Prologue

One year earlier

"What the hell, Trick? Where's Arthur?"

"Wasn't he with you?"

"No! I thought he went off with you, you bleedin' idiot!"

"Shut it, Robin, the Hellhounds will hear you if you keep squawking like that."

"Fine, Scott."

"You bet it's fine. Now, Trick, where the hell is Arthur? You were supposed to be watching his back. It's bloody dangerous out here."

"Shh, shut up, Scott."

"Robin-"

"I mean it! Listen for one bleedin' second!"

"Bloody hell."

"You said it. Trick, Robin, move your arses, something's got Arthur."

…

Pain. That was all he really knew. He wasn't in pain. He was pain. It had swallowed him whole, tearing and shredding him from the inside out in one hot, burning inferno of agony. No, wait, that was just the Hellhound annihilating his torso. It continued for what seemed like ages, until the pain dulled and his sight, which had been dimming, was completely gone. Now, instead of blazing lashes of hurt, it was more of a distant, intense throbbing. Everything had gone sort of white and fuzzy in his mind, even his physical torment. That should have been a relief. Instead it just terrified him. It meant he was dying.

Arthur Kirkland did not want to die. He was twenty-two, he had just barely started life, why the hell should he lose it now? He knew it was childish to lie on the forest floor, a failed hunter, dying and still only managing to think about how unfair it all was. But still, the world needed to cut him some slack. He was bloody dying after all.

If he could still feel his throat, he would have laughed. How ironic that he had loved the Hound of the Baskervilles as a child. After all, the creature that hound had been modeled after was his murderer. It was poetic justice, if he were feeling like a pun. He really wasn't. Oncoming death does not put one into a punny mood.

His breath was fading, rasping and failing in his chest as his life fluttered against its mortal fetters. Distantly he heard the chiming of bells, the high, tinny voices of his fairy friends raised in distress. That made him sad. As much as he didn't want to die, he really didn't want his faithful friends to be sad about him dying. They would miss him, he knew. His brothers couldn't see them, and the high Court of Fairie was just another collection of monsters for the elder Kirklands to hunt. The little will-o-wisps and such that had been Arthur's constant companions since infancy were too small and innocent to constitute a threat to his brothers. They were safe from the hunters. But they would be lonely without him. Who would play electric guitar for them, or bake them scones (since they seemed to be the only ones who appreciated his cooking), or sing old folk songs to them when one else was listening?

Suddenly even more melancholy about his impending death, Arthur almost didn't hear the soft, feminine voice next to his ear.

"Do you wish to continue?"

Arthur would have blinked, had he been able to feel his eyelids.

The voice repeated itself. "Do you wish to continue?"

"Continue where?" Arthur's voice rattled and rasped, his inflection already sounding corpse-like.

"On the journey all men make when they flee the mortal frame."

"No."

"There is another way. A way to remain here."

"Fine."

"Do you give me permission, human boy?"

"Ye-" his voice failed him. His breath stopped. He could feel his spirit slipping from his body. He could feel something loosening and casting him adrift. As if from very far away, he could hear voices echoing around his body.

"There is not much time. Do it, my queen."

"Do not presume to command me, Peaseblossom."

"Yes, Lady Titania."

"Fetch Lord Oberon and Queen Mab. If we are to save the boy all of us must be present. He is lucky that it is the full moon and we are at the height of our power, else this would not work. Bring Puck as well, he will seal the ceremony."

"Yes, Lady Titania."

Then the world warped and twisted around him and Arthur remembered no more.

…

One year later

"Mummy, who is he? Why are we picking up a strange man? Is he going to stay with us? He's not going to get my room, is he?!" A high, childish voice stabbed through Arthur's dream, puncturing the bubble of his sleep and banishing any dreams of that night.

"Shh, Peter, he's sleeping. The airplane ride was very hard on him."

The kid was not buying this, "Why? Airplanes are easy. Unless you're flying them. Then I guess they're kind of hard. But not much. All you have to do there is sit there and BAM! You're there. Although it does take a bloody long time to get anywhere."

"Peter! Language!"

"Why, Mummy? You talk like that all the time."

"It doesn't mean that you can, mister."

"Fine, Mummy. Who is he, anyway? He's got GIANT eyebrows."

"Peter! That's your Uncle Arthur, and yes, he will be staying with us for a while, so be nice."

Peter, bored with explanations from his mother, started poking Arthur in the face, "Hey, mister, why are your eyebrows so big?"

