Hearts
It was an unusual night. The air was crisper than usual. Granted, there was almost always a breeze passing over the Hearts Kingdom, but perhaps there was a cold front coming through from the south. It was no matter to Gilbert though, for the stars lit up the sky without a single cloud in sight. Gilbert enjoyed these nights; some of his best ideas sprouted from nights like these. He stared down at his feet, stumbling over the cobblestone path. They seemed to have led him to the gardens in his slightly drunken state.
The white-haired king had an appointment to attend to, or rather, he was attending—a late night meeting with his small council. And despite the numerous glasses of wine, Gilbert could not find the meeting the least bit entertaining. He found it best to excuse himself. As the King of Hearts he was allowed to do that after all.
"Deficits… shortages… lack of funds… yes yes, I get it," Gilbert muttered under his alcohol-plagued breath. Was it not the small council's job to figure all these things out…? And not to bother the King with it?
"But I could care less about all that," Gilbert mumbled, kicking some pebbles across the path, "I wanted to discuss a tournament, or perhaps a party in celebration of my fifth year in power in the Kingdom of Hearts, but they would hear none of that. Something about no budget. Since when was there no budget? There's always a budget for Gilbert the White!"
Gilbert sighed, glancing down at his rippling reflection in the basin of a fountain, a young man with striking features staring back at him. Gilbert was not called "Gilbert the White" for his innocence or purity or performance in combat or whatever other symbolic drabble one could come up with. He donned the name due to one of his most prominent physical features: his snow-white hair. But that was not the only unusual thing about his appearance. The King continued to look into his reflection, and a pair of red eyes shined back at him. His hair only further accented his rare eye color. It was his pair of eyes that caused his citizens to believe in him and his future; this pair of eyes matched the pure crimson of their Kingdom's colors. Gilbert imagined those ruby red banners flying throughout the streets in honor of a tournament or a party hosted by the King himself, the whole city doused in red and black.
It was no matter though. Even if he were to throw a party or a tournament, who would come anyways? The Spades and Clubs had now just entered their second year of their icy war; it was doubtful that they would drop their swords and shields to be on Gilbert's guest list. So that left the Diamonds, the Kingdom Gilbert felt the closest to. He had fond memories of King Francis and his Ace of Diamonds Antonio. But since he already visited them often, drinking and carrying on into wee hours of the morning, how would a party with just them in attendance be any different?
Despite his struggles with entertainment and funding, Gilbert did have one thing to look forward to. He continued his not-so-straight march down the cobblestone path, and for the first time that evening, a smile crept onto his face as he spotted several bushes of pink carnations, all finely trimmed. This was the collection that he had put in specifically for his beloved.
"Ah, Elizaveta, for the first time in my existence I am thankful you are not here. You would've dragged me back into that meeting. Or even worse, flipped me over your shoulder and plopped me back into my chair yourself."
His Princess was a beautiful one, and soon to be the reigning Queen of Hearts, ruling alongside of him. Their wedding would be in a few months time, three to be exact, although the white-haired King had a tendency to forget the date since it had been changed so often. He kept delaying the joyful occasion in hopes the Ice War will come to a close, wanting all of the Four Kingdoms to attend. But the Spades and Clubs' fighting waged on, and an armistice was unlikely to occur.
"A truce is not in King Ivan's vocabulary. He'll keep fighting until he gets what he wants. But the Spades put up a good fight, so that just might be forever."
Gilbert cannot keep putting the wedding off though, otherwise that will make him no better than his good friend, Francis, who has been engaged for well over three years now. The King of Diamonds will turn that young girl into an old maid no doubt.
The wine in his belly delayed his journey, but he finally arrived at one of his favorite spots in all of the castle grounds. Gilbert walked up the tiny, white steps of the gazebo, shuffling over to the other side. He leaned against the painted bannister, exhaling slowly as he looked down at his Kingdom below. The gazebo overlooked his entire capital. Several lights were still on, smoke bellowed out of several chimneys, and if one looked real close they could see—
Gilbert's gaze quickly adverted elsewhere as he heard a rustling from a nearby bush, the origin of which he could not locate.
