AN: Hello, everyone! I hope you're having an awesome day! I was going to update one of my other stories but then I dislocated my knee :P. Which sucks. But I have decided that even though I can't grab what I have from my computer, because I can't make it up and down the stairs, I can start this story. Red Angel is something that I have been thinking about for a while but I didn't want to start until I got further along with Out of Reach. But because I can't I decided to start my first AmericaXRussia fanfiction. I hope you all enjoy and have an awesome day!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Many years ago, existed an ancient kingdom. It was a Kingdom of color and of hope. Colors were worn to show someone who you were. The proudest color one could wear in the kingdom was red, the color of courage and pride. Red was worn by heroes and most of all it was worn by the leader of the Kingdom, The Angel. The Angel has ruled over the Kingdom for as long as the people could remember. The Kingdom was peaceful and beautiful. There was only one who held nothing but hatred for Kingdom and that was the King of the Hiems Kingdom. Hiems was covered in ice and was mostly a barren wasteland. The King of Hiems was jealous of the Angel's kingdom and wanted its power, so soon he declared war and attacked the Kingdom.

The Kingdom and Hiems fought for many years and soon the land was cover in blood from both sides. The body count grew higher and the King of Hiems knew that the Angel hated it. The Angel hated all the blood that was being spilt but also knew that the Kingdoms were evenly matched and the war will not end soon. One day the King of Hiems proposed a solution to the Angel. He told the Angel that if he fought in his arena for a hundred days and got out of there alive, he would surrender; if the Angel fell in the arena he would win the war. While the Angel was in the arena he promised that he would not attack his Kingdom. The Angel was suspicious of the King and didn't want to accept his proposal but his people begged him to because they didn't want the war to stretch out any longer. Hearing his people's pleas he caved in and accepted. The Angel fought in the arena for a hundred days. The King, however, did not keep his promise.

While the Angel was isolated in the arena the King attacked his Kingdom and slaughtered all of his people. Once the Angel fought for a hundred days the King told him what happened to his people. The Angel was outraged and when he tried to attack the King he was held down and his wings were torn from his back. From then onward the King forced the Angel to fight in the area and wear armor and robes; the same color that his people adored so much. Eventually they started calling him the Red Angel due to his red clothes and the red blood that would cover his blade. One day they say that the Angel just gave up. He couldn't take the fighting any longer and the loose of his people was hard on him. One day they went to wake him for a fight only to find that he had passed on to the afterlife.

Matthew whispered the story under his breath as he read the page from his book. He sat on his worn bed in their shack on the edge of the grand plain. Across the plain stood the cold mountains that showed where the boarder of the Hiems Kingdom was. The wind was a light breeze and it gently flowed through the window and into his worn home. "Hey, Matt," Alfred dragged himself into the room and fell onto his bed. It was late and the sun has already set. His brown ragged clothes, similar to Matthew's, were dirty from a day's work. "Still reading that book?"

"Yeah... did you get the supplies from town?" Matt asked.

"Yes, but I didn't grab some of the medical supplies we needed. The great Mr. Thompson says that he won't sell to nineteen year old trouble makers. Steal one loaf of bread and you're marked for life." Alfred said with a scowl. Alfred and Matt have been living alone for years and have been doing well. They hunt and grow crops and whatever they have leftover they trade for other things they need.

Matthew sighed. "He's always hated kids," He closed his book and laid down to get some sleep. "Maybe tomorrow we can have someone grab them for us."

"Alright, let's-." A scream shattered the silence. Matt and Alfred shot out of bed and looked towards each other.

"What was that?" Matthew asked. He shook slightly with fear.

"I-I don't know. Let me go check." Alfred slipped out of the bed and onto his feet. On his way out he grabbed his dagger for protection. He slowly opened the door and peaked out into the black night.

"Do you see anything?" Matthew whispered.

"No... Just wait here." Alfred slipped through the door and glanced around. With his dagger at the ready he quietly walked over to the trail that led into town. 'I think the scream came from this direction...' He scanned the dark trail and saw nothing.

He was just about to head back to the house when he heard the soft sound of footsteps. He looked back towards the trail and out of the darkness he saw a figure limping towards him. "Who-who's there," the figure groaned its head turned down towards the ground. "If-if you're a ghost I just want you to know that I'm not afraid of you! I have my dagger!" He put both hands on the hilt of his dagger and pointed it at the figure.

"H-h...Help." it moaned. The figure fell to the ground but kept on trying crawl its way forward.

Alfred cautiously moved closer to it. As he got closer he saw that it was a man. "Are... you okay?" he asked.

The man propped himself up on his elbow and looked up at Alfred. His face was covered in cuts and blood. "S-Slavers..." He coughed up a mouthful of blood and fell back to the ground, still. Alfred glanced back towards the trail and saw glimmers of orange light heading towards him. He took a couple steps back then broke out into a sprint as he headed back to his shack.