Deciding that sleep was clearly not to be an option at this point, Arthur sat up with a groan. Rubbing his hands down his face and peering through is fingers, he examined Peter. The kid was strapped into the seat on the far side of the vehicle from Arthur, as Arthur had been using the middle seat as a headrest. He had sandy blond hair a few shades darker than Arthur's own golden locks, and eyebrows that, quite frankly, nearly rivaled the adult's for bushiness. The boy looked to be about six and was obviously fascinated with the new addition to their motor vehicle.

Motor vehicle. Right, he was still in a car. That would explain his nausea and pounding headache. Feeling like he was about to vomit, or pass out, or possibly both, Arthur curled in on himself, pulling away from any bit or bob in the car's interior that might be made of metal. Knees tucked up to his chest, face buried in his legs, Arthur tried to breathe.

"Hey, mister, you okay?" the kid, Peter asked, sounding far too fascinated with Arthur's discomfort for Arthur to feel like he was receiving any real sympathy.

"How much longer?" Arthur grumbled.

"Arthur-" the woman in the driver's seat began.

"How much longer?" Arthur said, with slightly more force.

"Twenty minutes, thirty tops." She admitted.

"Rosa, stop the car." Arthur demanded, voice flat and ill-sounding.

"Arthur-"

"Please" he whispered.

She stopped the car. Arthur bolted out of it; not even minding that the touch of the seatbelt buckle on his bare arm left a large welt or that accidentally pressing his palm against the car door resulted in an angry red burn. Once free of that infernal contraption, Arthur ran. He bolted from the vehicle, dashing into a row of grapevines on trellises, stopping in the midst of the vineyard, just breathing in the wild California air, free of the horrible metallic tang of iron he could feel scorching his throat in the car.

When Rosa and Peter caught up to him, he looked them both in the eye and said, "From here, I'm walking. On foot. No more cars."

A sympathetic look flickered over Rosa's face. She patted his arm and said, "Alright, call me or Francis when you get in town and one of us will show you the way to the house. Just no fighting with my husband. He may be a touchy-feely Frog, but he's mine."

Peter just narrowed his blue eyes up at him and said, loud and clear, "You're weird."

Arthur laughed. "You don't know the half of it, kid."

….

BANG!

Amelia grunted quietly, absorbing the shotgun's sharp recoil as she shot off another round of rock salt at the snarling kappa. The demon-horse squealed and plunged away, making a break for the lake, crushing twigs and leaves beneath its hooves as it plunged through the forest.

"Ludwig! Kiku! It's trying to get to the water! Cut it off!" Amelia barked, voice cracking through the air the same way the shotgun had minutes before.

"Hai, sheriff-san," Kiku's voice was soft, but somehow it seemed to be right next to Amelia's ear. The young sheriff just nodded acknowledgement to the Japanese man's words and continued to scan the trees for threats from more water-horses. Behind her Chiara stood at the ready, pistol ready to shoot.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Both women froze, listening to the sound of hooves against the soft forest floor.

"Shit," Chiara breathed, summing up Amelia's thoughts perfectly.

"Back to back," Amelia instructed, Chiara already moving into the formation with practiced ease.

Now better able to see the rest of the forest, the women warily scanned the trees for the kappa they had heard. Silence, tense and heavy blanketed them. The sound of their breathing overlaid by the distant noises of Kiku and Ludwig cornering the first kappa were the only noises that dared to interrupt the stillness. Until…

A perky Italian pop tune shattered the silence of the forest, and most likely Amelia's eardrums as well. She had to grit her teeth to resist the urge to grab the phone emitting that ghastly sound and crush it. The only thing she was undecided on in her iPhone-destruction fantasy was whether its demise was brought about due to its insufferable ring tone or the fact that it had gone off in the middle of a hunt and might just get them both killed by a carnivorous demon-horse.

"Chiara," Amelia hissed out of the corner of her mouth, "Are you going to get that or just keep cursing at it and hoping whoever it is will give up?"

Chiara, who had indeed simply been uttering a long string of profanities at the unfortunate device, ground her teeth and snatched it out of her back pocket, and pressed the 'respond' button. "What the hell, Feli, I'm working." There was a pause. "Like hunting a big-ass kappa and its mean-as-all-freaking-hell buddy, that kind of work, idiot!" The pause this time was longer, "WHAT DID HE SAY?!" she yelped, barely remembering to keep her squawking to lower levels as not to give their position away to the rampaging kappas.

"Fine, fine," she attempted to resolve the problem. The was another pause and Amelia could practically hear Feli getting frantic and worked up on the other end of the line, Chiara attempted to smother the insanity that was her little brother, with only limited success. "Yes, Feli, I will go over there. When? Well, as soon as Ally and I shoot this horsey bastard up with rocksalt and iron, then I'll head over to the vineyards. No, I'm not saying 'I love you' over the phone, only sissy bitches do that. Feli, that wasn't a compliment. Whatever. Bye, little bro." Chiara snapped the phone closed and shoved it back in her back pocket.

