(A/N)~ Hiiii! This is my first actual story. Two parts, and rated T-M to be safe.I do not own Hetalia or any of its franchise. This is an Arthur POV.
'Why is everything I do a failure? I'm never perfect enough.'These are the thoughts that fly through my head as I sit on the floor of this cold, dark room. 'Looking back I see I was never perfect, I had been bred to fail.' With an occasional glance to the floor a gleam caught my eye's attention, the gleam of the new handgun. "What a beautiful creature", I picked up the pistol, "Please end it, my misery." I set down the hand sized killer. "Wait! May I say some final farewells." As if it heard my request it dulled its shining luster and echoed the chilling breeze that passed through the room.
'First the hall.' As I opened the door the sun's rays filled the room, it was torturing. The beams that once brought joy and comfort now only brought disappointment and memories of shattered dreams. As I passed the main door to the kitchen a voice resonated from within the room.
"Mr. Kirkland!" One of the few servants had found me, damn.
"Sebastian, please just call me Arthur, no need for the formality." With a fake smile plastered on my face I turned towards the hardworking man. Bloody git, delaying my plans for salvation. I know he doesn't care for me all he wants is his bloody paycheck. No one ever cares what happens to me…
"Sir, are you okay? The tall man bent down to look at my face."After all you were in that room for a while, alone." I swear he winked at me, nasty pervert. I mustered the strength to chuckle,
"I swear sometimes you're as bad as that bloody frog Francis." For the first time, in a long while, I made someone laugh. And not just a chuckle, a laugh of pure bliss and delight. Oh nice it would have been to claim that as a victory and then strike up a conversation, but not today. "Indeed, well carry on sir!" I smiled halfheartedly as he turned back into the kitchen. Oh how I will miss such loyalty even if it was just an illusion.
I continued to walk down the Great Hall, passing a picture either family or deceased friends when I saw it. Of course it had to come back when I pass… him. I looked towards the photograph of my big brother, Scott. Oh how I loathed him on the brink of hate.
'Honey, why is my son blonde?'
'Oh forget the hair, look at em eyebrows he's got there.' That damn accent ran around in my mind. 'Scott does have a point, look at them. Not only that he's so damn tiny.' I was born into the Kirkland family with the brightest blonde hair that wouldn't matter if my entire family has predominantly bright auburn red.
'Hey Iggy, when are you ever gonna grow up?' "Shut up!" I screamed, I knew he couldn't hear me yet I just had to. I hated his damn thick Scottish accent, his blood red hair, and worst of all, his fucking massive ego!
'Hey, hey, hey Iggy!' screamed Scott as he ran towards me. 'You know bloody well my name is Arthur!' "Shut up! Leave me alone!" Why was I screaming at someone who wasn't there? "Please!" It will never leave me that bloody wanker's accent kept echoing in my head. I collapsed onto the floor and curled up into a ball, tis is how I have learned to cope with my thoughts.
After a short while I picked myself off the floor, Iggy. As much as I hated the git, I still respected him… after all he is my big brother. "Good bye" I whisper knowing he'll never hear me.
"Scotty! Help me!"But before I could get a response my father pulled me back in the room. "I'm not done with you, you little piece of blonde shit!" My back stung from past lashes reopened by the most recent attack. "Why did you run, you know what happens when you try to leave before I'm done with you." Why did I pay for something that never happened? I was whipped, beaten, cut and at times more gruesome torture than one can imagine only because my actual father believed my mom was unfaithful to him.
"Please stop!" I knew it was useless why would he listen to me now.
"Don't talk dammit! That bitch of a wife might hear!"I knew I could withstand my physical abuse but I would not stand for the verbal abuse about my own mother. I did the only thing I could, I head-butted him in the stomach and ran for the door.
"Scotty! Please help!" I had to crawl now I lost the feeling of my legs. "Arthur!"
I saw him lean down in front of me before I succumbed to the darkness. He called me Arthur.
When I awoke my mother and brother stood over me with red eyes. "What happened? Why are you guys crying?" Then and there I felt the sharp pain in my back.
"Don't move!"Scott's voice was full of anger and what seemed to be regret. Was he crying? Listening to his command I slowly laid back down when it hit me, Dad. I shot up,
"Where is he?" The panic in my voice was extraordinarily high that Scott had to hold me still.
"Hold still Arthur! You'll hurt yourself even worse than you already are!" Shocked by his tone and the fact he used my name given to me at birth I obeyed his command. "Please Arthur, it'll be alright, I took care of that bampot." With those words I felt a wave of relief consume me.
"Good."That was the last exchange of words that we shared before I was sent away to fend for myself.
For my safety, I was sent back to my own island, at that time I was called Britannia although I'd rather be called England or just plain Britain. There I met Francis, aka France. "And who might you be?" The blonde Frenchman asked.
"Buzz off you frog!" He was older than me by at least two years old.
"Who? Moi, a frog!" That accent made me cringe in disgust and for a brief second, desire. Those blue eyes, the blonde hair, and that accent it seemed more loving than the accents that filled my past home.
"Yes. But before you leave does the frog have a name?" During our time together Francis acted like my guardian, even when I didn't want him to be. As I grew older those feelings of desire grew stronger towards Francis. I would have dreams of us together; fate had finally released me from its dark, oppressive glare and had allowed me the state of bliss. That frog that I had met had turned into a prince and he was all mine. The blonde Frenchy returned my affection but something seemed off with him. Fool, that's what happens when you trust someone. And that's just what I did; I let that damn frog into my heart. Shortly after that the blonde douche tried to take control over my countryside to the west, I should've known, and that's when the fights began. First they were just verbal, politics and economical differences, but then the wanker had to bring in the cannons. He never would have imagined his young lover would fight back, never. I won; I had beaten the crap out of him. My first taste of power, victory, blood, and damn it tasted good!
"My how did it get so late?" The grandfather clock in the grand foyer struck five. "I better speed up my farewells", I pushed myself off the floor and walked back to the room. I light a candle as I entered the room my knees made contact with the floor although I don't remember falling. "I had forgotten how cheery this room once was." I looked around and saw everything Alfred had left here when he was a child. "I remember those nights when the storms were terrible and I sat right here and sang to Al." I patted the right bed side corner and knelt down beside the bed while I started to silently sob into the sheets. "Why must they all leave me? First Alfred, then Zara and Cody, and even Erin left my side to live with Scott. That damn wanker." I muttered those last words when the thought of Scott crossed my mind.
Well I guess it's time." I slowly slid across the room until I reached the center. There I met back with the creature that promised redemption and it glistened in the candlelight oh so beautifully. I brought the gun up to my face, "I'm ready when you are." I sent the candle down beside me and finally brought the end of the barrel to my temple. "Goodbye." I whispered as I closed my eyes and released the trigger.