I don't own HETALIA

-chapter 1-

Ever since he was born, Arthur Kirkland was different from other children. Now, usually, being different meant being unique or talented. The only people who thought that way about Arthur were his parents. To everyone else in their tiny British town, the young boy's peculiarities were disturbing and undesirable at best.

It began when Arthur was four. His parents sent him to daycare while they worked. His father, Henry Kirkland, wrote gloriously fantastical novels about knights, fairies, giants, kings and magic. He hated having to leave his son without either of his parents, so, to make it up to him, he'd read Arthur the stories he wrote. His mother, Victoria, was a florist and had a shop in that she ran in the nearby city.

While he was at daycare, Arthur ignored all the other children and only spoke to the adults when he really needed something. This confused and worried the workers a bit, however, they assumed he was just shy, and they came to the conclusion to try and help him out of his shell by offering him toys to play with.

He refused one after another, explaining, very simply and logically in his opinion, that he didn't need them. This confused one woman even further.

"why ever not? Don't you like to play, Arthur?"

The tiny blond shrugged. "I am playing. Can't you see them?" he gestured around to the empty air. The worker looked around, perplexed.

"them? Who are they?"

He gave her what seemed to be an increasingly annoyed look and an exasperated sigh. "they're my friends. Can't you see them? They're right in front of you."

Now, this woman had had kids of her own and had gone through the imaginary friend phase with each of them. They had been down-right convinced of their friends' existence but never had they asked anyone else if they could see them as though they were so obviously right there. She wouldn't have assumed much more than an overactive imagination if it weren't for the boy's utter seriousness. What took the crazy cake, however, was at that moment, he turned his head fractionally to stare directly past her face, those large green eyes completely in focus. They widened dramatically and his huge eyebrows furrowed in distress. "No, Lizzie, don't do it!" at that second, the woman felt a sharp painful pinch at her cheek, right from where the boy was staring. She let out a yell of shock and pain and sprung to her feet, shooting out of the room, quick as a bullet.

She fumbled with the phone in her attempts to call the little...little freak's father to come get him. She nearly dropped the phone when she heard the little blond's voice say quietly. "now look what you've done...I'm in trouble."

When Henry arrived at the daycare, he spotted his son immediately. The unruly mop of gold locks wasn't difficult to spot, yet neither was the 10 foot distance that everyone else gave him. Good lord, they were avoiding him like the plague!

His little boy was seated against a wall, glaring sadly at the air in front of him. Henry walked over and picked him up. "time to come home now, King Arthur."

Arthur smiled happily at the nickname. He held tight to the front of his father's shirt as the daycare workers' glares settled on them. The woman from before stepped forward. "we don't want him here again." she spat.

Henry returned with a dark glare that could have crippled any man. "good. Because we will not be back."

With that, he stomped outside to his car. He set Arthur in his seat and buckled him in. He got into the driver's seat and let out a sigh.

"Arthur, son, why did you hit that woman?"

Arthur boiled with unbridled four-year-old rage at the sick injustice of it all. "I didn't hit that lady! It was Lizzie! And it wasn't a hit! It was a pinch." Arthur felt that the case he had made for his innocence was perfectly air tight.

Henry merely took one look at the stubborn pout fixed on his son's round face and laughed heartily. "of course, Artie."

Arthur smiled smugly. "Success!"

Success, it turns out, is short-lived. When they looked for a new daycare center the next day, not one of them would take him. It seemed that word had traveled faster than the Kirklands had anticipated. Yet, for the next few years, Arthur was in heaven. One of his parents were always home and he was learning something new every day.

His father taught him to play the piano, to play chess, and with his help, Arthur was reading bigger and bigger books everyday.

Victoria taught her son to paint and sew. She had attempted to teach him to cook as well but it seemed the poor thing was genetically predisposed to being inept in the kitchen. The first and only attempt was on of Victoria's days off during the week of Henry's birthday.

She walked up the stairs to Arthur's room. She found him in the center of the room, using it like a stage. He was dressed in Henry's red bathrobe (which trailed onto the floor due to Arthur's small stature) and a paper pirate hat on which he had drawn a sloppy skull. He held a wooden sword tight in his tiny hands and was swinging it around, pretending to fight invisible opponents.

She laughed and kneeled down in front of her now six-year-old son. "would you like to help me bake your father cookies, Captain Kirkland?"

She smiled at the way his emerald eyes lit up at the thought of being able to help. He nodded vigorously and trotted down the stairs after his mother. She took him into the kitchen and they set to work.

