Author's Notes: I have fixed all the old errors, so it should read more smoothly.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or the song "Cry Little Sister."

Disclaimer: Much of the content of this fic was inspired by "The Cost of Dying" by darknessfollows.

The Gathering had begun, and the vampires were in full sway. Their silken dresses fluttered like flower pedals as they spun. Their shimmering masks glowed like candles as they danced. Laughter tinkled like flowing water in that river of sensual merriment. Stars hung like diamonds in the sky, and chandeliers imitated their glory in the fray.

Mercenary Pip Bernadette monitored the door as more aristocratic looking vampires filed in. The Boss often said "The one who kills a monster is always man," and so Pip had been hired a long time ago to guard the castle against hostile vampires. (And plenty of vampires felt hostile toward the Boss). His job tonight was to make sure that no enemies came through, though he was damned if he knew friend from foe.

Tinkling laughter caught his attention, and Pip found himself looking back at the dance floor.

In the moonlight opposite of him were three young women, ladies by their dress and manner. Like all the vampires in the room, they threw no shadow on the floor. They came close to him, and whispered together. Two were dark, and had great dark piercing eyes that seemed to be almost red when contrasted with the pale yellow moon. The other was fair, with great masses of golden hair and eyes like pale sapphires. All three had brilliant white teeth that shone like pearls against the ruby of their voluptuous lips.

There was something about them that always made him uneasy, some longing and at the same time some deadly fear. They whispered together, and then they all three laughed, such a silvery, musical laugh, but as hard as though the sound never could have come through the softness of human lips. It was like the intolerable, tingling sweetness of water glasses when played on by a cunning hand. The fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged her on.

"And how do you fair this night, Mr. Bernadette?" she said in a voice that was sweet as honey.

Pip nodded to her curtly. "I have not been bitten yet, so I think I fair alright."

To this the women laughed a light tinkling melody of coquetry that made him faint to hear. Pip had not forgotten what had almost happened the night they met. Yet whenever they saw him they would draw him into conversation, and laugh at him always, like his voice stimulated a private joke amongst each other. Or perhaps it was his accent.

Either way Pip did not have time for them, and went back to monitoring the room.

"She is not here," said one in a sing-song voice.

"I dunno what you're talking about," he grunted.

"Your precious mignonette is not down yet," said another.

"But once she is…"

"Tonight shall be her initiation!"

"Master will be so pleased with her!"

They laughed again, their tirade of tinkling laughter, faintly cruel in its sickly sweetness, and disappeared into the dance floor, their dresses swaying in the fray.

Pip snorted loudly, and lit a cigarette, tried to ignore their mocking implications. Of course he knew what the mignonette was, there was no denying that, but he still looked forward to seeing her. All the silk and satin ballroom gowns with glittering masks of all styles only made him wonder how his own angel would appear.

Suddenly the music began again, a pounding of drums that imitated the human heart, and he saw her. She was dressed in a white muslin gown, tied round the waist with a blue sash, and she had white lilies in her hair. She was not wearing a mask, though her pretty face was painted with glitter, and so her clear blue eyes sparkled all the brighter in the starlight. She was the very picture of innocence and purity.

Suddenly Pip remembered a conversation (of sorts) he had had with the Brides once.

"Only a virgin can be successfully turned," they said.

"Oh really," Pip had replied. "So then how were you all turned into vampires?"

They had thought this was a charming display of wit, and had laughed, that tinkling laugh that he knew would haunt him to the grave. One had thrown back her head in merriment, exposing her slender neck and generous cleavage, and said in a seductive purr, "Master has taught us everything we know."

Pip had raised an eyebrow, and whistled loudly. "That much, eh?"

Still they thought his cynicism very amusing, and had laughed their cruel laughter.

"The human is only jealous because he is impotent," said one.

"I've seen the way he looks upon the Police Girl," said another.

"He wishes to share with her all of his knowledge," said the fair.

"But he never will," said the first.

