste of alcohol drifting through our open mouths. Mark pulls away, winking at a friend of his that stands behind me. He likes to flaunt that we fuck to all of his friends as if it were some big accomplishment. If every man acted the same way, there are quite a few who would flaunt that prize.

"I think we should get out of here, Will. All this talk of Snow White and Princes kind of makes me wanna-" I place a kiss over his mouth before he can finish speaking. Really, who gets horny over the tale of some bloodthirsty bitch? I suppose I am hypocritical in that, since I am wanton of the princely boy as well. Gold hair and soft loving brown eyes, I think we could have something if the boy wasn`t so dimwitted. A medical student, this idiot`s going to be a brain surgeon someday! He`s quite book smart and remembers everything he hears, yet his sense of the real world is off. He can`t understand why I have to work to stay in school, for example. Mark pulls me away from the party in Andrea`s flat towards the hall. With his hands roaming over me I can`t concentrate well on my thoughts and I stop trying. After the door closes, he gropes my breasts, pushing me up against the wall. I think he would fuck me out here in the open if I have the guts to let him. I don`t.

"Hold your horses buddy. I`m only two minutes down the street from here." He groans in irritation but lets me lead him down the stairs and out into the night. We are nearly to the dark green house when Mark lifts me onto his thick shoulders. After a playful slap to my butt, he snatches the keys from my back pocket and inserts them into the lock. Even in his drunken state he steps over the hole in my entryway. I slide my red shirt over my head and remove my shorts, before running up the stairs. Mark chases after, as I expected, pulling clothes off as he walks. He places a hand on the banister and it wobbles dangerously, threatening to fall. I undo my lacy black bra, holding it out before him in triumph. I throw it in his face and run away again, up another flight of stairs. My flats come off at the top and I hurry towards my room. Mark catches me at the doorway pushing me to the hardwood floor. His clothes are gone, lost somewhere in our game, and already his hard cock pushes against my thigh. Mark`s hot mouth kisses the spot behind my ear, tasting and teasing the spot until I can hold back moans no longer. He moves to my breast and looks up at me watching me squirm as his tongue rolls gently over my nipple. Softly he bites and I pull at his hands, wanting them to do something, anything. My prince obliges, running a finger over my already soaked opening before pushing it in.

"Mark!" My voice rings shrill about the house but I don`t care amid this ecstasy. He knows what I want, but keeps going until I say it. "Please, uh, ah! I w-want you!" With a snide smirk, he brings his penis to my mouth before lowering himself and granting my wish. He teases my clit with his cock trying to draw out sex, but I want him too much. I push myself down onto him before he can stop me until he gives up, thrusting in and out as I want him to. He is merciless. The thrust of his hips is hard and fast hitting me deep inside. He rolls over so I can be on top and I ride as he did, leaning back and feeling every ridge and curve of his erect penis. Mark latches on to my other breast, knowing there is no need to guide me. I feel a heat burning deep down in the depths of me, spurning me on even though my knees chaff against the wood of the floor. I can tell Mark is on the brink as well and I move in flurried circles, causing my partner to shout and moan and try to stop me, but he pulls out and cums anyways knowing that I`ve driven him over the edge, a puddle of white spilling upon the floor. The prince kisses me before he runs to grab a towel from the bathroom and clean the mess up.

"I`m not done with you yet," Mark says tossing the towel somewhere into the darkness and pulling my hips to his.

"Good, I might have been angry if you had just left me hanging," I joke back, kissing his tan shoulder. He picks me up and takes me to my bed, the destination all along. A finger snakes inside me once again, finding the spot he knows I love and rocking the digit against it. He puts me there suddenly, orgasm hitting me hard and wracking my body as the heavenly spasms take control. My head lolls back and I see it in the through the glass. A pair of red eyes in the window, studying, watching my euphoria while the face is shaded by the black night. I pull away from Mark, still panting, to walk towards the see-through frame. There are no red eyes, nor unfamiliar shadows. I must have imagined the man sitting in the tree with the crimson eyes.

. . .

