I do not own Hetalia.

T

Morning Fire

Lukas loved mornings. Not eight am walks or nine am drowsy breakfasts, but crisp early five am. When the birds are still sleeping in their dewy nests, and the sun is a glimmer in the hazy horizon. The smell of coffee dripped through his kitchen, along with the machine's steady croaking. He leaned against the edge of his counter. His radio was turned on to the classical station. Right now it was playing Eugene Doga's Gramophone.

He enjoyed the dreamy way the violins played. The lilting noise sent him into a gilded fantasy. It brought images of silky dresses swaying around lithe legs, clinking glasses, magnificent concert halls, and rows of rich faces.

Once the coffee finished he poured it into a bottle and left for work. There was no need to linger. Lukas had mastered the art of cutting all the fat from his schedule. He didn't have a moment to be bored, which was good. He also didn't have much of a social life outside of his brother and father, which wasn't as good.

His drive through work split across the grassy horizon, dipping into the now bluish-pink sky. His keys jingled as he rode down the quiet streets. Most people weren't awake yet: another benefit. He didn't really much like people anyway.

Unless, of course, if they were his students.

After twenty more minutes of driving, with the only sound being the muted rumble of tires on asphalt and the wind brushing past the windows, Lukas arrived at his workplace. The stark white building cut off from the scenery, filling it with its blandness. Several fences surrounded it, as well as an electrified one leading to a massive compound for prisoners. Several cars were lined before it, catching sharp sunlight.

Lukas walked to the building, flipping his card out of his pocket and letting the striped machine read it. The red light blinked green. Lukas entered, hearing the door shut behind him. Inside two men were standing at the desk, discussing their evening out.

"My wife should have been more grateful." The older, stouter one said. "I spent a good amount on that silly restaurant. And how does she repay me? By giving me kiss and going right to be."

The other one laughed, "Man, women are difficult."

Lukas refrained from rolling his eyes as he approached them, checking in with the finger-scanning machine. He stood quietly by them. Although he was a head shorter than the lanky man who had laughed, as well as fairer and softer looking, they didn't overbear his presence. Lukas stood huge, as if he had an aura hanging around him like a cloud. A heavy, mean, off-putting cloud.

"Morning, Professor B." The portly one, Jaime Cross, nodded.

"Morning Cross." Lukas said.

"Hear you're getting new students this week. If they're anything like the last time, you're in for an easy ride."

"Teaching is never easy."

However, Lukas had to admit that the last three students, women, were possibly the kindest ones he had ever had. Each had actually wanted to learn and were eager to lap up any information Lukas gave them. One was entirely illiterate, and the other two could barely write their names, often misspelling them. The year he spent with them was another one to store in his heart.

"Those ladies sure better get a good life now." Cross said to his coworker, Anthony.

Anthony nodded. "Nice gals."

"They ended the year at almost a high school reading level." Lukas commented. "I sent them to a friend who should help them get their GED."

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" A look of confusion trekked by Anthony's flat features.

Lukas nodded. "But I usually help male prisoners. Their teacher had a mental break down so they came to me. Why else did you think the women were here?"

Anthony gave Lukas a tiny shrug.

"Anyway, I'm getting my desk cleared up." Lukas left without another word, ignoring the grunts behind him.

His office was in the furthest room, adjacent to his personal classroom. The lights were pulsing on and off. Lukas brushed the switch and they surged with power, casting pale, sickly light on his room. Lukas touched the switch again and shut them off, feeling sick. His head began to swim and the light bounced underneath his eyelids.

He opened his windows instead and got to work, sitting down at his chair. His computer was off and unplugged. He didn't like leaving it on overnight, and especially over vacations. Even if they had only been three days.

Next to his computer was a new file, with the information of his new students. He usually didn't even bother reading their bios. He found it more interesting and beneficial to know these people by who they truly were, rather than something a lifeless secretary had scribbled on to a paper. Those were usually reeking of bias, anyway. They ignored the actual person and focused on the crime.

Not that it was a bad thing, Lukas reminded himself. It was their job. And some crimes overshadowed anything a person could have done.

Lukas shuddered inwardly, and quickly rushed the memory out of his mind. Not all students were good. No matter how smart. Lukas' hand hovered the file. He considered checking, just in case. He paused. That had been only one student in so many, and it was so long ago.