"Master will teach her," said another, "just as he taught us."

"She is stubborn now," said the fair, "but she will learn, and she will love it as we do."

"She will be our sister yet," said the first again, and they all laughed again at this.

Presently the music beat more loudly, a sinister rhythm that excited a hidden adrenaline. The female vampires began to dance in a great circle, their graceful figures swaying with the beat. Their long skirts swirled as they danced, their masks exciting intrigue in their play.

The Brides danced together; they smiled ever at poor Seras Victoria. Their laugh came through the pounding of the music; they twined their arms and pointed to her, and said in those so tingling tones that were of the intolerable sweetness of the water glasses, "Sister! Sister! Come to us! Sister!"

But Seras would not come. She had resisted temptation for so long that she would not, could not see herself as one of them. With the bang of another drum she turned her head away, and found her place in another part of the circle.

Skirts swirled and Seras twirled with them. Though she danced beautifully to the beat, Seras did not look like the others. With the flowing white frock she wore, Seras looked more like a nymph than a vampire. She was a lamb in a pack of wolves.

Pip snorted loudly, 'To think, that the one vampire who could trip over a grain of rice could dance so gracefully here among her "sisters."'

A great beat of the drum seemed to ripple through their bodies. Human servants danced among the vampires, and their presence ignited a sensual hunger that brought a new flavor to the dance. The scent of their blood turned Seras's clear blue eyes a dark shade of red.

A deep male voice rang out:

"A last fire will rise behind those eyes
Black house will rock, blind boys don't lie"

The males stepped forward, selected their mates and twirled them. The females' great whooshing skirts covered the dance floor.

Suddenly a tall, dark male dressed in all black came onto the dance floor. Everything about him radiated a dark sensual confidence; powerful and cruel. The females continued their dance as before, but made sure never to cross paths with the dark one. The males backed off, and let the females continue without interference.

"Immortal fear, that voice so clear
Through broken walls, that scream I hear"

The dark male was looking right at Seras, and she knew it. She was more shaken over his presence than the others. She looked as if she wanted to scream or cry with fear, but she stayed silent, and twirled her way back into the circle. The drums continued, loud, imposing, and the girls lost themselves to it.

The deep male voice rang out:

"Cry little servant"

And Seras, along with all the women, chanted softly:

"Thou shall not fall"

The deep male voice cried out:

"Come to your master"

And all the women chanted:

"Thou shall not die"

The deep male voice cried out:

"Unchain me, servant"

Seras turned from the male that approached her,

And she and all the other females chanted:

"Thou shall not fear"

The male stood where she had been,

Reaching out his hand out to her:

"Love is with your master"

And all the females broke from their males,

And Seras joined them in chanting:

"Thou shall not kill"

The drums pounded again, and the females rippled to the beat. That sea of masks parted like the Red Sea for the dark male. Everyone knew who he was: the King of Vampires, the Master of Their Souls. There was not a single Nosferatu in that ballroom that was not turned by him, or turned by one who was his. No one had ever drunk their freedom from this tyrant, and so they all belonged to him, in one way or another.

But currently the No Life King was watching the innocent nymph, who turned away from him.

"Blue masquerade, strangers look on
When will they learn this loneliness?"

The No Life King approached Seras, and she stood in dread as he came. She looked like all she wanted to do was run, but her feet remained rooted to the spot. Her master had called to her, and she could not refuse him any more than she could refuse the gravity that pulled her to the ground. Finally he reached her, she turned and they began to dance together.

"Temptation heat beats like a drum
Deep in your veins, I will not lie"

The drums beat more loudly, and Seras looked up at her master. Slowly her fear gave way to her longing, and her normally clear eyes clouded a deep shade of red, her voluptuous lips parting slightly. That normally virtuous girl made herself rather cheap by inclining her face slowly upward.

Suddenly that voice ran out:

"Little servant"

And Seras came to her senses, and pulled away.

