AN: IT'S DONE. TIME FOR CELEBRATION.
This is a small side story to Still Here (go read it!), but you don't need to read Still Here to understand it. It can be a completely seperate story.
So yes, a Britain and Roman Empire fanfic! Britannia Angel is involved. ;) Set sometime after England defeats Spain's Armada and definitely before America's independence. Like maybe 50 – 100 years before independence. You know, whenever England was considered strongest country or country with the strongest navy or something. At least the first part is. You'll get it once you read it.
Since this contains some content regarding religion, I apologize in advance for offending anyone. I don't know how people in the English Renaissance would react if a man claimed to be an angel. And then there's the fact I didn't do research. -_-"
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way though I do wish for Britannia Angel to be mine.
Enjoy!
When Britain opened his door, he expected perhaps a courier with a message, one of his annoying siblings, a Spaniard out for revenge, even a certain bloody frog with his horrible fashion taste who just wouldn't die. Instead, the supposedly dead personification of the Roman Empire stood at the door in a sopping wet toga.
"Good afternoon~ or is it evening? It's hard to tell with all the rain here. You wouldn't mind if I borrowed your cozy living space to escape this dreary weather, would you?"
SLAM!
England leaned against the door. "Must have been my imagination."
More pounding. "Hey, I can hear you! Why not be a kind soul and let me in?"
"Yes, it's my imagination. No one is at the door." He walked away from the entrance toward his kitchen. "Perhaps I should make myself a cup of tea."
"Tea? I prefer wine and ladies!"
"WHAT THE –" The British Empire jumped back in shock from the former empire that magically appeared in front of him. " HOW THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU COME INTO MY HOUSE?! Were you not just in front of the door moments ago?!"
"Aha, so you do admit I was there!"
England grabbed one of the many swords hanging on the walls. "GET OUT INTRUDER!"
The mighty Rome panicked. "W-wait this is an entire misunderstanding! There's no need to use that sword – it's pointy, what if it hurts me? H-hehe let's just make up – no don't charge at me with that – ACK!"
The rising moon found Sir Arthur Kirkland in a seat before the fireplace with the Roman Empire, who was nursing the few injuries he gained from the attacking Brit. Said Brit had a pensive look on his face, his eyes closed in thought and his hands clasped in front of his face. After a while, he looked back up toward his guest.
"You say you were turned into an angel by God because you were the strongest empire of your time and have been helping humans since."
"Ow, that stings. Huh? Oh yes, I did."
"You came to my house because I defeated the Spanish Armada, making me the leading power of my time and therefore a possible successor."
"Uh-huh."
"Since you think I am most likely to succeed you, you came here to give me your powers as an angel and then retire."
"Mm, you have that right."
"Right, I believe you – LIKE HELL I DO!" England exploded. "THAT IS THE MOST UNBELIEVABLE THING I'VE EVER HEARD! WHO WOULD EVER BELIEVE SUCH A STORY?!"
"Eh? But you said you believed it. And no one else believes in your other friends."
"DON'T MAKE FUN OF MY FRIENDS AND FLYING MINT BUNNY! JUST BECAUSE MAGIC ISN'T WIDELY APPRECIATED DOESN'T MEAN IT DOESN'T EXIST! THE SAME APPLIES TO FLYING MINT BUNNY! Anyway, that was sarcasm you git! It was all very entertaining and such, but enough is enough. Now get out of here before I take you to court!" England grabbed and pointed another sword at the obvious imposter.
"Am I that untrustworthy?! You break my heart!" cried the Rome look-a-like dramatically. "What part of me do you not trust?"
"Everything!"
"How could I be rejected…" the curly brown haired man mumbled dejectedly. "I'm telling the truth. I even know what the world above looks like. It's got lots of lovely ladies, ohohoho~! But I can't have any fun."
"There is no way God would have made you an angel with your crude remarks and laziness!" England hissed, eyes narrowed. "Get out of here, unless you want to face my wrath!" he shouted, and swung his sword.
The other man jumped back from his swing and retreated from the seething blond. "Ah, this is dangerous. What should I do now? I wanted to settle this peacefully without conflict, and I'll get in trouble if I reveal my true form right now…" He grabbed another sword hanging on the wall and started blocking England's attacks, much to the blonde's displeasure.
"Oh? What happened to the bumbling git before?" England questioned as he continued his assault. "Decided to reveal your true colors, did you?"
"No, but this is getting out hand." His oppenent's mouth had hardened into line. "Please stop? I don't think you would want your beautiful property to be damaged."
