Title: Won't Give Up
Fandom: Axis Powers: Hetalia
Rating: T
Genre: Comedy/Romance
Pairing: Roman Empire/Belarus…
Summary: A trip through time, and the annoying suitor she gained from it hadn't exactly been Belarus' while ransacking England's house for a simple spell.
(A/N): Right. So, I have no clue how I ever thought of this in the first place, or why I'm attempting to write it. You be the judge; any good?
Disclaimer: No.
Won't Give Up
An Axis Powers: Hetalia fan fiction by Triangular Prism
I.
To say that Belarus was angry, was perhaps a bit of an understatement. In fact, it was probably the understatement of the year; no, the century even. There really was no way at all to describe how outraged Belarus felt the day she discovered that the nation of England had a peculiar habit of summoning her beloved big brother on a routine basis with his strange magical powers. But then again, who wouldn't be angry about not knowing that one could summon Russia whenever they felt like it?
Needless to say, a dresser and a large, expensive mirror received the unfortunate brunt of her rage, sent sailing from a second story window to become subject to the matter of gravity. Not that Belarus minded; she'd never liked them much anyway. She was too busy clutching a phone in her hand and pouring out her woe to big brother Russia on the other end.
"But brotheerrrrr!" the pale-haired, female nation was wailing, "Why? Why have you never told me of this yourself? Why do you let yourself be summoned by that... that English filth?"
"...Because it never seemed important, sister!" stuttered a frightened Russia, "Who told you this, anyway?"
"I heard it from Lithuania, and he heard it from Poland who got it from Italy who heard it from Romano who heard it from Spain who heard it from Prussia who was told by America..."
Russia made private plans to visit Lithuania in the near future.
"...And brother, why can't I summon you myself? At least I would know what I was doing! How dare that scone-breath disrupt your life like that, when he knows you have much more important things to do than be dragged into his silly magic tricks!"
"You are absolutely right, dear sister! But you know what, I actually have important things to do right now, so I really can't talk to you any longer!"
"But I-"
"Good-bye!"
And with that, Russia hastily hung up. Belarus stared at the phone in her hands in disbelief, hearing the dial tone ring. Then she turned and hurled it against the wall, smashing the poor piece of machinery into a hundred tiny pieces.
"Big Broooootheeeeeeeer!" she screamed, her cries tearing through her house and straining the windows near breaking point.
After a few minutes or so of rage, Belarus finally calmed down, smoothing her dress and brushing back pale strands of hair that had flown out of place. Then, with a face of utmost determination, Belarus left to begin an arduous trek to England's house. She would take care of this with composure and grace, the nation decided, and... ask... the other if he would be so kind as to please give her his spell that summoned Russia at any given moment to her so that she could take good care of it so that if would not fall into the hands of someone who would abuse it.
Belarus did so love her big brother. So much. Except, he was so busy all of the time and couldn't visit with her. He always told her so! Wouldn't he love her and be proud of her if she took this spell from England? Then he wouldn't be summoned by a complete idiot when it inconvenienced him. And maybe... maybe then... she could summon him! Then Russia could take a break from his work and visit her. Wouldn't he be so happy? Visit whenever he liked, time and distance no longer an issue. Yes, he would be so happy! He would be ever so grateful and then he would maybe even start to love her like she did! He would love her so much he might even acquiesce to her proposals and marry her...
What started as controlled, even strides through her country began to change, quicker and more hurried, until Belarus was tearing through borders so quickly she was a blur of blue silk, skirts hiked around her waist and stampeding through underbrush with chaos in her wake.
Lithuania blanched in his yard as he saw her streaking past. Poland yelled at her to get off his property when he caught her running past his house, and while Germany was wise enough to recognize a rampage when he saw one, he still shook his head in resignation and phoned Netherlands to let him know that a certain crazy country was on a warpath again.
Belarus had a mission. Nothing short of a tank could stop her now... and even America would hesitate to try that one.
It was a quiet, rainy morning in England. On a rural drive far from the hustle and bustle of the city, a stately manor stood in the mist, old and elegant. England had lived in it for centuries, and was quite proud of how it had lasted through the ages under his care and attention. Why, it could easily be called a friend, one that waited for him to come home with open arms and a welcoming embrace from a hard day's work. It certainly had that charm, from the proud yet faded paint to the clean oaken door with a large brass knocker.