"Hmm…must be a squirrel…" Gilbert muttered to himself, turning back to gaze out onto his Kingdom below. He was distracted once more, however, when he heard yet another bush rustle, only this time it was closer.
The King paused before taking a few steps towards the gazebo entrance, peering out into the dimly lit gardens ahead of him. His vision was fogged by the wine, but his voice rang clear.
"Who's there?"
Usually Gilbert found practical jokes funny, but there was no one within the castle walls who would dare even try to pull one on him. Both Francis and Antonio were miles away within the Diamonds Kingdom, and his brother, Ludwig, and Elizaveta were not the types to clown around.
Just then a small ding resonated off of the white wood of the gazebo, causing Gilbert to jump in his boots. He brought his rich, crimson cloak around him more, the cloak of the King fastened tightly to his shoulders. It was a pebble or a small rock surely.
"Alright, yes, very funny. You win. Can the mysterious jester reveal himself now?"
Gilbert walked down the steps of the gazebo, his leather boots once again stepping on the cobblestone path. He held his breath; it was dead silent. Something wasn't right. His hand, concealed under his crimson cloak, slowly traveled to the grip of his sword, his hand gently wrapping around it.
"As King I command you to reveal yourself this inst—"
A very loud snap of a branch muted the rest of his sentence, far too loud for a small animal to create. Gilbert's expression turned from amusement to annoyance as he turned on his heel, wanting to head back to his gazebo.
"I've just about had enough of your fun and ga— MMPHHH!"
As Gilbert turned to face the gazebo, his red eyes could not see it anymore. Instead they were cloaked by a black mass. By the time his alcohol-clouded head could process what was happening, it was too late. He felt the black bag tighten over his head, his hot breath bouncing back against him as his senses were taken away from him. Gilbert thrashed his limbs about as best he could, but a force prevented him from doing so. It had to be more than one man. Maybe two? Three? Four?
Gilbert continued to let muffled screams pour from his mouth, but they quickly died down as he felt something cool and metallic press against the flesh of his neck. This was not a joke anymore, and far from it. An unknown force pushed him along, his feet leading blindly as he was manhandled down a path he could not make out. Surely his guards would see his assailants, or perhaps a man of his small council. All would be well so long as Gilbert remained calm and collected.
They walked for what seemed like hours until Gilbert was shoved into what felt like a small room. He realized soon after that it was not a room, however, when it started to move. They were in a carriage. Gilbert cursed at himself inwardly; how foolish was he to drink himself silly! But how did they escape the castle unnoticed? Were there no guards at any of the gates?
The Heart King's anxiety grew with every creak and bump of the carriage, his heartbeat quickening with every second that went by. He strained his ears, trying his best to recognize his surroundings, or maybe even hear the voices of his abductors, but it was to no avail. Several minutes later, his body lurched forward as he heard and felt the carriage come to a stop, and a pair of unknown hands yanked him from out of the compartment. He tripped over his feet as he was led down a path. Gilbert's eyebrows furrowed, the path was not made of stone or dirt or gravel even. The steps of his feet echoed of the sound of wood, something that perplexed Gilbert all the more. Where was he? Finally, the black cloth was ripped from his head, his vision blurry as he strained his body to quickly sober up. As his ruby red eyes readjusted, his eyes widened in horror as the dim lamps above them silhouetted his assailants. They were wearing cloaks with his sigil—his own guards. His eyes flew from one point to another, realizing quickly they were at the port of his capital, along one of the very edges of a dock. A vast ship loomed behind him, which seemed to be his only route of escape.
"What….What is the meaning of this?! Do you know what punishment befalls onto you for laying a hand on your King?! Or did you perhaps grab the wrong man by mistake?! How foolish, I doubt no one could be mistaken for me. Now I demand to be taken back at once and I may just show you mercy."
