So, yeah fanfiction is still being a git in regards to the breakup line. Fanfiction, you thought about fixing that yet? ¬¬
So, Hetalia fans! This is my second fanfic for this fandom, now this was more requested by xwolfxdogx rather than this being dedicated to her, but you should all thank her that this exists! It went like this;
Me: So I got this idea of King Arthur being reborn and making statues come to life...
Megan: OMG that would be epic o.o
Me: ...really?
Megan: Of course! 8DDD
Me: ...OK!
So here we are. I'm making this into a real story, not sure how long it's going to be, probably not TOO long because I write such long chapters (except this chapter, because it's a flipping prologue.)
Oh and updates, for those who don't know me, are very irregular and there is no set schedual for my uploading. This is a hobby and a stepping stone to becoming an author, I don't get paid so I update when I like and when I can. All messages "Y U NO UPDATE" and the like WILL BE IGNORED. Just a heads up.
So, enjoy my writings of fantasy and the like!
EDIT: 08/08/2011; Roman numerals were never my strong point, it was meant to be King George IV (4th) not King George VI (6th). Oh and also excuse my bad Old English, hardly anybody is good at writing Old English anymore xD;
Prologue
All Hail King Arthur!
War wasn't an uncommon thing to the world, not when it came to the Homo sapiens. It wasn't just because they couldn't get along; it wasn't always as trivial as that. Most of the time, it simply was because neither side could agree, and therefore a fight broke out, turning into a full scale war. Sometimes it was caused because of political protest, such as in the west, that was a common cause of war. Always political. Whilst in the eastern part of the world, it was often of a religious debate. The central, it was for power and desperation.
So, what was it when the western and the central ended up fighting, using eastern allies? That was a big question. Something Alfred wasn't sure about, even. Human, he was not, merely acting as a leader for his country, for he was the personification for it. He was the country, any cries of pain the country felt when it was being attacked, he would cry it out to let the people know. A country couldn't speak, but with an ally willing to be possessed? It could give messages, promises and threats if need be.
America didn't like getting into wars that didn't concern itself, not after World War II. Not to mention it drained the piggy bank, but this was an emergency. For a while, the personification of England had gone missing. By a while, Alfred meant thousands of years. It was quite possible there never had been one, but Francis, the personification of France, had told him differently. There was a personification of Britain out there somewhere, or England anyway, back in the old days it was simply England and Wales, Scotland and Ireland were independent with their own personifications, but all those personifications had disappeared. Francis told him when, England had disappeared around 500AD, Wales in the 13th century, Scotland in the 17th century whilst Ireland had about the same time, though a different personification, known as the Republic of Ireland, reappeared soon around the time the IRA were at large. Those other personifications were never seen again and the country had been suffering since, suffering in silence.
So Britain was left defenceless, or more so than the other countries around the world. They did have leaders that ran the country pretty well, but nothing like the personification of the country would've done. Alfred had to wonder how the personification to Britain would look. It was a proud country, a strong one too despite the lack of certain things; it was pretty open too as well as cynical. Not a lot like his own country, America, which was all manner of things. Big, small, vast, abandoned, unbelievably active to completely devoid of anything for miles. It had nearly all the types of terrains thinkable, long deserts, snowy vast lands, thick jungles and simple grasslands.
And Alfred was near the same. In terms of mood and ideas. But he was young, whilst adventurous and various, with fifty states to look after; he had to seem positive somehow. He was rarely serious, unless the situation really called for it, but it was easier for him to act happy and a bit of a dweeb if it made it easier to care for his country.
A bullet narrowly missed his head, taking him by surprise by the fact that he wasn't paying attention during a full scale battleground. What a stupid thing to do!
"Ah, sir!" A fellow soldier called, having spotted that a bullet barely missed. "Are you alright?"
Alfred lifted his helmet up slightly, a blast not long ago having shaken the helmet from its usual tight safety grip on his head, keeping his most precious part of his body safe from harm. He looked in the general direction of the soldier that called out; the dust having not settled quite yet, rubble clouded the sky to prevent them aiming properly. The Russians were relentless.
"I'm alright! Keep your guard up!" He had to shout, even though his throat was hoarse for not having a drink in hours. Nobody could drink with the enemy this close and they were rapidly losing ground. They had been pushed back into Trafalgar Square from Covent Gardens, trying in vain to keep the Westminster of London safe, for the Palace was close by, too close for comfort. The Houses of Parliament and all the politically important buildings were all in Westminster Avenue.