Belarus didn't give much thought at all to the age and charm of the house and simply smashed down the door with a well-placed kick. Splinters flying, she stormed through to the entry way, red-faced and panting as she yelled for England at the top of her lungs.
"ENGLAND!" the nation roared, "I AM HERE FOR THE SPELL! SURRENDER IT TO ME AT ONCE!"
Standing in the threshold amidst the wreckage of the door, skirts billowing around her, Belarus was a frightening sight to behold, an in reply to her declaration, the nation was met with an overwhelming...
…silence.
Belarus stood awkwardly for about a minute; nothing happened.
Well then. Maybe England was hiding. Sometimes her brother would do that too. She quickly smoothed down her dress and hair until she was composed again, and set to seek him out.
England wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't hiding under the coffee table, or the bed, or in his wardrobe. All the closets were thrown open to reveal... nothing, and Belarus even checked the oven rather doubtfully, just to make sure she had looked everywhere possible. Finally she stood in the hallway again, hands on her hips in exasperation. Despite her plans of torture and threats, it appeared... that England just wasn't home.
Drat.
She'd just have to look for this supposed spell herself. Where to even start?
There were bookshelves in his sitting room. Belarus decided to start there, and hope to find a book labeled 'SPELL FOR SUMMONING RUSSIA' on it anywhere. Would England be the type to leave all his important books out in the open? Probably not.
Not that it would stop her or anything.
Invisible to the naked eye and all but impossible to sense without proper skill or training, Belarus was far from alone as she thought she was.
Mainly because there were a horde of magical creatures behind her, watching in outrage as she systematically began to destroy all of their dear friend's possessions.
-This is crazy!- Tinker Belle cried indignantly, watching books and picture frames rain down upon the floor. -Stupid girl, what is she doing? Why did she have to come when England wasn't home?-
-This is bad... this is very bad...- Flying Mint Bunny fretted, flying in tight circles and sending minty feathers scattering. -W-What can we do? She can't see us or anything...-
-Let's just scare her away!- One fairy demanded, to the general agreement of others.
-But how? She isn't afraid of anything!-
-She's not just going to scream and faint if we make some of the furniture float.-
-I bet she'd cut it all up anyway. Then where would we be?-
Silence. Oblivious to the conversation behind her, Belarus had finished going through all the bookshelves she could find and was stomping her way back to England's room. The fairy creatures followed her, humming with displeasure.
-I think we should get England,- came the opinion from Flying Mint Bunny. Uni nickered in agreement. -He's better with this kind of stuff, right? He could talk her out of it?-
-Yeah, right!-
Some of the colder, darker-hued fairies were scowling, their buzzing increasing as Belarus ripped the covers from England's bed and ransacked his desk, papers flying everywhere. They did not like this nation invading their friend's house. They did not want her in the house at all. Flying Mint Bunny noticed this uneasily.
-I think we should play some tricks,- a fairy snickered, fire dancing in their eyes, -She wants some magic? I say we give it to her!-
To Flying Mint Bunny's horror the agreement was louder, an angry buzzing filling the air.
-We can't do that!- it cried, aghast, -What would England say? She's a nation too!-
-Oh, we won't do anything... bad... too her...- the same fairy said, -Just show her a little... taste of what she wants.-
The buzzing was growing louder and louder to a fevered pitch, further supplemented as in a fit of frustration Belarus flipped the mattress from the bed and dumped all of England's clothes from the dresser to the floor.
"Stupid Brit," she muttered, storming out of the room to look elsewhere.
It was the last straw. With a swell of wings and angry chatter, the fey swept out of the room with the more mischievous ones at their head. The most conservative of them all, Flying Mint Bunny was left behind, nervous and panicky.
-This is bad. I have to get England!- It squeaked, before bolting from the room as fast as its little wings would carry it.
England's house was boring.
Belarus had no particular regrets in damaging whatever she happened to get her hands on, because it all seemed so old. Sure, the island nation would probably have some redecorating to do once she was finished, but she was practically doing him a favor by boosting the demolition progress. Who kept cabinets full of china, anyway?
By this time Belarus had searched a good chunk of the first and second floor of England's house. There was still some exploring to be done given the fact it was a manor, and rather large... plus, to her dismay there thus far had been no book with 'SPELL FOR SUMMONING RUSSIA' on its cover.
Disappointing.
What to do now...? Wandering through the halls, looking for something that might clue her to the location of the elusive spell, Belarus did not notice the sudden drop in temperature. Nor the way the very air itself went still, heavy and oppressive.