Gilbert's attention was caught by the sound of footsteps coming down the dock, and as the tall, large figure came into view, a wave of relief coursed through his veins. He sighed greatly, "Oh, brother! How thankful I am to see you! These idiots grabbed me by mistake. Must've thought I was trespassing. Serves me right for removing my crown after dinner," Gilbert chuckled, trying to rid himself of the anxiety.
Prince Ludwig looked down at his elder brother with little expression, something that was common for the younger sibling. The blond pursed his lips, his voice low and domineering, "There was no mistake, my brother."
"What do you mean there was no mistake? Ludwig, I hardly find this funny!" Gilbert's eyebrows furrowed, his voice growing louder in his search for understanding. Ludwig averted his eyes, and at a quick tilt of his head, the guards around him grabbed Gilbert once more.
"Hey! Unhand me this instant! Ludwig! Tell them to let their King go!"
The very edges of the blond Prince's mouth curled up into a smile, a rare and rather eerie sight to see upon the younger brother's face, "What King? I see no crown."
Gilbert stopped his thrashing as the true meaning of his brother's words slowly started to sink in. Never would he have thought this would happen—a coupe d'état—and from his own brother at that. A man whom he thought he could trust with his life, a man who had the same blood running through his veins.
Gilbert spoke quietly yet his voice showed no fear, his pride overtaking him, "If you mean to kill me I will let you know that I will not go down without a fight."
Ludwig chuckled darkly, "No, dear brother. There will be no fight." He took a few steps closer toward the silver-haired man. The Prince peered down at him; his blue eyes icy and cold, "I want you to get on a ship. I want you to get on a ship and sail to the farthest continent away from our own. I want you to get on a ship and never set foot in this Kingdom that you let crumble to pieces again. Is that understood?"
Gilbert tried to stifle his laugh, yet the all-too-recognizable guffaw echoed off the docks, but was quickly muted by the crashing waves, "And you think that will get rid of me? I have supporters in my land! The small council even! No one will fall for my disappearance, and especially not Elizaveta."
"Hmm, yes, I thought of that, which is why if you so take even another step on this land, or any of the Four Kingdoms, your precious Elizaveta will have a much worse fate than you, my brother."
Gilbert felt a fire kindle within his stomach, and the wine was not the cause of it. He had no time to think. The choice in the moment was clear, and it was a choice more cruel than death.
"You will regret this one day, brother. I swear upon the Four Kingdoms, this will not be the last you ever see of me."
Ludwig motioned for the guards to let Gilbert go. He took a step closer to him, causing Gilbert to move backwards. His intimidating figure loomed over Gilbert, stumbling up the ramp to a vast ship, its destination unknown.
"I'm sure, Gilbert. Just like all of the other empty promises you have made for this Kingdom time and time again. And how dishonorable of you to just up and leave your crown. It'll wound everyone's hearts, I am sure."
The eldest brother gritted his teeth. He would much rather be murdered than be labeled as a deserter. Gilbert's red eyes locked onto Ludwig's as he felt his brother's hands grab a hold of the front of his clothing. He heard a tiny 'click,' and the ruby encrusted, heart-shaped clasp of his cloak was unfastened. Ludwig ripped it from his shoulders, holding it up in front of his brother for him to see. That cool, frigid breeze that haunted Gilbert in the palace gardens ripped through the air once more, aiding Ludwig with one final shove on his brother's chest, pushing him down onto his back and into the ship.
"Such a shame. You always looked so good in red ."
A/N: Greetings everyone! We hope you enjoyed Chapter 1! We could not fit all of the ships in the summary, but this story will have elements of USUK, FrUk, RusAme, GerIta, PruHun, and AuHun. So a little something for every Hetalia fan out there. ;) Stay tuned for Chapter 2; We hope to publish it very soon!