"Do you mind swinging by the family vineyards as soon as we're done here?" Chiara asked Amelia, "Apparently there's some sort of hobo camped out in my vineyard and the plants are all magicked out. Feli described it at 'the vines look like they're having a party' so they're pretty outta whack. Wanna come down and check it out?"

Amelia was going to mull it over, but that changed as soon as the kappa plunged into the clearing, screaming and gnashing its teeth. In one fluid motion, she shot its eyes full of rock salt. It went careening around the clearing, screaming, of course. When it was a decent distance ways from Amelia, Chiara shot off the final blow. The screaming, bloody-fanged beast collapsed in front of them, twitching slightly in death.

Amelia dusted off her hands and looked up at Chiara, "I think we're ready to deal with some vagrants sleeping in you vineyard."

Chaira shrugged and laughed.

….

In truth, neither woman expected to see what was before them. A man lay on his side in the middle of the vineyard. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady and even. As he dreamed, he twitched periodically or muttered some small half-intelligible syllable. The oddest thing about him was the way the plants responded to him. Every single grape vine's flowers were turned to him like little curious neighbors. And the vines themselves… they grew over everything of his, including him.

"Dammmnnn iiiit." Chiara stretched the word, infusing it with a strong touch of wonder at just how peculiar this was.

"Do you think he's a demon, Chiara-san?" Kiku asked quietly. Ludwig had stayed behind to mop up the mess that the kappas had left behind, the quiet Japanese man accompanying the increasingly irate Italian woman back to her vineyards to face her uninvited guest.

"I vote we splash him with holy water and see what happens." Chiara said, her phrasing making it clear that her 'vote' was less of a democratic gesture and more a royal proclamation.

Kiku nodded and fished a water bottle out of his bag, unscrewing it and dumping the contents on the snoozing man. They waited for something to happen. At least a minute passed. Not even a twitch marred the peaceful, dreaming face of the man at their feet. Instead, the vines, apparently encouraged by the application of sanctified fluids, curled even tighter around his unconscious form.

"Huh. Normally something happens at this point," Kiku observed serenely.

Chiara cast him a withering 'no duh' look. He shrugged. "What now, Chiara-san?"

The Italian woman had opened her mouth, about to unleash her frustrations in the form of a vocal barrage, when they were interrupted by the crunch of footsteps. Chiara, taken by surprise, gave a high, incredibly girly shriek and jumped at least two feet in the air. She came down awkwardly, wobbling on her feet. Strong, tanned hands caught her shoulders and supported her from behind. Her heart rate sped up and she found herself fixated on those hands… and the person on the other end of them. It was with a great force of will that she turned her face up to him, stared into those bright blue, hearstoppingly gorgeous eyes and said, "It took you long enough to get here, asshat."

His laugh was deep, rich and lovely. "What are you talking about, Chiara? The hero is never late!"

Biting her lip, she was most definitely not enjoying his grip on her shoulders and certainly not entertaining the thought of what it would be like to be held close by those strong arms, Chiara snapped back, "Then I suppose you aren't quite a hero yet, Alfred. Not let go of me, creep!"

"Oooh, somebody has a crush on my broootheeer," Amelia sing-songed from behind her older sibling, her small frame obscured by his broad shoulders. Looking at the two of them, one would never guess that the petite, blue-eyed blonde woman was the town's tough no-nonsense sheriff while the tall broad, muscular man was a volunteer fireman and a pacifistic toyshop owner. Well, as pacifistic as you could get in a town next to a supernatural Rift. The Rift meant that they were constantly dealing with nasty creatures sneaking into their world from other dimensions, looking to wreak a little havoc. It was all well and good, the sheriff would lead frequent patrols and the townspeople rotated in and out on the duty roster. But it was hard during tourist season, and there was a reason that no out-of-towner who moved to the little town never stayed more than a year.

"So holy water didn't work?" Amelia's voice came from behind her sibling, Chiara could see the American woman attempting to see around Alfred, the narrow aisles between the grapevines making negotiating large groups of people awkward.

"No affect, sheriff-san." Kiku reported.

"Huh," Amelia sounded contemplative, then impatient, "Alfred, move your fat ass over, I can't see."

"Ally, don't be mean," Alfred whined playfully, but made room for his petite sister to slip past him.

"Do we have an ID on him?" Amelia asked, sounding official now that she had access to the… magic scene? Was that what you said when no crime had been committed but there was the stench of magic everywhere?

"No," Kiku informed her. "No one is missing from town, but the vines obscure his face too much for us to get a positive ID. It could just be someone wearing the wrong charm in the wrong place."