An hour or so later, Arthur sat on the kitchen floor, sobbing over a tray full of horrendously burnt cookies. It took two bowls of ice cream, an hour of his mother hugging him and about a hundred assurances that they weren't that bad to get him to stop.

What he lacked in culinary skills, little Arthur made up for in embroidery and sewing. It amazed Victoria to see the skillful stitches those tiny hands could produce.

During this time, his parents were also preparing for his first day of school. They bought him a bag, supplies and told him all about school and how he should behave. When the day finally came, they both went to drop him off, handing him his lunch, waving him good bye and telling him to have a nice day.

Unfortunately for Arthur, news of him had continued to travel quickly in their tiny town. All the kids, teachers and parents had been warned about the Kirkland boy. He was shunned all throughout the first day and ignored by all the teachers. Kids stole his lunch and kicked sand in his face. And no one helped him.

He got into his parents' car that afternoon with tears spilling down his cheeks. His mother turned around, unhooking the golden locket she always wore from around her neck. She leaned over and hooked it around her son's.

"here, Arthur...you can have this now. Everyone I feel sad, I open it up and know that I'm not alone." she kissed his forehead and popped the locket open. Only one half was filled. It was a picture of Victoria, Henry and a one-year-old Arthur. He looked down at it then back up at her in awe.

"We'll always love you, King Arthur." Henry added with a warm smile. "don't ever let them see you cry."

The next day was much like the last, as were the following days and weeks. But Arthur dealt with it far better. He ignored it mostly and he didn't come home crying again. Well, that is, until one day, months into the school year. He was sitting in the field near the playground, helping Lizzie gather ladybugs into a basket. Lizzie was his best friend. She was a fairy girl, around his age, with long, brown, curly hair. She always wore dresses but was most definitely a tomboy. Her real name wasn't Lizzie but neither of them could pronounce it very well so the nickname stuck. Arthur was working on it though but at the moment, it came out more like 'Liz'veta'.

Anyway, just as Arthur was placing another one of the red crawly things into the basket, a large group of kids came over, gathering in a circle around them (or rather, him, as the other children couldn't see Lizzie). Suddenly, Arthur's ears were met with a barrage of questions and rude comments.

"who are you talking to?"

"what's wrong with you?"

"do you hear voices?"

"are you crazy?

"what a weirdo!"

Arthur said nothing and one boy, upset by his lack of reaction, got right in Arthur's face. "hey, Freak! Pay attention!"

Just then, he spotted a glint of gold around Arthur's neck. He grabbed it and pulled. A cruel smile passed over his face. "you wear jewelry? What are you, a girl?"

Arthur frowned. "it's my mum's. Let go."

"aw! Your mum's? Let's see how mummy will like it when it's in pieces!"

Arthur let out a wail as the boy started to pull. "let go, you bloody git!"

Lizzie growled with anger and picked up the basket of bugs. She dumped them all on the bully's head then promptly smacked him upside the head with the basket itself.

He yelled and stumbled back, letting go of Arthur's locket.

There was a deafening silence for a few seconds before the children's frantic shouts came in louder than ever.

"did you see that?"

"the basket floated!"

"Arthur did it!"

"freak!"

"psycho!"

"weirdo!"

"WITCH!"

Silence fell again as their attention snapped to the boy who started it all.

"my dad told me! My dad's a priest and he told me that people who do things like that are witches! That they should die!"

The yelling started again, even louder.

"he's a witch!"

"witch!"

"kill the witch!"

The first stone struck him in the arm, hard.

Arthur let out a yelp, turning to see that, one by one, each child was picking up rocks of various sizes.

Then everything was a flurry of pain.

Stones hit him everywhere, one after another, relentlessly, and a constant chant of 'WITCH! WITCH! WITCH!' filled his ears.

After several seconds, perhaps a minute or so, of this, Arthur felt blood running down his skin and he fell unconscious in the grass as the school bell rang, dismissing the children for the day.

Lizzie stood, dumbstruck by the children's actions. Fairy children were never this horrible. Sure, they were known for being mischievous but never downright violent like this.

She watched in horror as her human friend fell to the ground. She picked up all the rocks that had been thrown, using her skirt as a basket. In a wrath-fueled storm, she threw one stone after another at the children, effectively causing them to run away screaming.

She knelt down next to Arthur, her anger subsiding. "Arthur...? Come on. Your parents must be here to get us by now! We can go home and you can sew me a new dress! Please...wake up..." she was shaking him and hitting his back lightly.

