Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its characters. I only own the plot.

Golden Eagle

Chapter One

Upon the Wolf

Alfred lifted the wooden crates, his arms maintaining his grip while he walked out of the ship, the wooden port clacking below him from his worn shoes. He gave a small grin as he stacked the crate softly onto the top of another crate, pride flaring in his chest. The descending sun made the sea behind him transform into vibrant waves, crashing against the rocky shore with water spraying into the air. Alfred loved the scent of spice and salt drifting through his atmosphere, almost forgetting about the other fifteen crates needing to be lifted onto shore.

His boss Angus, a scruffy bearded man with fierce eyes, stared at him impatiently, brushing fish oil from his dirty tunic. After Alfred didn't respond to his aggressive staring, he barked. "Jones, quit staring and do your damn work!"

Alfred jumped at the unexpected order from his black-haired boss, and nodded with a smile. "Sure boss!"

Angus grumbled as he trotted back onto the ship with a limp in his step, while Alfred ran back onto the vessel with rare energy; Alfred was happy that he didn't have to stay on the wooden craft, since nothing ever happened for days while the rocking of the mobile ship almost made him nauseous. He is happy to see civilization once again, and the smell of fresh food waited upon him to devour until his belly was satisfied. Alfred was just plain happy for the positive day, ignoring the fact that his boss gave him work until seven o'clock.

Alfred did the rest of his rather easy work for the day, counting each minute and second for his profession to end so he could run along the cobblestone path to a well-lit restaurant or tavern. Alfred clicked his tongue numerous times in impatience as he lifted the last of the crates onto the port, with Angus behind him, analyzing his progress.

"Alright, I helped you with your cargo, bro. Doesn't that deserve a night at the tavern?" Alfred joked to Angus, who grunted in annoyance. Angus regarded each crate with some hint of satisfaction, walking around it slowly to access each detail Alfred has put into making everything right. Alfred wiped the sweat off his forehead, some nervous energy growing from the uncertainty Angus' body movements portrayed.

"Alright, you're free to go, Jones," Angus stated in his rough voice, making Alfred smile. Angus stopped him before he celebrated. "But you still have work tomorrow, so don't be late." Angus placed a rummaging hand into his tunic's front pocket, taking out ten silver coins, placing it into Alfred's hand. "And here's your silver for today, use it to get a room for tonight."

Alfred nodded, grabbing tightly onto the silver. "Thanks Mr. Kell, it's nice to see you do care about me."

Angus scrunched his nose at his statement. "Jones, just go."

Alfred nodded, walking away from the darkening port as men began to light oil lamps on barrels as the seagull cries died down. Alfred eyed the town of Raulf with its lively vibes from the hanging lamps held by colorful wires to the buildings lit with floral or clay decorations; Alfred thought the town was a sign of paradise compared to the other towns he visited while Angus sold and traded his cargo.

Alfred pocketed his silver into his jacket's pocket, walking through the bright streets of Raulf, the people's smiles being reflected by his. Alfred knew he has to find a hotel; the thought of sleeping in an actually comfortable bed hit him, and his first priority is to find a cheap but pleasant room to reside in. Alfred grimaced at the remembrance of the hard mattresses and the uneven filled pillows when he was at sea, but shook it aside as he focused on his first concern.

Alfred stopped abruptly when he noticed the sign of a bright inn hanging loosely above the door, the words Plytoon written in fading black ink. Alfred opened the birch door, hearing the excited chatter of sober people, and the slurs and catcalls from drunk men. Alfred spotted a man wiping the bar's surface with a dirty rag, looking displeased when a glass was thrown at a wall, ricocheting glass scattering while the ale spilt onto the floor with the accompanied howling of laughter from intoxicated groups. Alfred could tell that man didn't have the patience to be quiet from how his eye twitched in disdain from the obnoxious guffawing, and frowned when he walked up to the man, sitting on a bar stool.

The bartender glared at him, but Alfred just gave a smile when he suddenly grabbed the rag from him, making the man blink in surprise. Before the bartender can explode at how Alfred was being rude from his sudden action, Alfred got off his seat to walk over to the location of the spill, taking the rag and using it to wipe the sticky drink off the floor. The bartender relaxed his shoulder before he shouted something obscene to Alfred, and sighed with relief that someone had the decency to help him; the bar was never this loud, but with the oncoming events happening in Raulf the services of food and drinks frustrated him to the point where his eye began to twitch.

After Alfred finished washing up the alcoholic drink from the floor, and stood up, returning the rag by dropping it onto the bartender's table. The man raised his eyebrow in question. "You needed the help; the inn looks like it doesn't have that much staff to handle the consequences of drunk individuals," Alfred explained to the confused man, who gave a small 'ah' as a reply.