"Or a particularly spectacularly stupid tourist," Alfred suggested, casually wrapping his arms around Chiara's waist and leaning his chin on her shoulder, ignoring her squawks of protest at the affectionate gesture.

"ALFRED JONES!" Chiara squeaked.

"Hmm?"

"Get off me!"

"But you're so huggable!" he protested.

"I will kick your ass into next Sunday if you don't get your hands off me right now!" Chiara's voice was climbing into a progressively higher pitch as she spoke until it sounded like she had swallowed a whole canister of helium.

Despite her friend and sibling's antics, Amelia had been pacing around the vine-wrapped person, pondering the curious situation. It didn't look as if it were hurting anyone… perhaps… but they never left the old world… it was worth a shot, even if she was wrong. "Kiku," she said quietly, silencing the squabbling Italian-American duo with a look, "Do you have any iron in your bag?"

"Hai, sheriff-san. What do you wish to use it for?"

Amelia frowned at him. "Kiku, you know you don't have to be so formal with me. Amelia is just fine."

"Hai, sheriff Amelia-san."

Amelia eyed him suspiciously, relaxing a bit when she saw the glitter of humor hidden deep in his dark eyes. Kiku was a bit of an enigma, but he did have a sense of humor buried in there. She supposed she owed it to him to explain her thought process, "I think this thing might be a faerie healing-cocoon."

"Faeries?" Alfred sounded incredulous. Amelia didn't blame him, it was a rather preposterous thought, something Alfred had no reservations reminding of her of. "Ally, you know they never left the Old World. The fae folk are too traditional, bound to the land and all. The high courts need the sacred places to appear, and we just don't have them here, Rift or no Rift. The only fae we get are the occasional banished misfit or questing prince."

"I know, Freddie," Amelia smirked as he cringed at her use of his hated childhood nickname, "I just want to try something. Kiku, the iron?"

Kiku handed her a wrought iron fire-poker, how he had gotten it into his backpack would remain a mystery of the universe. Adjusting her grip on the metal rod, Amelia gingerly extended it and prodded the somewhat human-shaped bundle of vines with the tip. The vines made a small squealing noise and pulled away from the poker, twisting even tighter around whoever or whatever they were cocooning. Green, sparkling smoke poured off of the branches where the iron touched it.

Satisfied, Amelia turned her back on the bundle of greenery on the ground, a triumphant smirk on her face. "A fairie healing cocoon," she concluded, "The fae can't stand the touch of iron, and their magic is the same way. Whatever triggered this, it's healing something or someone of the fae."

"Yeah, well I think you pissed it off, sis." Alfred pointed out.

"Huh?" Amelia replied, taken off guard.

"It just glowed green and whatever it was teleported outta here."

Amelia whipped around to find that the vines, still glowing green, were slowly slinking back to their original places on the trellises, their patient gone without a trace.

"Dammit!" both Chiara and Amelia said at the same time.

"I wanted to kick it's ass for trespassing," growled Chiara.

"I wanted to know if it's friendly," Amelia muttered, before turning back to her friends, "Well, boys and girls, buckle up, this could be an interesting ride."

Author's Note: I believe some explanations are in order. So, this will be a multi-chapter fic with many pairings (they shall be revealed with the next chapter as you meet more of the townspeople). I will also probably do the occasional one-shot of this AU focusing on some of the characters and/or scenes which do not appear and/or get spotlighted in the central fic.

A word about the beginning bit: if any of you are Shakespeare fans like me, I'm pretty sure you caught my rather blatant reference to the Bard. In 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' the Queen of the Faeries is said to be Titania, and her King is Oberon. Queen Mab and Puck are both mentioned as well. Peaseblossom is minor faerie character. As this story continues, I will continue to mention them. I am trying to be as authentic as possible with British legends of the Fair Folk, but please forgive me if I mess something up, it was NOT intentional. And yes, I am stretching the legends to fit my needs. What can I say, I like to utilize creative license.

Character Names: Not all of the Nyotalia characters have concrete 'canon' names, the most commonly used ones are 'fanon'. I use the ones I like best rather than the most common ones for my incarnations of the Nyotalia characters. Arthur's brothers also don't have canon names to my knowledge, so I used my own preferences there as well. Here's a quick breakdown of the non-canon names:

Fem!Romano: Chiara Vargas

Fem!America: Amelia Jones (Ally for short because I found an adorable bit of UK x Fem!US fanart where she was called Ally)

Fem!England: Rosa Kirkland

Scotland: Scott

Ireland: Patrick (Trick for short)

Wales: Robin

I hope to see you next chapter! Please, please, PLEASE REVIEW! I LOVE feedback, it helps me improve as a writer and makes me very happy. :)