He groaned and sat up, entire body throbbing with pain. Lizzie smiled in relief and helped him to his feet. Tears poured down his face as she helped him walk to where his parents always parked.

When she spotted her son, Victoria let out a yell of shock. She got out of the car and rushed to his side. She picked him up and put him in the car carefully. Henry gasped and immediately sped away with them to the hospital.

Through the following 10 years, it only got worse.

Arthur noticed at age 13, he had an uncanny and frightening ability. Even without Lizzie around, strange things happened around him. Furniture would move as he got angry, people would keel over as though they had been punched when they picked on him, and he'd get odd dreams of events that sure enough came to pass. People shunned him still and a brave few risked hurting him, but between Lizzie and her lethal frying pan and Arthur's strange powers, they didn't have much of a chance.

One day, his 16th birthday to be exact, he was walking home beside Lizzie. She was begging him to let her beat a few of the other kids within an inch of their lives.

Arthur sighed and picked a bit of cat hair off his green sweater vest. He didn't own a cat but he set food and water out for the strays every day. "it would do more harm than good, Elizaveta. As much as I'd like to let you bash their bloody heads in, I can't."

She shot the British boy a pleading look. "what if I went when you weren't around?"

He shook his head. "they'd still find a way to blame me."

She sighed. "I guess you're right..."

They passed through the gate and into Arthur's front yard. He saw his mother tending to the garden, her long golden hair tucked up into her gardening hat. She smiled at him and stood up, gesturing him inside. He followed her curiously, large eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

She led him to the dining room where a large box sat on the counter. She sat down and he sat across from her. Lizzie stood behind him, watching the scene. Victoria lifted the lid of the box. "these are for you, Arthur. Your father and I have been keeping them safe for you."

Inside there was a large black tome and a deck of old-looking cards. Beside those was a jar of what looked to be salt and a box of white chalk.

Arthur's confusion settled in. "mum...what is this stuff?"

She smiled smiled and took out the jar. "these are blessing salts. They're for protection." next she took out the chalk. "I can imagine you know what to do with this." she pulled out the cards and spread them on the table carefully. "these tarot cards have been in my family for a long time. They're yours now." finally she set the old dusty volume on the table with a thump. "this book holds everything you'll ever need. From natural medicines and cures to ways to brew tea to how to build tolerances to poisons."

Arthur sat in awe at the gifts. "w-why...?"

She smiled. "because you have great power, my son...you can see and do things that others can't. Oh, and one more thing." she turned her head to look directly past Arthur. Directly at Lizzie. "take good care of him, Elizaveta."

The fairy girl stared at her, awestruck for a moment until she nodded slowly. "I'll do my best, Mrs. Kirkland."

Victoria smiled at Arthur and Lizzie before hugging her son and returning to her garden.

Arthur smiled and packed up the box. He walked up to his room with Lizzie right behind him. He set the box on his bedside table.

That night, he slept peacefully, enjoying the comfort his mother gave him. His father came in later, setting his own gift in the box as well. It was a finished book entitled 'King Arthur' by Henry J Kirkland.

Henry sat beside his son and just took in how much he had grown. He was no longer the tiny, round-faced toddler that he had bounced on his knee. Now he was a strapping 16-year-old growing into quite the clever young man. He looked more and more like his mother everyday from his golden hair to his brilliant green eyes to his delicate bone structure. It seemed the only things he had gotten from his father were his slight build and those enormous eyebrows.

Henry laughed as he tried to find a member of his side of the family who didn't have those ridiculous caterpillar brows.

He patted his son's hair and smiled. He loved watching Arthur grow and mature. He loved celebrating each and every one of his milestones and he loved the look in his wife's eyes when their son would beat him in chess or sew something special for them.

He stood up with a sigh. He loved his family more than anything and it was wonderful to see his son's usually tense expression soften into one of peace.

Sadly, peace was short-lived as well, for precisely one year later, Arthur awoke to his house blazing and going up in smoke and fire.

~~~~
AN:

Wow!~ This is my first Hetalia story and, yes, there will be many pairings though EnglandxHungary will not be one of them. I love both characters but in this they are just friends. :D Anyway, the main pair will be USUK, believe it or not with a LIIIIIITTLE BIT of onesided FRUK. CUZ I CAN. Definitely some Spamano and GerIta. OH. And yeah, I made Hungary a fairy. Don't bother me, I thought it'd be cute.

REVIEW PLEEEEEEEASE!