Currently, they were using The National Gallery to hide behind. It left the enemy pretty open since the place was built for tourists and not for a battlefield, but the enemy tried to hide behind the no longer working fountains, the water not drained, not the fountain no longer sprouting forth that healthy water it once did.
Alfred wasn't sure how it came to this, but he was sure that Ivan had something to do with this. Ivan was Russia's personification, though it had lost much of its lands from what it once was, Russia was still huge, so didn't it make sense when Britain refused to let Russia act as Britain's own personification? That's probably what angered Alfred the most, the fact that Ivan thought he could simply declare himself as Britain's personification, not when the legend still held true that he was out there, somewhere, just waiting to wake up. Alfred was sure; he had heard the legends, after all. There were loads of legends to Britain. The legend of the Welsh Dragon in Wales, the Loch Ness monster in Scotland, the leprechauns of Ireland and England? Well, the Tower of London was under the heaviest security because of the legend. The legend stated that England would fall should the last remaining raven fly from the Tower of London. (1) Because of this, the ravens had been clipped of their wings and were unable to fly. There was even a spare in the back, should that happen.
There was one legend in particular that caught Alfred's attention. The legend of King Arthur. They said he was a true King of England, who had fought against the ancient Saxons and fought purely for the safety of England, even from the French. Though, the French still envy him, even as they were against him.
It was said that he had a group of readily abled knights, known as the Knights of the Round Table. Whether that was true or not, Alfred wasn't sure, neither was anyone else, or if it was just made up because it made the man sound even greater. But there was always this bit that troubled everyone;
Whence Englande will falle, the real King of Englande wil rise like the Ffenix.
It wasn't very specific, how did it mean by "fall"? and it took work to realise that "Ffenix" was in fact phoenix. It was murmured through the war in Britain, that when England will fall, King Arthur will rise from the grave. Nobody knew if that was true or not, much like the Raven legend, but nobody took chances. Nobody knew what King Arthur really was, human or devil, but the legends were reason enough to fear him. He was the act of brilliance, what if he were to turn against his own country? It would always be possible.
The Russians were closing in; their tank was merciless in sending out rockets towards them. If there was any country strong enough to hinder the Americans, it was Russia. (2) And they were starting to win.
When his hope was already wane enough, Alfred head through his speaker something that was going through to every speaker that hadn't broken. The worst news possible.
"Everyone! The Russians have broken into the Tower of London! The ravens are gone! Repeat, the ravens are gone!"
As soon as that was finished, the ground shook. An earthquake measuring nine point one on the Richter scale. In a place like Britain, it should've been impossible, for there were no plates anywhere near Britain, but it was happening regardless. Neither American nor Russian were used to earthquakes, let alone one of this size, and many ducked for cover, or ran for their lives. The buildings around began to tumble, the tall ones collapsed on themselves, whilst the National Gallery started to crumble all around, before it, too, collapsed on itself.
In fear, Alfred hid beside the pillar holding the glass bottle with a ship inside, only to realise his mistake when the bottle rolled to the side, straight down towards him. With a quick roll to the side, he just about missed getting lacerated by the glass pieces that smashed on the floor; the ship slumped to the side, with no water to support it. There was a horrible ground tearing sound. Looking back towards where the Russian army was, Alfred saw why and why the screaming had amplified.
The ground itself was opening up, before the lion statues and the huge statue of Nelson, a giant chasm was opening up, swallowing many of the Russian tanks and Russian and Americans alike between the two fountains, which miraculously began to spout again, not of water, as designed, but fire. How, Alfred couldn't fathom, but he knew one thing. He had to get out of there before the ground swallowed him too, like in some of those bad apocalypse movies he used to watch, like 2012 and Day After Tomorrow. But this was the real thing, it was really happening right now, in front of his eyes.
"Men! What's happening there? Someone talk to me!" The speaker went off in a panic. There was an earthquake there too, but nothing like what was happening here, if Alfred's ears were telling him correctly. Because it seemed like the epicentre was right in front of him, opening up into a chasm of fire.
But something was rising from the flames. From his height, Alfred could just about see it. He barely noticed that the earthquake was waning; an earthquake that had destroyed the city in barely fifteen seconds, when he saw that it wasn't merely something that was rising from the flames, but a someone. Alfred couldn't believe it. Was it a devil? Lucifer? Some servant of the Grim Reaper? Alfred would believe anything about now. But he realised that the legend rung true, the ravens had left the tower of London and England had fallen.