The others chanted, and she, reminding herself:

"Thou shall not fall"

The male demanded:

"Come to your master"

But Seras turned away:

"Thou shall not die"

The male cried out:

Unchain me servant"

Seras and the other twirled away.

They chanted, almost to each other:

"Thou shall not fear"

The males reminded them:

"Love is with your master"

But the girls turned to the males,

Almost reminding them accusingly:

"Thou shall not kill"

Pip remembered a conversation he'd had with Seras once. It had been on an unusually clear night like this, during a new moon. They sat on a roof gazing at the stars, and Seras had told him gently of how she'd been turned. She came to Romania to relax because she'd heard the Carpathian Mountains were beautiful, and she'd wanted to take a break from all the hustle and bustle of the city. But things took a turn for the worst when she'd been kidnapped outside her hotel; beaten, tortured. By the time her fate was put back into her hands it was too late, and all she could do was make a snap decision between survival and oblivion. She had been forced to make her quick decision, and now she must live with it forever.

The drums continued more forcefully, and the females swayed in their circle with the rhythm.

Eventually the drums relented, and a great organ began to blare. The sheer power (volume) of the music caught all the dancers completely unprepared. The males caught up to their females, and swept them into a rhythm of their own.

Seras was no longer able to flee her master, and so instead she faced him, curtsied to him, and he bowed to her, and they began to dance slowly. His tall muscular figure towered over hers, and she looked again as if she would rather be anywhere than where she was, and so their dancing looked more like an act of submission on her part than a consensual tryst on theirs.

Her master pulled her close, and even she seemed drawn by the desire in his eyes, as their faces inched closer.

"My Shangri-La
I can't forget
Why you were mine
I need you now"

Whoever that male who sang was had a powerful set of lungs. Just cranking out the word "now" lasted a good thirty seconds. Pip had to remind himself that these were vampires; undead, unhuman, ageless, lifeless vampires that could sing for as long as they wanted without stopping to breathe.

Regardless, Seras and her Master's lips remained locked through the entire note. The Master's arms supported the small of Seras's back as he lowered her into a deep dip, but the choice remained up to her to bring them closer. Their bodies were mere centimeters apart, and it would be easy, so easy to wind her arms around his neck and pull their bodies together as one.

But Seras was used to resisting temptation, and she controlled her instincts, so when the time came to part she tore away from her Master.

The male voice practically cheered:

"Cry little servant"

And Seras and the other girls chanted almost in victory:

"Thou shall not fall"

And the male voice cried out:

"Come to your master"

But Seras and the girls flicked their heads triumphantly:

"Thou shall not die"

And the male voice practically pleaded:

"Unchain me servant"

But Seras and the girls smiled widely, as if to themselves:

"Thou shall not fear"

And the male voice cried out in a last ditch effort:

"Love is with your master"

But Seras and the girls waged their fingers, and admonished lightly:

"Thou shall not kill"

And the drums pounded again, and the females turned away from their males, and twirled and swirled within their own circle, chanting more choruses of "Thou shall not" without a care in the world.

As the drumming began to die down, and the choruses began to quiet, Seras stole by Pip briefly. Despite himself, his breath hitched when her clear blue eyes locked onto his—but Pip would not allow himself to think further. He knew that, somewhere on the dance floor, the Boss was watching them.

Pip smiled briefly and nodded curtly, for appearances sake; though his eye silently congratulated her for her triumph.

Seras beamed openly at this, and twirled her skirt happily, and with a laugh she jumped back into the dance without missing a step.

Pip just shook his head, and lit another cigarette bemusedly.

Maybe the Brides were right; maybe someday Seras wouldn't be able to resist the call of her Master any longer. Maybe someday she would give into that longing he knew she felt, and finally allow herself to learn from her Master "all she needed to know." But after the way she held herself up tonight, to have a girl like that would… Naw, Seras was a good girl. Even if she did give in to the desires that she would otherwise resist, she would never allow herself to be lost to them like those horrible Brides were.

Seras might stumble, yes, but she would never fall.