"At least there are some nice people in this inn. There are two types of customers: drunk assholes and sober ones that don't want to interfere," the bartender snorted, resting his left elbow onto the table's surface. "So, anything today?"

Alfred beamed. "Yes, I want a room, and some food."

The man nodded. "Yeah, that will be three silver, and for the food, it will vary."

Alfred took out three silver coins and placed it on the table. "Yeah, but I'll just grab a piece of bread with mash potatoes in it, and soup; I don't want to get sick, after eating bread too long I think my digestive system forgot how to digest correctly."

The bartender snickered. "Well, twenty five copper then."

Alfred extracted twenty five coppers from his pockets, his stamina being replaced by exhaustion. The bartender noticed as Alfred gave him the money. "I'll deliver your food up, just go to sleep. Your body looks like it's about to collapse from exhaustion."

Alfred gave a grateful smile. "Thanks, I'll be on my way."

The bartender nodded. "Room in the second hallway, third to the left."

Alfred exited the lobby up the stairs to his room, the aroma of birch and melting wax welcoming him to his bed. Alfred placed his coat onto a nearby coat rack, and jumped onto the bed with a satisfied sigh; the mattress releasing the tension between his shoulders and upper body. Alfred noted the source of the frustrating light from the oil lamp on his bedside that kept him away from his sleep, and vanquished the flame with a single puff of breath. Alfred gave an inner smile, turning his body around in the blankets, going to sleep.

~Golden Eagle~

The bustling markets were filled with radiant colors and smells, people walking around with baskets or sacks filled with food or jars of parsley. The reddish tarps and fabrics covering the stalls with shade were held by poles struck to the ground, and fishing boats will alarm with the sound of bells. Numerous workers in short-sleeved clothing were hauling fish, cargo, and even packages of wine to the port, seagulls screeching above them in repeating circles.

Alfred wore his regular clothing: a rugged coat, a white shirt, and muddy pants. He was holding a crate full of molasses, the strong scent whipping his face as he trotted with Angus around the market place. Alfred was sweating from the sun's heat, his neck area becoming damp; carrying around a crate of refined sugar didn't help as the intense weather plus the job of holding it aggravated him.

Angus stopped in his tracks, fixing his eyes on Alfred who waited for orders. "Give me the molasses, Jones."

Alfred complied and gave him the heavy crate, relaxing his rigid muscles after an hour of carrying it. Angus heaved it onto his chest.

"You're done for the day, Jones. I'll handle this," Angus responded, with Alfred stretching himself.

"Sure thing, Angus," Alfred answered, waving to Angus' leaving figure that entered a tavern that Alfred didn't recognize.

Alfred turned his back on the tavern and started exploring Raulf with growing curiosity, the terracotta and stone used throughout the town brightening but straining his eyes.

"Come back here!" a commanding voice got Alfred's attention as someone pushed him to the ground as he heard frantic footsteps fading with the accompanied sounds of metal against the ground. Alfred groaned as he got off the dirty floor, his cheek scraped from the friction between hard ground.

Alfred looked around to see a crowd staring at a nearby alley, many whispering about the current ideal that Alfred didn't witness because of being shoved by. Alfred looked uncertain at the alley, but decided to enter the filthy crevice between the buildings, his curiosity overpowering him.

Alfred caught the signs of footprints in the dirt and the faint sounds of shouting men, with Alfred running after the source of the panic-stricken noise. Alfred maneuvered through broken glass and wood, making sure shrapnel didn't scrape his feet because of his open-toed shoes. Before long, Alfred saw the guards in a dead end, holding rope that connected to a tight ring around a wolf's neck. The wolf growled in hostility, the rope choking it when it struggled, its eyes dilating in supposed anger.

Alfred gasped at the ferocious creature, not expecting to see a animal running around the town of Raulf. The wolf's white fur was covered in grime and blood, its paws trying to scratch the guards.

One of the guards noticed Alfred's presence, turning around with his grip still on the rope. "Hey! What the hell are you doing here?"

Alfred widened his eyes when the guard grabbed their sword from their sheath, its metal glistening in the limited sunlight from above. The guard lifted his sword and slashed at Alfred, with Alfred dodging by backing away by a few steps. The second guard narrowed his eyes at him, placing his unoccupied hand on the handle of his sword that was hidden snugly in his sheath.

The guard armed with his sword motioned for the other to have a strong grip on the rope as he released his own, getting into a defensive stance before he lashed his sword at Alfred once again, with the second strike cutting into Alfred's shoulder where he howled in pain, his hand gripping to the wound that penetrated layers of flesh. The wolf gave a snarl as he whipped his body back and forth in frantic jerks, his teeth bared as the other guard held onto the rope with a vice-like grip.