It took barely fifteen seconds for England to fall, chasms opened up, breaking the land, mountains burst forth as active volcanos, which most of Wales was and was completely obliterated, along with Scotland. Cities were eaten up by the land, collapsing in on themselves whilst the change from Ireland to Northern Ireland became literal, as the land split along the border and Northern Ireland was left to float away, to eventually crash into Scotland or Wales. Britain had fallen faster than any nuclear weapon ever could've done, all done by nature herself. It was nothing short of an apocalypse come true for Britain and its inhabitants. The Russians hadn't won, nature had.
Alfred kept watching as the figure rose from Hell itself, being lifted by a platform and now Alfred could see that the person was on horseback. It was hard to see, as the clouds that appeared out of nowhere covered the sun; they were thick and black, ready to let loose of thick rain to add misery to the destruction around Britain, like Zeus wanted a piece of the action himself.
The figure from hell was wearing red, the old red British army uniform used back in the days of the British Empire, Alfred remembered. That was strange, that uniform hadn't been used in three hundred years. The person didn't seem as remarkable as the calamity that had been caused to the country had indicated the person should be. Annoyingly, the person had his back turned towards Alfred, so he couldn't see the person's face. He could see the British Empire uniform stood true and the person had ash blond hair. He seemed relatively short, but the white stallion clashed with that and gave the man upon the horse a look of grace and pride. The platform that raised the man from the earth stopped so the horse was able to jump from the platform without troubles, but the horse didn't move. The horse was built like a true horse of war should be; pure white with armour fit for a king.
The earthquake stopped completely once the platform stopped. Russians and Americans alike came from their shelter, the ones that lived through the earthquake and from getting sucked into the chasm, that is. They all looked up towards the single figure upon the platform, who stood tall with pride, like he ruled the place, he was the most important person there, he held himself like he was king.
And with a loud voice, he spoke; "What ho! Whom dares to rule my kingdom?"
Nobody replied, nobody spoke and nothing moved, even the wind stayed silent for his speech and power over them was something inhuman.
The person grew angry, as his horse stopped its foot as if showing its master's impatience. "Answer me, fiends! Who is it that dares tread upon the land of England?"
A lone Russian soldier, probably quite a high ranking one, managed to answer the powerful inhuman figure who stood above everyone else. "For Russia and Ivan of Russia, we Russians are here to take England from its lost personification." It was a bit heavy with Russian, but it was audible, even for Alfred to hear.
The figure scowled, before he turned to the side, giving Alfred the view he was hoping for, at least for the left side of his face and horse. The man had the most massive eyebrows ever. It was hard not to notice them; though Alfred shook his head from thinking such thoughts, now wasn't really the time. The man was still as magnificent as ever, like a prince.
"I believe you did not hear me, Russian." The man spat the word out like it was something foul. "For I asked and stated clearly, whom dares tread on my kingdom?" Then the man smirked. "As you have clearly shown your worth, which was pardoned as none, and as a threat to my lands, I should have to ask you to disembark with haste."
The Russians, hearing that, sobered up from their stumped state and answered angrily. "We shall not!"
The figure grinned with evil intent. "I should have you know, knaves, that I am not a mere annoyance. I will let you know that I was called forth from the depths of my grave from the cry of my country dying. For I am King Arthur, legendary fighter of Britain and killer of Saxony. For I also stand in for my country, for I am the personification of the United Kingdom!" The king turned back to the Russians, facing them full on. "Anyone who dares challenge otherwise will be proven wrong!" Rearing his horse up with a neigh, the king called out; "Arise my fellow knights of stone!"
The earthquake returned, though less fierce than the first one, aftershocks shook the land of its remaining corpses that tried to stand the heavy power of nature. Cars that had blared alarms firstly from the earthquake then silenced grew loud once more. This earthquake was a mere six point eight compared to the first one. However, even for this small earthquake, it shook Britain badly of any foundations that managed to survive the first one. Then it stopped as quickly as it came.
Alfred looked around, having managed to keep his balance and was unable to find any shelter before the shaking had already halted; he shook as he heard the sound of something heavy moving. Looking past the fountains towards the lion statues, he swore he saw them move. The lion closest shifted its head to look directly towards a Russian soldier and stopped. What the…?
Then it stood, the foundations underneath the large stone cat broke and fell as rubble. The other cats joined the first, standing from their foundations as living beings that moved on their own.
Alfred couldn't help the yell; "What the hell are those things!"
King Arthur had heard him, for he turned to glance towards Alfred directly. But Arthur seemed to be scrutinizing him, for he must've figured there was a difference between him and the Russians, for he hadn't the same accent as every Russian did. Then he looked away.