Then, a cold breeze came wafting through the hall, brushing the back of her neck and sending her skirts fluttering.
This she gave no thought. Obviously smashing the door down would let drafts into the house.
Some stray pieces of paper were suddenly whisked upwards, skittering past her and Belarus watched them go, feeling strands of hair sliding across her shoulders to float in the air.
That was when with a loud groan, and a creaking of wood, a part of the wall swung slowly open in front of her.
Tea time.
He bloody loved tea time. There was nothing England loved more than a break from politics, and a quiet, comfortable hour in his favorite cafe with tea, a pastry, and a Sherlock Holmes mystery.
The island nation was revisiting The Hound of the Baskervilles today, flipping the pages and sipping from his cup... when instead of tea, all he could suddenly taste was a thick, furry pelt on his tongue.
Foolishly think a mouse of some sort had inexplicably landed in his tea cup, England shot upwards with a strangled yell, only to see that the fur was bright green in color and also feathered.
"Flying Mint—" he started to yelp, but remembering his surroundings clamped his mouth shut before any lasting damage was done.
Half the cafe was staring at him.
"Er. Gotta love this book, right?" he said quickly, flourishing his book with false cheer, "The tension! I really gets to you!" A few patrons gave him half-hearted nods, staring a moment longer before resuming their conversations. Keeping the smile plastered across his face, England collected book, tea, and flying green mammal respectively, then hurried across the cafe to the furthest booth he could find.
"Minty! What on earth is the meaning of this?" the nation hissed as soon as it was safe to whisper. Huddled in his hands, the fairy was quivering in exhaustion from its frantic flight to find him.
-England... it's bad, it's real bad!- it only gasped out.
"What's bad? I swear, if America is flying over for a surprise visit, I'll—"
-No! Even worse!- Flying Mint Bunny took a deep breath, fur puffed out in fear. -Belarus... Belarus has broken into your house!-
"WHAT!"
This time, the whole cafe swiveled to look at his outburst. England quickly hunkered down nervously, fairly close to sliding under the table all together. The cute waitress he'd been flirting with earlier was not giving him a funny look. He quickly propped his book up for more cover.
"Belarus? Belarus? What in the Queen's name is she doing inside my house?" he whimpered.
-I'm not sure.- Here the rabbit faltered. -She yelled something about a spell. Then she started messing all your stuff up.-
"Bollocks. She couldn't have heard..."
England had a fairly good idea what Belarus was looking for. Quite frankly he was surprised it hadn't happened earlier, but now was not the time for speculation. He was also sorely miserable to know she was 'messing up his stuff,' so to speak.
-What are you waiting for? You've got to hurry back!- Flying Mint Bunny was urging him, launching from the table to fly around his head.
The fairy was floored abruptly when England jumped back with a look of horror.
"Go... back? Are you insane?" the British nation demanded, "Not with her there! I'd rather not deal with one of her mood swings right now!"
If Flying Mint Bunny had the proper jaw its mouth would have dropped open.
-But...But... you don't understand!- it pleaded. England only shook his head rapidly. Then he picked up his book.
"You know what? I'm going to wait it out. Better in the long run to clean up than risk my neck getting her out. Or should I call Russia? Fat bloody chance for that!"
He hmph'd, returning rather resolutely to his book. Flying Mint Bunny struggled with its words after that.
-England, it's more than just Belarus... I'm scared, really scared!-
"Well, I would be too if—"
-Not of her, for her!-
The book came down a quarter of an inch.
"...What do you mean by that?" England asked suspiciously. The fairy gulped.
-I'm talking about...-
Belarus peered into darkness, at the very edge of a very old, very creaky wooden stair case.
Suspicion flooded her veins, heightening her instincts and sharpening her senses as she stared into the gloom. Strange that a hidden door like that would open all on its own... where did it even lead?
Far below she caught a twinkle of light. Warm and inviting, the tiny glow almost beckoned to her, calling her down to the depths. The nation narrowed her eyes. Quickly checking the placement of the knives at her leg and under her sleeves, Belarus lifted her skirts and took the first step forwards. The steps groaned under her weight. She took another step... then another... further downwards and inwards, picking up pace until the manor was above her and she had touched down on hard stone floors.
It appeared to be some sort of basement. It was chill down here, the air heavy with the scent of earth and the musty smell of...
...books.
"Driver! Can't this thing go any faster? I'm in a bloody hurry!" England screeched, precariously teetering at the edge of his seat as the cab sped through the streets.
