AN: Sitting here in the dark, unable to sleep, this story suddenly came to mind. So I decided to write it down my first vampire fanfiction. Hope you all enjoy it and have an awesome day! Remember to review!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia
The velvety night sky was clear and held thousands of stars, each gazing down from the new moon sky at the world below them. A village, Montre, slept in a valley among the Drake Mountains. The shadowy mountains towered over the village. Cold and unforgiving the harsh wind swept down from the Mountains and into village, howling at the wooden houses. But no one paid it any mind for on that late autumn night no one dared to step outside. Only those whose jobs stretch into such a late hour roamed the streets.
Two men, dressed in all black, slowly made their way down the street. As the passed the stone manor, home to the lord of the land, they gave a small polite bow towards the large house. Unsmiling they continued onwards ready to fulfill their grim job. They approached the large gothic church and swiftly entered.
"Evening, gentlemen" The priest greeted. He stood by the church's alter in his usual black robes. "It's a shame that we here under such grim circumstances, especially on such a beautiful night." The priest turned to face them; his navy eyes were full of sorrow. He tucked a strand of shoulder length brown hair behind his ear as he turned back to what he was doing.
"Yes, Father Laurinaitis," Replied one of the men. He looked around at the empty church. "There's no one here." He observed.
Toris grimly nodded. "He had no family and no one here knew him." The two men moved closer and stood next to the father. Before them was a wooden coffin. A handsome young man with golden hair laid inside. He was very pale but it looked like he once had fair sun kissed skin. The body was clothed in all white and had his hands folded over his chest.
The two men stepped forward and closed the lid of the coffin as the priest said a prayer for the boy's soul. From above they heard the bells start to toll and they knew it was time. They lifted it out and carried it out to a cart that was waiting outside. Sliding the coffin onto the cart they nodded at the priest and grabbed each side of the cart.
Marching down the cobblestone road they headed towards the outskirts of town. Their footsteps echoed as they walked through the silence. Soon they reached the outskirts of the village and continued onwards towards the base of the closest mountain. Turning down a dirt road they reached the black steel gates they were looking for. Above the gates, written in black twisted letters, was: Montre Cemetery. The Cemetery was located far from the village, deep in the forest at the base of the mountain.
"Glad to see you finally arrived with the newest addition to my cemetery." A short man with vivid green eyes leaned against the twisted black fence. He had short blonde hair, thick eyebrows, and wore a long black coat with a white under shirt and a red ribbon around his neck. The man chuckled as the two men jumped as he spoke. They tensed that the grave keeper approached their cart and eyed the coffin. "An ugly looking coffin isn't it? Well no matter. I've found a place for it." He took a step back and motioned for the men to follow him. Hesitantly they did. Full of fear and paranoia they crept through the dead kingdom, glancing at the stone gravestones on their way.
"Was he drained?" The grave keeper asked.
The men glanced at each other. "No... We don't think so."
"Then set it down here." They came to a halt in front of a grey brick building, the grave keeper's home, and next to it was a smaller similar building which was his work place. They set the cart down and nervously glanced around as the grave keeper went inside the smaller shed. He returned with a wooden post with a golden bell attached and some string.
He looked at the tense fearful men and laughed. "There is no need to worry. They dead don't come back to life," His emerald eyes scanned the thick dark trees around the cemetery. "At least not tonight," That did put their minds at ease. Knowing this the grave keeper smiled and headed in the direction of the empty grave. "Follow me, gentlemen."
They walked among the graves and soon reached the empty grave. They worked in silence as they prepared the coffin. While the two men put some robe underneath it to lower it down the grave keeper attached the string to the bell and sipped it into the coffin. He put the post with the bell on it next to the grave, just like some of the other graves in the area. Once everything was ready they slowly lowered the coffin six feet into the ground and started burying it.
Once they were done the grave keeper smiled at the two men. "You may go now. Thank you for your assistance." They nodded, grabbed the cart and walked as fast as they could out of the cemetery. The grave keeper smirked at the fearful men and once they were out of sight he walked back towards his house and made himself a cup of tea.
A few hours before sunrise, he was reading a leather bound book in front of his fireplace while sipping a cup of his favorite tea when he heard it. The soft chime of the golden bell disrupted the silence. Eagerly tossing his book aside he quickly made his way out to the grave yard and found which bell was chiming. It was the bell of his newest addition.
Kneeling on the ground he pounded the palm of his hand against the fresh dirt and put his ear to the ground. "Come on, poppet," He called. "If you can't dig yourself out then you weren't worth our time," The chiming stopped. The grave keeper listened intently and grinned when he heard the sound of scratching and wood splintering. "Come on, come on." He whispered as he cheered the man on. The digging got closer and closer.
The grave keeper got up and stood back as the sound reached the surface. A hand forced it's self out the dirt followed by the head and torso of the buried man. Coughing, exhausted, and confused, the man stopped digging to catch his breath, not even bothering to dig out the other half of his body. The grave keeper smiled down at him. "That's the way, poppet. I knew you could do it."
The man's sky blue eyes warily looked up at the grave keeper. "W-Who are you," he asked. His voice was horse and his throat felt scratchy. "What happened to me?"
"Well my name is Arthur Kirkland and you died, poppet."