Lukas flipped the file open briefly and glanced through the pages.

… Or page.

It was only one. Lukas frowned. He separated the three pages of the single file. He looked through them, but there was only one name and one picture. Lukas stared at the black and white mug shot, avoiding the eyes.

"Only one."

Lukas snapped up, his heart racing in his throat but his face expressionless save for darkened cheeks.

A social worker stood in front of him, her tall frame eating up the hallway. She wore a slim beige suit and thick heels. Her hair was swept back and pinned tightly, catching all the curls and kinks of her hair. Her eyes were firm, but not severe.

Lukas shut the file. "Seems like I get less students each time."

"You'd assume that's a sign that there are less prisoners each time." Her voice was low and full. "Sadly, that's never the case." She paused. "May I enter?"

Lukas grunted in affirmation. "You're always welcome, Diane."

She flashed him a smile and sat on one of the crisp new chairs. "I'm not here to tell you good news."

Lukas rolled his chair back to the counter cramped in the back of his room. He opened a water bottle and poured its contents into the coffee maker, feeling like he really did need another hit before the morning even started.

"What is it?"

"Really?"

Lukas glanced over his shoulder. Her eyes were pinned on him.

"Really what?"

"No retort?"

"No."

Her expression lit up before cooling down, in a matter of moments. "The weekend not go as well as you had hoped?"

Lukas shrugged. "I guess." It had gone far worse, but he didn't want to go into detail.

Diane understood and moved on. "It's about your student. We isolated him due to his behaviour and record."

"Particularly violent?"

"In a way, yes."

"Alright."

"You're up for it?"

"No student is unteachable."

The coffee machine sputtered to life and began to fill his mug. The smell wafted up and began to diffuse through the room. Diane watched him move.

"Your hands are shaking."

"Thanks, I didn't notice."

Lukas really hadn't noticed. He looked down at his fingers, which trembled lightly as he held them aloft. He gave them a hard shake. "I didn't keep well." He added.

"I see." Diane allowed him a scrutinising look. "Do you want me to tell you what he's done or are you sticking to your tradition?"

"I'll stick to it. Remove any bias. Cut the fat." Lukas picked up his mug and took a greedy sip.

"Every other teacher in this county and the surrounding ones have kicked him out."

"They're just not tough enough, then."

"Or he's overpowering." Diane said, raising her eyebrows.

"I take that as a challenge then." Lukas gave the slightest hint of a smile.

Diane knew better than to argue with him. "Best of luck, then." She stood. "He comes by tomorrow for your introduction. Your classes begin Friday."

Lukas turned back to his coffee, staring out at the sky.

. . .

"What say you to this challenge?"

The man grinned, his gnarled teeth poking out from behind his even gnarlier beard. He began to take a small circle around Lukas, who stood still in the centre. His pale eyes followed him, his feet parted slightly. He went barefoot, his toes digging into the carved stone beneath.

"I say that you favour yourself by calling this a challenge." Lukas said calmly. The half cloak at his shoulders rustled in morning wind.

The man, called Rat, scoffed. "You favour yourself with your high attitude, Mage."

"I am hardly a Mage." Fury ignited his eyes. "You know very well what I am."

Rat was behind him, and bounding fast, hurling himself like a canon. Lukas heard his footsteps rumbling. Once he reached behind him, Lukas bent his back and flipped over the tightly wound knot of muscle. Rat tumbled forwards, spinning on his heel and swinging his war hammer. It skidded past Lukas's head, brushing his nose. It was enough. A drop of red blossomed at his nostril.

Lukas landed at the ground and smacked it with his hand, sending flashing blue light down the chips and cracks towards Rat. Rat began to step away when the smoke curled around him. Lukas made a fist and swung it to his shoulder, sweeping Rat's feet from under him. Rat tumbled to the ground. The stream of blood began to increase as it swam down Lukas' lips.

He leapt up, pouncing on Rat. Rat caught him by the heel, but a second too late. Lukas' other foot got him in the solar plexus, sending him into a v-shape, his legs and head curled inwards. Lukas shook his hand, trying to regain strength for another dose of magic.