"Are you willing to pay my speeding ticket then? Are you?" the cabby snapped irritably back, put out by his pushy customer.
"If that's what it takes, yes! This is a matter of life and death!"
"Sit your arse back down you idiot, and shut up! I'm not going any faster, and you can deal with it or find another cab!"
Tight-lipped and grumbling, England did as he was told. Seconds later he was fidgeting, trading nervous glances with Flying Mint Bunny as the scenery blurred outside.
It was hard enough knowing Belarus was in his house, wreaking havoc. On the flip side, it was even more terrifying to know that an entire army of the fey was planning to bring matters into their own hands without so much as a say-so.
England knew the tricks of the fey. Whatever they had planned for Belarus... would not end well. He had to end it before anything happened... on the chance it was something he couldn't reverse.
An entire wall of books stretched before her. These were not like the books upstairs in his sitting room— these were old.
Because of that, Belarus did not instantly tear them down. Instead to walked forward into flickering candlelight, staring at them with slight wonder. She didn't think much as to why the secret basement was now awash with candlelight. All she could focus on was the faded, peeling letters, the yellowed parchment of the books.
Trailing a finger across a multitude of spines, Belarus felt the dryness under her fingertips. Many titles she couldn't read. The lettering was some old alphabet she couldn't read; some books had no titles at all.
These were the spell books she had been looking for. Where to even begin...?
The cabby almost kicked the strange man in his cab out, halfway to the destination, when the weirdo became so agitated he was practically in the front seat. England saw this view differently of course, and a shouting match started before the vehicle was moving again.
England wanted to pace. He'd suddenly felt a tingling in his bones, a vague discomfort that told him a series of wards had suddenly been broken. It terrified him; he began to pray that if the fairies should try anything at all, to go easy on a very non-magical Belarus.
Between the bookshelves was a desk. A large desk. She stumbled upon it while browsing, suddenly shying before the sheer enormous amount of all the ancient tomes. The desk didn't have so much books as it did papers, and with some confidence Belarus shuffled through the, impatiently pawing anything she didn't recognize aside.
Unheard snickers floated through the air.
Belarus paused. She'd uncovered a large, collective patch of scrolls, all sporting some variation of some sort of twisting pentagram. The newest of them all was not on a scroll at all, but regular paper, in fresh black ink only a few days old.
Was it a design of some sort? Or... perhaps a magic circle?
Belarus leaned forward, hair falling forward as she reached to touch the edge with light fingers.
England was out the door before the vehicle even stopped. He flung a fistful of bills without bothering to count at the startled cabby before hitting the ground with at a dead run, up the driveway and to the site of his shattered front door.
The moment her skin made contact, the pentagram exploded in a searing light. Belarus clamped an arm over her blinded eyes, staggering back with a shriek of anger. Flailing, her other arm swept across the desk, sending every stack of parchments and rolls of scrolls flying through the air. Yet, the pentagram did not. Instead, the paper begin to rise into the air, unnoticed and unheeded, as the image began to flake away from its place and crumble into sparks of blue flame.
Rubbing her watering eyes, Belarus threw caution the wind. Knives sprouted from her hand in a matter of seconds as she brandished them towards and invisible enemy.
"Who is this?" she bellowed, "What trick is this! England?"
Directly above her a cacophony of laughter came pouring from nothing, bouncing and echoing around the room. Belarus whirled this way and that, still trying to see exactly where this assault had come from.
Until the ground beneath her began to glow with an equally blinding light. Until she looked down, crouched in a fighting stance, to find the exact pentagram from the paper had materialized below her very feet.
"NOOOOOOOOO!"
All at once England came flying down the stairs. His hair was wild, his clothes rumpled, and his eyes wide in panic as he threw a hand forward, anything to reach the other. Belarus jerked around, her attention captured.
As her face twisted in a glare, her knives raising threateningly, the pentagram completed itself.
The room was enveloped with a bright white-and-blue light, under the sinister laughter of the fey. England skidded to a stop, throwing up his hands to shield himself and collapsing to his knees at the force of the activated spell.
"Belarus...!" He cried, only for his voice to fall unheard as the magic reached its height... then died.
The light faded away. With it went the laughter.
And Belarus was gone.
.
.
.
.
.
So Rome isn't here quite yet. But he should be in the next chapter, if you care to stick around... -nudge wink-
Thanks for reading.