"Perhaps if you dropped your sword and walked out the door this instant then your face won't be damaged!"
Slowly, England forced the other man towards the entrance. He grinned. There was definitely no way this bastard was the Roman Empire! Otherwise the battle would have ended with his opponent as the victor already. He shivered at the thought of beating the man before him into a bloody pathetic pulp. Served the fool him right for entering his property uninvited and then impersonating the Roman Empire!
"It looks like I will have to after all."
Huh?
A sudden explosion threw England off his feet. Surprised, he righted himself as he used one arm to attempt to shield his eyes from any possible debris, the other still holding on to the sword. He glared at the shadowy form behind the dust filling the air. Damn him for ruining a perfectly good hallway! Though there is something different…
When the air cleared, England dropped his sword and gasped made in disbelief. Glowing wings had sprouted from the man's back, pressing against the walls of his hallway and causing cracks to spread across the plaster. He radiated an aura of power.
He hadn't been lying when he said he was the deceased Roman Empire.
Rome coldly stared at the personification of the British Empire, who stood rooted in place by awe and fear. The serious look on the angel's face strangely made England feel insignificant, as if he was just a bug that could be squashed with a finger and continued to stand simply because the Roman Empire willed it.
"Great Britain..." growled the Roman Empire.
Then the Roman Empire unexpectedly burst into hysterics.
"Darn it! Because you weren't listening I had to reveal my true form! Do you know how huge a crime that is?! We're not supposed to reveal our true forms unless the person is dreaming or in a trance-like state! I'm going to be in such huge trouble…"
"ROME."
"Gyaaah! I'm sorry! It was an emergency! I won't do it again! Spaaaare meeee!"
"I'M ONLY LETTING YOU GO THIS TIME BECAUSE OF THE LITTLE ONE BEFORE YOU – "
"Little one?!"
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sor – oh really? Thank yoouuu!"
" – AND BECAUSE YOU'RE TRANSEFERRING YOUR OWNERSHIP TO HIM. I'LL PROBABLY NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN IN HEAVEN. THAT'S A HUGE FAVOR YOU'RE DOING FOR ME, SO THIS IS A FAVOR FOR YOU. NOW HURRY UP."
Britain looked at the Roman Empire, who shrugged. "Did I say I wasn't really liked? I didn't? Oh, well, now you know."
"Looking back at the few hours spent with you, it's not really surprising actually."
"YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES BEFORE I ROAST YOU."
A salute. "Yes! Don't worry, I'll be done soon! Bye!" He turned to England and grabbed him by the shoulders. "So, you agree to this transfer, right?"
Startled by the ferocity of the question and how fast Rome's personality seemed to change, England stuttered out a yes. Immediately the former empire let him go with a bright smile on his face.
Did he say how startled he was when Rome's personality changed so quickly? Oh, he just did a line ago.
"Phew! Now that the hard part is over, please sign this contract." Rome whipped out a piece a paper and held it in front of the British Empire. "It ensures that you know the consequences of this request and that no harm whatsoever is my fault. It also legalizes this request and proves that we made this pact just in case anyone disagrees and tries to disable it, excepting God. Such a disappointment, but oh well. Simple, no?"
"…Very well…" England signed the paper, if only to get the Roman off his back. Because, really, the contract made everything suspicious, but he didn't really have any other choice, did he?
"Thank you very much! Now don't curse me out when the impact hits you, you agreed to this! Besides, helping people is a true gentleman's job anyway! I need to visit my cute grandsons now, bye!" And then Rome simply faded from sight.
"Wha – "
A huge force slammed into England a moment later. Shocked and dazed, he staggered backwards and eventually fell onto the floor. Information flooded his mind; pictures, voices, even floating words swirled around in a seemingly never-ending mess of memories. England knew the side-effects wouldn't be pretty, with the huge migraine steadily growing. And then, of course , things got worse. He started glowing.
I wish the fair lady Mary could be mine.
I wish Daddy would come home.
I wish that –
I wish –
I wish –
I WISH –
The strolling people were startled by the enormous loud bout of cursing that erupted from the personification's home.
The rain was pouring down on the battlefield. The blonde youth stood before England in a blue rebel army coat, musket in hand, looking at him with intense determination in those blue eyes. Behind him was a group of more rebel soldiers, ready to assist him. Not that they posed much of a threat, since England also had a group of soldiers in red uniform at hand. It was best if they didn't interfere anyway; they would only die. No, this battle was between America and him only.