I don`t see Mark much since he attends University at the other side of town. Newham`s medical school keeps him busy. Mostly, I busy myself with work at East Ham`s Bakery, cake decorating. This is a passion of mine, one of the few things I wouldn`t mind doing for the rest of my life. It pays the bills for my dad`s old house, but not renovations I`m sad to say. The huge green house is falling apart. A creaky board here and there turned into holes after a while and the bad cement in the basement caused the place to flood. Who knew such little problems escalated into big ordeals? If Dad was still in England he would know what to do, but America suits him better apparently. That`s what I gather from his letters anyway. I sit at home watching Dr. Who reruns until 6:30 comes around. If I stay much longer I will be late for school. My bag is ready by the door and I hurry out just as sunset approaches. The walk to the Community Education building is not long, 15 minutes at the most, and I relish the time to enjoy the early evening. With reluctance, I remove myself from the sight of the purple sky to go to class. It is expected that entry level statistics is boring, but Andrea keeps me busy helping her with some equations at the back of class while our teacher drones on and on about normal distribution. I`m rather good at understanding numbers, that`s why Andrea asked me to take this class with her. I needed it anyways, even if my degree is only in liberal arts. Two and half hours later we walk out into the night, a pale slip of the moon showing, and campus mostly empty.

"I wish I was that good with math," Andrea says gripping my arm tenderly.

"I wish I was a good swimmer, you don`t see me complaining." My friend nudges me slightly.

"Don`t be like that, Willow. I`m glad you can help, I just wish you didn`t have to, ya`know? I just need this one class and I`m through with math for the rest of University." She fumbles in her bag for something before starting to panic. "I must have left my phone in the room, I`ll be back ok?" I move to follow her but she waves me off, leaving me alone in the cold night. I lean against the side of the building waiting for her to come back. Many of my classmates walk by, some waving or yelling a quick goodbye, but one stranger lurks among the rest. He walks by leisurely as if checking out the college behind the raybans that shield his eyes.

"Can I help you?" I call towards the mysterious man. His gaze focuses on me and he seems to be calculating the right answer.

"I was checking out some classes here. Got a bit lost." The man shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly as he talks of his misfortune.

"Where are you headed?" I ask, curious about the stranger.

"I was looking for the ah, Geology department but. . ." he trails off, allowing me to come to my own conclusion. I hear a slight accent in his voice as he draws nearer. I appears rarely, the ch words sounding more like sh and the t sounds pronounced as few people from this area do. Under the street light he is handsome with chiseled, sharp features and dark hair that falls into his eyes often. He is pale, even more than I am oddly enough and much taller. His looming figure shrouds me in darkness as we speak.

"That would explain why you`re lost; It`s not even on this campus. If you head North on Lorin Drive for a few miles the Geology department is there. The first building on the right when you enter the campus, in fact." The smile that graces his face is sly and sexy, though not allowing me a look at the man`s teeth. "I`m Willow by the way," I say, deciding that I like this stranger.

"Victor," the deep voice says, offering me a hand to shake.

"Do you always wear sunglasses at night?"

"You will never catch me without them," Victor says, smile growing. "How long have you went here?"

"Three years. I should finish up my degree next spring, unless I change my mind again. . ."

"Again?"

"Don`t ask. Where are you from? You`re accent is different than the usual dialects around here. I`m having trouble placing it." I feel like I`m prying. He doesn`t seem to mind, but seems rather glad that I have the sudden interest.

"Take a guess." He folds his arms ready for my answer.

"It seems eastern European. Possibly Romanian but more familiar. I still can`t place it though."

"I`m impressed, you`re very close, but not Romanian, I`m afraid. I`m from Slovakia."

"Odd, your accent is different than my grandmothers. . ." I say glancing up at the angled features of the man.

"I`ve moved around frequently since being born there. What part is your family from?"

"Cachtice. They moved to England in the forties."

"Ah, that`s a famous place with the Čachtický hrad. A tourist trap now," he sighs longingly. "It`s a very beautiful city, known for all the wrong reasons. I`m sure your aware of its history, heard the tales from your grandmother?"

"Of course." When Victor says no more, I urge him on. "Do you think she did all that?"

"That she killed all those women? Maybe. Some think that she was framed so the King could steal her land." He places a finger under his chin and thinks for a second. "Being one of Madelin`s descendant's, you probably believe she was a murderer, yes?"

"I think they are tales told far too much. They are the past why bring them up?" He laughs at my statement, a loud bellow rippling through his broad chest.

"The past can hold many keys," he says, the accent slipping through more and more as he speaks. He grasps my chin in a pale hand suddenly, leaning down to whisper in my ear. "Be careful what you will find in it, little Willow." I shouldn`t just let him be so intimate with me, but my attraction to this mysterious guy is hard to ignore, especially with his closeness. The way his tongue accentuates every letter in my name so vividly turns me on more than I care to admit, but it cannot be helped. As quickly as we met, he drifts away from me, leaving a faint musky smell behind.

"How did you know I was related to her?" I shout too late, Victor`s form retreating into the night he slips into, as if he were a ghost.