Hello, and welcome to this Ghoultalia shortfic. I started this somewhere in September, and felt like posting it here as well. I hope you like it!

"What are you doing in my territory, frog? Haven't I told you not to hunt here?" a voice was heard.

"But Arthur, that's unfair!" another replied. "I have to feed my petit Mathieu as well!"

"This territory is hunting grounds for my brothers and cousins. We are five people already. And unlike you, I'm concerned with keeping a low profile. I keep my killings unseen. You always seem to forget that, Francis."

Alfred was trying his hardest to concentrate on the two blonds' interaction. The mention of killings made him want to charge at both, but he was held back by witnessing the two fight. But they didn't fight with fists or guns, but... Whatever it was, Alfred couldn't describe it, and looked scary and unnatural.

That's because they're not human. A voice in his head whispered. They are...

"...Ghouls…" Alfred muttered, backtracking. He wanted nothing to do with the supernatural.

And then he ran.

Curse my bad luck constantly after me Alfred's brain repeated again and again, while 'Francis' had set out to attack him. Of course he wasn't going to let himself be killed, he was going to fight his hardest. After all, he was stronger than most people.

And he did manage well with his fists alone, ghouls were rumoured to be indestructible with normal weapons. He suffered great damage, as well, and he was sure he was going to die, if it weren't for an earthquake happening that exact moment, causing an old building to collapse over Francis.

Alfred collapsed on the cold ground, the last he heard was something along the lines of 'You're one lucky bastard...'

When Alfred regained consciousness, he realized he was in a white room. A hospital.., he guessed, and soon enough, as if to prove his guess, a man in white came inside his room.

Alfred was never one to pick up the details, but surely did that one time. His doctor seemed quite young, surely not older than thirty, with olive green eyes, clouded from all the gruesome things he saw in the hospital he worked. He had his brown hair tied into a short ponytail, and a few of his hair were striking out in a weird fashion, even in the history of curls, and much different than his cowlick.

"I'm Dr. Karpusi" he introduced himself. "But you can call me Heracles. You were extremely lucky in all your bad luck for surviving."

Alfred didn't have a chance to ask anything, interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in." Heracles said, and the door opened, to reveal the other blond from last night, the one with the messy hair... If he remembered correctly, his name was... Arthur.

"And this is Arthur. He'll be your caretaker for the next few days." he explained.

"Caretaker...?" he asked, but he was cut.

"Later. When we get home." Arthur replied, proceeding to attempt to drag him out of his bed.

"You have to go with him, Alfred." the doctor urged. "And Arthur, about Francis..."

"I know. I've taken care of his corpse." he replied, as Alfred followed him.

"I'm Dylan, and those are the twins, Patrick and Conor, and the one on the far corner of the room is Alistair." the brunet introduced himself and the other members of his new 'family'."Arthur's the youngest, but still, the most capable." he explained to Alfred as they sat on the dinner table, Arthur serving them, and leaving, claiming that he 'ate earlier'.

Of course Alfred had to ask about why they were served human limbs. "Is this some form of joke?"

"Wait, you mean, Art didn't tell you?" Conor asked, and Alfred shook his head. "We're ghouls, this is what we eat. And you need to eat, too, if you want to survive! It's a pain not eating, you can go insane!" he warned.

"But I'm not...» he started, only to be interrupted by Alistair this time."A ghoul? Partly right, seeing how you are half and half. After all, that crazy doctor did transplant the Frenchie's organs so you could survive. So, once in a month or so, you'll need to eat."

"Those people were sickly before Arthur killed them and brought them here for us. It's actually a merciful act." Dylan claimed, but Alfred wasn't so sure that he was honest.

"And what about Arthur? When did he eat last time?"

"Arthur's a monster on his own accord." Patrick replied. "Half of Francis is on you, and the other half on Arthur's stomach."

Alfred felt he was going to puke.

A/N

No detailed kagune descriptions for this chapter. Mainly because a) when I wrote it was past midnight (like now) and b) Contrast technique.

Although I feel the need to mention. Arthur's kagune is Ukaku-type. First, I love Ukaku-types. They're my absolute favourite. Second, the wings fit England because Britannia Angel/Sweet Devil AU.

Second. I love Greece. He's like, my third favourite character. Or fourth. And I'm really sad he doesn't make any appearances in fics. So here you are.

If you're here for any pairings, this fic is STRICTLY PLATONIC because I'm the author and can do anything in my fics.

Also: Dylan=Wales, Alistair=Scotland, Conor= , Patrick=Ireland