America stepped closer. "Hey Britain. All I want is my freedom. I am no longer a child nor your little brother. From now on, consider me INDEPENDENT!"
England felt betrayal and sudden anger at his colony's brashness and stupidity. Did he really think it would be that easy? He charged the impudent child and managed to knock his gun out of his hands. He aimed his gun point blank at the shocked youth's face. "I WON'T ALLOW IT!"
His hand shook. All it would take would be one tiny jerk of his finger and this idiotic revolution would be over. America wouldn't die, he was a country. They would continue to live as long as their people and land still belonged to them. England gritted his teeth.
...He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. All he saw was the shocked face of his little boy, the one he had raised and nurtured, the one that looked up to him as the greatest brother ever.
"There's no way I can shoot you. I can't..." England collapsed to his knees, his gun falling with him.
America looked at him in bewilderment as he collapsed onto the ground.
"Why? Dammit, WHY?! It's not fair..." England choked his sentence out as his colony no, his former colony looked at him with some regret.
"You know why."
England sobbed into the ground. America stared at him with sadness in his eyes. "What happened to you? You used to be great..."
Sometime later, when he had finally composed himself, England stood up, avoiding America's eyes. "Go. You won. You're finally your own country, just as you wished. Don't mock me by just standing there and staring at me," he whispered. He turbed around and took a step back towards his camp.
"England!"
Suddenly a bright light had covered his eyes he couldn't see anything it was just bright really bright too bright and his chest no soul felt like it was onfire and were those wings on his back they burned too and his soul burned and burned he screamed in pain and fear he didn't know what was happening America was shouting something he couldn't tell his voice was too far away too far too faint he tried calling for help but no sound came out he didn't know what was happening he didn't know what would happen he didn't know he didn't know he didn't know anything then he heard a voice it was faint but he could hear it he strained to hear it and the voice it said
"I'm sorry, but your body won't be able to handle this power anymore so I have to take some of it back."
And the proud personification of England embraced the cool darkness.
"America was always stupid, stupid, stupid! I raised him and took care of him and taught him everything and then he decides to throw everything that tied us together away and proclaim himself independent! Bah! As if he knows anything about being a self-dependent country! And those laws he wrote on the Declaration of Independence and Constitution? They came from me! I gave those ideas to him, and he doesn't even say 'Oh thanks for this England' or 'Thanks for that'! Such an ungrateful brat! Then he goes off and makes friends with Russia of all people! Stupid America!"
"Angleterre, perhaps you should lay off the drinks."
"WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE YOU STUPID BLOODY FROG! I thought you were too busy conquering the rest of Europe with your general! Napoleon Bonaparte, was it?"
"Oui, but you didn't appear in the last two battles so I got worried. After all, you're no fun to conquer when you're not frisky."
"GET THE FUCK OUT! YOUR APPEARANCE WAS TO SIMPLY ADD HUMOR AND IT ISN'T WORKING!" The Brit threw the personification of France out of the pub and back to his own country.
"Stupid France…stupid America…why?" England sighed. "Maybe I need more alcohol. Hey, get me another shot!" England shouted at the poor bartender working hard to satisfy the country's demands.
After a while, England began to feel unusually lightheaded and sleep. He rubbed his eyes. He knew he was drunk, but he never showed these kind of symptoms while drunk before. And there was a voice echoing through his head…
I wish to be with Italy one last time.
…Huh. That was weird. Maybe he had too much…
The blond Englishman stood up from his place on the counter and moved towards the door, ignoring the bartender's yells of "Sir! Pay your tab first". Annoyed, the man intended to drag the heavily drunk Englishman back inside have him stay until the drunk paid his tab. However, when he reached the entrance of the pub, the blonde was nowhere to be seen, just a space that was soon swallowed by the crowd which showed where he had been moments before.
Fin
AN: The end! I admit to listening dark depressing songs while writing the last two scenes.
I could have made Rome disarm England during their brief dispute, but I didn't. Ve~ And yes, floating words.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows.
-Yanime
Oh yeah! I actually wrote something this time! The flaskback to the American Revolution was written by yours truly. Sorry if it sucked, I'm the editor.
On another note, I recently started playing Shin Megami Tensei IV. I've died an annoying amount of times, but I think I'm almost done! I got to choose whether or not tosuck everything into a gigantic black hole!
-Moyashi-chan
Don't forget to review! Flames will be used to light a fireplace. I have a nasty cold right now, so I'll appreciate the warmth!