"My stone brethren, seize the Russians in how you see fit." King Arthur let the order free and the lions broke into a sprint, tearing and stampeding on the Russians and their tanks, vans and cars. The bullets did no damage, any working tanks that tried to send rockets forth were too slow to aim properly at the fast moving cats as they bit down onto the tanks or swiped at them like they were cotton balls and they were playing. Some exploded, but it left the lions mostly unharmed.
Alfred backed away slowly, only to jump out of his skin as he felt something behind him. Looking up, he realised it was another statue, one of a knight. Wait, hadn't he-?
Turning to look at where the statue of King George IV had been, he saw the space empty. Looking back in front, he saw the very same statue on horseback in front of him, staring at him with an uncertain look.
"What are you?" King George asked.
Alfred stuttered an answer, before he coughed a few times to answer clearly. "Alfred… personification of America."
King George frowned. "Friend or foe?"
What?
"Do you declare yourself a friend to Britain, or a foe to our, for now, anarchy?"
Now Alfred understood. "Friend,"
King George nodded. "Be watching yourself, mate." He said, before he joined in the battle with the lions.
A yell was still heard over the commotion of the battle between the statues that came to life and the Russians. "Let you remember and tell your 'Ivan' that King Arthur has risen again, lest you be conquered, you will leave with quickened haste!"
That was what they did; the remaining Russian's fled the scene in a scurried panic as Arthur watched in glee as his stony servants took down the remaining threats.
Until a booming hiss was head that sounded a cross between a rattle snake and a volcanic eruption going off. Turning quickly, Alfred caught sight of what it was, something deemed in his mind impossible. He saw a TV crew, probably BBC news, driving from what appeared to be a giant cobra made out of fire and stone, slithering at 50mph (3) towards them at a frightening rate. As soon as it caught sight of Arthur, however, it stopped, then brought its top half up into the air, the full length of the snake was as long as a whale, possibly 30 meters (4) and now standing at 15 meters high with its hood wide open to see a strange pattern, possibly an insignia of some kind, whilst the snake was standing full height almost like it was about to-
"Great Scott! Fall back, lest you get rained on!" King Arthur called out quickly and hurriedly galloped his horse off the platform and out into the battle arena to get away from the snake. The second Arthur started running, the snake let loose.
It was a fucking spitting cobra that spat out lava! Alfred could barely take it, he ran, but looked back to watch lava spill onto the TV camera crew on the van and he had to endure watching it dissolve before his very eyes, the people with it, and the van careered off its path, the tires melting and the engine touching too much heat, eventually exploding. Even from yards away, Alfred could feel the intense heat that came with the explosion. He turned his head away so he didn't have to watch his men flying through the air in the explosion. His men had taken Arthur's words, but even so, it was too late.
The snake hissed again, a mix of a hiss and spitting lava from a volcano, then snake managed to propel itself into the air, somehow or other, and a nearby passing lion statue was taken prisoner. The snake wrapped itself around the lion statue; it had barely missed hitting Alfred, as he took cover by the fountains, trying his best not to fall into the chasm made by Arthur's return, and he watched the snake squeeze tightly around the lion, the lion roaring out in anger, and to top off the whole load of cluster fuck, the lion exploded into tiny pebbles, many of them hitting Alfred, though it didn't hurt, it would surely leave bruises.
Another lion rushed in aid of its friend, although too late, it sought vengeance and caught the snake by its neck, crushing it within its strong jaws. The snake didn't stand a chance, as it crumbled away like ash, the flames dying and only fragments were left of what was once a nightmare.
"By Jove! So, the ravens had left the nest after all." Alfred heard King Arthur ponder, though rather loudly, either that or he was really close. Alfred ran towards the pillar that held the lions and Nelson and looked around the corner to see Arthur looking up at the sky, still seated on his bleach white stallion. "Sycorax, I know whence those demons came from! Do you coward away, or face me?"
There was a dark laugh, a definite female one from Alfred's hearing, but definitely not a pleasant one. Looking into the sky, his jaw dropped. The sky had turned a livid black. A spiral of dark clouds grouped not too far above Arthur and came together to make a figure of a woman, a young woman. She seemed to wear peasants clothing, strangely enough, but yet she was levitating in the sodding air! Everything about her spelt ordinary, but she obviously was far from ordinary, unless people back in ancient times did that for a living. The first thing that came into Alfred's mind when he saw her was; witch.
"You've always been a smart man, Arthur Pendragon."