The guard charged at Alfred, the sword held firmly in his white knuckles, striking at his chest; Alfred spotted a piece of stone as long as a stake, grabbed it with quick fingers and in a split second he parried the sword by making a boundary between him and the sword with the stone shard, using his strength to push the guard off him which made him stumble a few feet back. The guard almost lost his hold on the handle but went back into his defensive stance, with Alfred breathing heavily.

Alfred had to think quickly before the guard swung the weapon at him again, his shoulder still stinging in pain from the gash. Before the guard can raise his sword one more time, Alfred bent down and grabbed dust and bits of shrapnel into his hand – wincing from how the shards bit into his skin – and threw them into the guard's eyes, who began to scream as his eyes stung from glass slitting parts of his cornea with the dust giving him temporary blindness, trying to rub the filth from his eyes in vain. The guard released his hand on his sword, which clattered to the ground. Alfred dropped the stone shard and picked up the sword, turning his head to see the other guard wielding his with the blade directed to him, the uncertainty mixed with determination in his eyes gave evidence to the pressure of being preoccupied while another threat made him vulnerable to attacks.

Alfred knew and shook his head in disapproval. "I'm not going to hurt you." Alfred tried to reassure the man, but the guard was still having inner conflict if Alfred was lying or not.

"No, they always say that," the guard responded, his grip not faltering as he held his sword and the rope. "Just get out of here! What do you possibly want?"

Alfred looked perplexed; he was just a cargo worker that was just curious on why the guards were holding down a wolf – which isn't a native animal to Raulf's sunny plains – and now the guard looked at him like he was a criminal. "I don't need anything, I'm not an enemy!"

The guard shook his head violently, ignoring him. "No, you want the wolf! You'll never get the wolf!"

Alfred widened his eyes in surprise; the thought of wanting the wolf that had the appearance of a vicious savage made him look at the guard incredulously, although the guard looked serious about his proclamation. "What? Why would I want a dog that looks blood thirsty?!" For a second Alfred almost thought that the wolf looked insulted, but he didn't think about it as he directed his vision at the guard.

The guard's stance wavered, his eyes showing inner horror as his grip loosened on the rope around the hoop of the wolf; the wolf noticed and began to thrash his body, and the rope was loose from the guard's grasp – much to the guard's fear – and pounced on him, claws dark as ebony striking across the guard's open face, who fell to the ground on his back and screamed in pain as red cuts followed after the claws came into contact with the man's flesh. Alfred stared in fear as the man's wounds cut deeply into his skin, his screams almost echoing throughout the alley and must have reached to the open streets of Raulf at how loud his pain could be heard.

Alfred could feel his heart beating rapidly, watching the body movements of the wolf after the guard's screams died down, who was currently staring at him with amethyst eyes – stern and fierce. Alfred could see how those eyes examined his very body – his eyes filled with fear of getting killed, his bleeding shoulder, his chest moving from his lungs being refilled with oxygen - and that stunned Alfred a little; the wolf didn't attack or do anything hostile, it's just looking at him curiously with a hint of inquiry.

The wolf then growled at something out of his field of vision – which was on his left – and when Alfred turned his head to the direction where the wolf is he saw the first guard standing up, open eyes narrowing as blood dripped down from it, which almost horrified Alfred at how much glass has been inserted into the eyes to make him bleed profusely. The guard held the stone shard that Alfred dropped earlier in a tight grip, his head looking around frantically since his eyes were in a temporary blindness from how red and dirty it was, tears also running down his face.

"Where are you?!" the blind guard shouted, anger clearly in his voice, scaring America. "You will pay for this!"

The wolf growled as it lunged at the guard, its snout bared its teeth as his claws and incisors came in contact of the guard, at that moment Alfred's vision blacked out, the sounds of the guard's screaming fading in the distance, but Alfred knew that it echoed – he knew he would get nightmares from it.

~Golden Eagle~

Alfred's breathing regulated to a normal pace, his muscles relaxing as cool air touched his skin, his shoulder aching much to his annoyance. His eyes felt sore as he groaned, darkness in his vision as he tried to open his eyes.

"Don't move," a voice warned, the sound of gushing water nearby, Alfred's nose compressing from a strong smell that he wasn't use to smelling. "You're hurt."

Alfred gave an uncomfortable grunt as he ignored the man as he tried to stand up, wincing as pain grew on his shoulder. An unexpected force pushed him down to the cold ground, making him gasp in surprise. His eyes opened, struggling to know where he was, and what he saw was a man, an annoyed man as he pushed him down again before he stood up entirely.

"Don't be stupid, your shoulder is still wounded; you fainted from blood loss so you better make sure to not kill yourself," the man with a heavy accent grumbled, taking gauze and inspecting Alfred's shoulder, holding it in placed as he wrapped the wound.