Rat coiled his body and rolled forwards, using his momentum and attempting to regain his breath. In his fist he still held Lukas' heel, slamming him into the ground. Lukas' cheek bone met the stone and tore open his skin. He twisted, attempting to wrangle free. He sent another burst of bluish smoke towards rat, concentrating it into a slate, and running it through his hand. Rat cried out in pain. Lukas sprung forwards, edging close to the end of the arena.

He stared at Rat, panting.

"I am a teacher." He spat out a wad of blood.

Rat growled at him, cradling his hand. The smoke began to leak out of it, leaving a fine white line where the magic had hit.

"What did you do, Mage?"

Lukas' mouth twisted. "Nothing lethal. You will feel burning pain for some time. Then it will be over."

"Where are you going? You have not won."

"This was practice. What is there to win but more knowledge?"

Rat grumbled, and then guffawed. He roared with laughter while Lukas lifted his other hand to his wounds, letting golden light lace through them and stitch them back to health. A shiver of pain spread through him, then warmth.

"You fought well," Rat said, rising to his feet. He brushed tears from his eyes.

"I'm not much for melee." Lukas shrugged. "I'd rather keep my distance."

"A born archer, like your Beautiful Lord Uncle." Rat said. "The King chose wisely in his marriage. Odd he chose a young man when there are so many young women. Although, I shall not be the last to admit that your Uncle is as fine as one."

Lukas turned to him. "What are you rambling about, you old knot of hair?"

"Have you not heard? Your services are needed in war."

"My services go only into war as is. I will not fight in it." Lukas said, insinuating that the matter was closed.

He walked back towards Rat and held a hand above him, showering him in the golden light.

"I can wear my wounds pridefully." Rat said.

"You can, but I'd like to fight you again in the near future. And I'd rather have an even match: two arms against two arms."

Rat looked carefully at his wounded side. The white line was buzzy with the golden smoke, already beginning to vanish. It looked like the healing light Lukas had given him was eating the pain.

"I shall never understand the nature of your magic."

"What about my Uncle?"

"Your mind prances like a half-broken horse, my Lord."

"I am not your Lord. Call me by my name."

Rat shrugged. "Why do you bring up your Uncle?"

"Because you had brought him out of the air, without any apparent meaning."

"Nothing eludes you, my Lord."

Lukas began to turn away, his cloak twisting around his bodice. He wore cloths and silks for his blouse and pants, but leather for the bindings of his calves and forearms. A belt drooped at his waist, tilting like a sash. It held various pockets and a thin dagger. Nearly everyone of the Royals kept a weapon at their side, now that the general Peace had been cut abruptly.

"Your Uncle was a fine archer in his day, if the legends have any amount of truth in them."

Lukas shrugged. "I apologise. It was not without cause you bring him up."

Rat narrowed his gaze. Lukas had his back to him, with his hands clasped around his biceps, rubbing them gently. Something had upset the hard-headed teacher.

"Your mind is off today."

"I have a new student." Lukas said, before Rat even managed to get the last word out.

"Of what breed?"

"Bear. Fighter Bear, the largest kind of bjørn." Lukas paused. "I think in their barbaric tongue they are called the Krigs."

"When was the last time you had one?"

"When that old philosopher's son had given his female one up, and she had gone all but feral."

"And you trained her well, did you not?"

"Of course I did."

"Then why do you worry now?"

Lukas did not respond.

Rat sighed and turned the other way. Their practice for the morning was over, it seemed. He picked up his war hammer and brushed Lukas' blood off the tip. With that, he decided to train the other princes, especially since they were too lazy to wake up. A good thundering at their doors should do the trick. Rat grinned.

Lukas exited the fighting ring, which was a large circular arena made of carved rock, and covered by a dome-piece supported by smooth pillars. Outside the birds had begun to mutter and several foxes rushed through the forest.

He stepped off, dropping to the ground smoothly, as if he was weightless. The castle was to the left, mounted on slick black rocks and shrouded in a forest. Past that was Lukas' classroom and home, where he slept in the tower and was tended to by a single maid. The castle would provide for him what was needed, as blood had bonded him to the Royal family.

But he had chosen the life of a teacher and scholar: of the fighting kind, too. And so his place was outside where combat was prevalent. He never felt like he belonged much indoors. His little brother, Erik, a quiet, mousy child who was still nearing the age of eight, preferred the vast rooms. He didn't mind sparing him a visit every now and then, though.