Arthur growled. "That name is no longer. I am to be known as Arthur Kirkland. Pendragon ceases to exist."
The woman snorted. "Pendragon sounded so much more heroic."
"I care not about your opinions, Sycorax!" So, that thing had a name? "Surrender back to your cage and there will be no unforgiving consequences."
Sycorax laughed, for a full minute, before she calmed down. "You're ridiculous, but you haven't changed in that long nap of yours. Pity, you still look the same."
Arthur almost went red. "Surrender and be merely held in captivity, or fight and die!"
Sycorax smirked. "I wish you luck, Kirkland." With a wink, she dissolved again into a cloud of mist, but the sky remained as horrid as before. The clouds were black but no rain fell, but now it had started to let out lightning, giving the look an already more barren feel.
Arthur started swearing, by the sounds of his voice anyway, in a language Alfred couldn't understand but knew what it was, Latin. He swore for about a minute, before King George VI, Alfred had almost forgotten about him, talked up to Arthur and spoke in his ear. Arthur's shoulder's stiffened from Alfred's view and he almost fainted in horror when Arthur's head turned to stare directly at him.
"You!" Alfred's head actually spun hearing that word, holding such anger and frustration in that single word, all of it thrown at him like a wrecking ball. It scared the shit out of him, knowing what Arthur was capable of. "Come!" Alfred had felt like telling the asshole "No way, Jose!" but Arthur was scary enough without being aggravated. Slowly, but surely, a gun still ready in his hand he hadn't used in a long time (or was it a few seconds?), Alfred made his way to Arthur, not stopping until he was two meters away. "State your name."
Alfred stood straight, trying to ease the feeling of fleeing away. "Alfred F. Jones, personification for the United States of America."
Arthur yawned. "Never heard of it."
That blew the ego out of Alfred, whatever ego he had left, had just shrivelled up and died. He tried to retain it, but Arthur was having none of it.
"Never mind that! You stated to my comrade that you declare yourself and your country to be allies with Britain and were fighting against Russia to protect England? Do you declare this true?" Alfred nodded, but Arthur wasn't pleased; "Speak, boy!"
"Yes, sir! I swear on my country!" He near pissed his pants again, goddamn Arthur being so scary.
Arthur nodded, satisfied; "Very well! I ask a request from you and your country. I blame you not for what has happened, as what is written will happen and what is yet written is yet to happen. Now, my request would be for you and your country to help restore this land to what it used to be. Because Sycorax has been released from her prison, I was brought back to quell her in a one on one duel to the death, as the legend foretold by Merlin. Sycorax specialises in necromancy, the art of demonology and controlling them, she has stolen the souls of several dragons that gave her the power she has. If we have a hope of fighting her, we may need to seek assistance with the final dragon surviving. Do you agree to join me in my quest, Alfred F. Jones?"
Alfred's head was spinning from the information. So, find a dragon, bring England back to normal and defeat the evil bitch. That seemed simple enough. Alfred nodded. "Of course, Artie!"
Arthur's eyes blazed in annoyance. "You will state me by my name and that is Arthur Kirkland, not Artie." The king snorted but nodded back. "Very well, although I'm not sure of what much use you will be, what with that popgun."
"What? But this is a full on-"
"I don't care what it is, if it cannot fight demons, it's useless." Alfred wanted to fume on about how cool his guns were, but Arthur waved it all away. "We will get a sword for you, or perhaps enchant your bullets, but either way, we have to get you a new weapon." Then Arthur smiled. "But regardless, welcome to the Knights of the Round Table!"
So? This is the prologue, the next chapters will be double this length, around 7,000 - 9,000 words long each, so you can imagine that updating will be slow, more or less.
The next chapter will have a time skip, not a huge amount but one is needed I'm afraid. Never mind! I hope you enjoyed and I'll try to get the next chapter up ASAP!
~Blackie
Footnotes~
(1) This is true! Legend says that if the last raven is to fly from the Tower of London, then England will fall. Because of this, the ravens have had their flight wings clipped off and they even have a spare cage full of ravens! Talk about paranoia!
(2) This, probably isn't so true. This is entirely opinion based and please don't take offense to this (if you're even into Hetalia, you shouldn't be sensitive anyway) but I truly believe that the countries strong enough to take down America, or at least their army, is China, Russia and Europe (if they get lucky). I don't believe America is the world and I will argue if anyone believes so. Everything is made in China, therefore, China is the world ;D
(3) 50mph = approx 80.5kmph
(4) 30 metres = 98 ft