Alfred glanced at the man that gently pressed the bandage around his shoulder that had dry blood splotches around a deep cut that almost horrified him. His hair had the color of pale blond, almost the texture of snow, his strands of hair wavy in appearance. The man had a broad build, with clothes the hue of grey and white worn snuggly on his body. A pink-whitish scarf adorned his neck, covering it entirely. His face was covered in dirt, almost covering his disgruntled mouth, his nose, and the amethyst eyes that accompanied it. Alfred blinked at the last detail, knowing that's the same eye color that the wolf possessed before he blacked out.

The man finished wrapping his wound, eyeing it one more time before he stood up. "You're fine. Stand up."

Alfred stood up, his vision clearing as he examined his surroundings. He wasn't in the dead end of the alley anymore, his location completely changed since they were now in the sewers, the pungent smell of the water attacking his nose as he gripped onto the brick walls for support while the man looked around in caution.

Alfred looked back at the man, who was inserting leftover gauze back into his pocket. He never saw this man before, and from how his clothes were ragged with rips and tears in different areas he knew that the man was penurious. Alfred wondered if the man had found him while wondering the alleys while he was unconscious, but for now the man looked rather exhausted and vexed, so it would be best not to question him about it while he's in his current state.

"What happened?" Alfred muttered to himself, realizing how cold it was because of his lack of upper body wear. "And what happened to my shirt and jacket?"

The man sighed. "I can't tell you much of the information, but let's just say that we made too much of a scene." The man explained as he crept to the end of a corner, passing a glance behind the corner, then quickly hiding himself by pressing his body against the wall. "No more time, we have to go."

Before Alfred could speak, the man took his hand and tugged him to the opposite end of the sewers, almost stumbling from the man's surprising strength for someone that looks poverty-stricken. Alfred ran with the man, hearing distant shouts behind them, which made him quicken his pace as they went around a corner, in front of them was iron ladders leading upward to above the ground. The man took a hold of the bars and went up. "Come on," he ordered in a hushed voice to Alfred, who complied as he grabbed onto the ladder when there was enough space to begin his ascent while the man saw the minuscule beams of sunlight from a manhole cover above him.

The man pushed the cover out of its hatch, and pushed it to the side so he can climb out of the hole. When he did so, Alfred rose out with his body slumping down to the ground and he breathed heavily. The man rose an eyebrow at Alfred. The man saw a red mark that went around Alfred's lower part of his right leg, and knew what happened just by seeing it. The man could hear shouting from the hole they came from, and placed the manhole cover back to its position.

"Find anything, quickly," the man ordered in haste, looking around for anything to block the manhole. Alfred nodded as he spotted a crate, and went behind it, beginning to push the box to the location of the sewer hole. The man assisted him, both of their strength able to move the crate above the cover before the guards began to push on it. They could hear the sound of muffled yells mixing in with banging under them, their sighs of relief calming them down.

With the few minutes that Alfred used to comprehend where they were, he looked around to see that it was already dark, the stars shining brightly enough for him to almost make out the constellation of the Saggitarius just by looking at the star's formations. He could see lights coming from windows and the streets, still hearing the chatter from happy town folk. Alfred also noticed that they stood in another alley, where two paths divided by left to right based on his vision, with the ground still as filthy as the last one with bits of shrapnel, dying weeds, and pebbles in disarray.

"The crate won't hold them back for long," the man said, looking around the alley. "Come on, we need to escape the town."

"Hold on!" Alfred objected, looking at the man with an incredulous expression. "Why are we leaving the city? Who are you? Why are they coming after us?! How did you find me?!"

The man grimaced as his eyes dashed from one of the continuous alleys to his left, to Alfred, and to the banging near the covered manhole cover. Alfred was just staring at him with narrowed eyes, waiting for an answer. "There is no time. Either you get captured, or you don't."

"What about my job? My life?" Alfred demanded an answer.

"Forget your job!" the man shouted as a response. "No matter what the circumstance, the guards know your face now. The guards alarmed the others, and they could be interrogating anyone who has been even in the closest proximity to your face."

Alfred bit his tongue before he could argue when he heard the crate moving slightly. He doesn't even know this man, and he wants him to follow him out of the city; Alfred knew that the man's orders were crazy, but he was right about the guards. He doesn't want to get captured, since he has no more money, and wasting his life in prison almost made him shiver in repulsiveness. Although, Alfred didn't trust him, going with strangers was one of the lessons many had to learn, and some had to learn in painful ways, so Alfred was suspicious of the person who urged him to leave the city. But he had no choice, Alfred had assaulted guards, and one of them must've survived to give an account of him hurting them so they must be looking around for him, and with the stories of how ruthless the prisons were on the island that Raulf was located on, he would rather trust this man – and counting how he wrapped his wounds Alfred thought he was polite enough to follow (although his type of behavior related to being polite was unpredictable).

With those remaining thoughts, Alfred gave a stern but approving nod at the pale-blond-haired man, and both of them retreated from the alleys, their footsteps fading as night beckoned upon them.