Lukas went towards his class, breathing in the fresh air.

The last students he had was a simple-minded snake woman. Her four slanted yellow eyes and hissing voice hardly matched her personality. Lukas had come to learn that she was a gentle beast, especially when she brought him half-eaten rats in the mornings as gifts, or precious gems she had dug up on one of her escapades.

It was too good, so the next student, as the Gods of Balance will it, would be especially troublesome. It would be no use getting comfortable yet.

Lukas hopped up on a rock and went to his classroom like a mountain-goat, following the niches and edges. Birds fluttered overhead, spreading their massive scaled and feathered wings. Lukas paid them no mind.

Below the castle was a pit of forest. Carts and traders set up there, so they could go further north towards the villages. He could see the rooftops from here. Lukas glanced out. Tiny, squirming shapes of horses roamed around, basking in the morning sun. Past that, beyond the pale blue mountains, the second moon hung, shaped like a crescent and descending. The sun pounded in the other corner of the sky.

His cheeks still ached faintly, like an echo in the back of a chamber. Lukas rubbed it, stepping off and finally reaching his home. His energy was draining quickly. He entered his tower, finding a cook standing in his kitchen. She perked up.

"Good morning, my Lord."

"Good morning." Lukas nodded. "Do you have…?"

She walked up to him with a steaming wooden mug. Lukas thanked her and downed it in a gulp. The warm, bitter liquid slid down his throat and set fire to his innards, flooding him with life. He smiled sheepishly, then smothered the expression. The cook caught it in time.

"M'Lord certainly enjoys his good drink in the morn." Her voice hopped with each intonation, cuddling her nasally Southern accent. "And in the after and in the eve. Ay, you'd say you had an 'ddicton, like the olds mams said you could never be too certain with anything that makes a fire in yer belly."

Lukas didn't really understand most of what she said, but he enjoyed her speech anyway. He went and took a seat on the stool.

"Any messages for me?"

"Ah! Ye, damned near forgot." She lightly smacked her forehead. She went to a basket at the end of his door and retrieved an envelope. The seal was from the West: a four-humped camel with a star on its flank.

"Why would they have a Bear in the west?"

"Bear? Oh you meant yer teaching note, ay, no, no letter from them. Only word of mouth. Said to you he come tomorrow so you could get him properly adequate. Most people don't want him here so I doubt our barns would be so kind enough as to hold him here. But ye never know with our King, Bless Him and May He Live Til the River Runs Dry and The Mountains Crumble," her eyes flew upwards, "He may just let him. He let yer Snake Lady live here."

"She was kind and docile." Lukas said gently, smiling at her despite himself.

Her face broke into a massive grin at his expression. It went away when she processed what he had said. She shivered and shook her head, her mass of brown hair shaking with her. "I don't trust a single one of those w'men. They all are the one and the same. Even if they have the scaly skin, ye, those are the worst."

Lukas knew he couldn't uproot her prejudices. The poor woman had grown up without a roof over her head. Coming to the castle had been at first to give money to her home, and now it had become her life. Her first day here, ten years back, Lukas remembered her bursting into a fit of incomprehensible but gleeful gibberish over shoes that didn't fall apart the moment her feet went in. He learned her name through other maids who spoke her tongue, something Lukas couldn't ever of hoped of pronouncing correctly. The translation into the common tongue was easier: Thorn.

"Who is the Bear's owner?" Lukas asked.

Thorn's face darkened.

"I don't know, my Lord. They wouldn't say."

Lukas paused. It could be a ruse. The King had began to brew enemies in all directions. They were namely plagued with greed, regarding his wealth and economics. The bear could be sent to kill Lukas, or the King, or all of them - why not?

Or they could be leeching off of him. Lukas considered turning the bear away.

"If it's a spy," Lukas said aloud, "then by the time I'm done training him we'll know. We can set up our own league of spies."

"Ah, nay, but what if he's not wanting to stay for the lessons?" Thorn pointed out.

"Why spend money? My bank grows with this funding."

"You've already accepted them, then." Thorn turned away from him, not meeting his gaze. The subject of money was a touchy one.

Lukas didn't respond. He drained his mug and thanked her, leaving the room once again with a wordless glower.