"MATT! MATT! WE NEED TO RUN!" He shouted.

Matthew stood in the door frame and looked at him with confusion and worry. "W-what's wrong?"

"Slavers." Alfred stated as he reached the door. Matthew immediately rushed back into the house and started shoving some belongings into a bag.

"W-What are slavers doing o-out here? They usually n-never cross the plains!" Matthew's eyes were widened with panic and fear.

Alfred patted Matt on the back as he moved past him. "Don't worry we will be fine. Are you ready?" Matt nodded and after picking up his book, they quickly headed out the door.

Sadly they were too late. "Hey! It looks like we got some nice merchandise over here!" called one of the slavers as they came into view.

"Shit!" curse Alfred he put his hand on Matthew's back and silently begging him to move faster. Matthew ran as fast as he could away from the crowd of slavers with Alfred following close behind him.

"Gottcha you brats!" Sneered one of the men. They grabbed Alfred and Matthew and threw them to the ground. Matthew whimpered as he hit the dirt. His book flew out of his hand and was stepped on by one of the slavers. Alfred kicked and got in as many punches in as he could.

"Hit me one more time and I'll-," His sentence was cut off by a fist to his face. He glared at Alfred. "Alright kid, you asked for it!" he growled. He punched Alfred as hard as he could in the face successfully knocking him out cold.

Voices slipped in and out of his mind. He barely registered being carried or his brother screaming. After a couple of hours he faded back into consciousness. The first thing that he saw was a cold cobblestone ground. Around him he could hear the whimpering of his cellmates. He slowly got up and looked around for his brother. "Mattie?" He called out. Alfred was locked up in a cell with five other people... five other slaves. Everyone wore the same thing, tattered tan clothes that were covered in dirt. They all looked weak from hunger and miserable.

"A-Alfred? Is that you?" Alfred turned and saw his brother peaking through the bars from the cell across the hallway.

"Mattie," Alfred hurried over to the bars. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" He asked in a panic.

"N-No, No... I just... are you okay?" He asked. Matthew looked worried as he inspected his brother.

"I'm fine," Alfred laughed slightly. "Just a bit sore."

The door at the end of the hall to Alfred's right creaked opened. Snow from the outside drifted through the door. As they cold air traveled through the room its occupants shivered and huddled closer together. "Their right in here. We have them separated depending on their personality and how fit they are. What are you looking for?" Five men made their way into the building. Two of them wore long brown leather coats and worn boots to match. The key's jingling at their hips indicated that they were the slavers. The other three wore fur coats and were better dressed than the slavers. Alfred glared at them as they passed.

"Lets start out with the castle. We lost some servants due to illness." The group stopped near Alfred's cell and started scanning the cells across the hall.

"Is there anything specific you are looking for?" One of the slaver's asked in a rough voice.

"They have to be fit enough to carry out house work. For the castle they also ask that the servants are decent looking in case they come across visitors."

"Kind of picky."

The man sighed. "Yes. It makes it hard to find servants for the castle," After scanning the slaves he pointed at a couple, who were then dragged from their cells. "Then... That girl in the corner... and him." he stated pointing at a cowering brunette and Matthew. The slaver opened the door for one of the customers. He forced his way into the cell and grabbed both of the slaves.

"No, Alfred!" Called Matthew as they dragged him and the girl outside to join the others.

"MATTIE!" Alfred grabbed the bars and watched as his brother was dragged outside.

The man then turned towards Alfred's cell. Now Alfred could see his face clearly. He had long brown hair and navy blue eyes that looked at him in pity. "Sorry, he'll be treated well I promise."

"Is there any thing else you need?" Asked the slaver.

The man sighed. "The Festival of Hiems is a month away and we need people to participate." The man spoke with regret in his voice.

The slaver nodded. "how many do you need?"

"Ten."

The slaver scanned the groups, pointing out and making comment's on specific slaves. "And this one," He pointed to Alfred. "Has an attitude. He punched me in the face when we caught him. It's been three days but it's still bruised pretty bad."

"Three days?" Alfred looked at him in surprise.

The man nodded. "Yup. I was afraid you wouldn't wake up. You're pretty good merchandise." he smirked at his comment while Alfred scowled.

The buyer stared at Alfred in deep thought. "We will take him as well." He finally stated.

"Well if you insist," The slaver unlocked the gate. "I really meant it when I said that he had an attitude." One of the men moved forward and grabbed Alfred by the arm. Alfred was dragged from his cell, kicking and screaming all the way to the door. As he was dragged through the door his eyes widened. They were in the mountains; in the Hiems Kingdom. He glanced around the village and saw that it was nothing but an isolated slaver's camp. Alfred then noticed three carriages, two of them where full of slaves. In one he saw his brother Matthew, who was being handed a blanked by the driver of the carriage. Each carriage had a driver and two guards that would make sure the slaves didn't run for it. Alfred didn't have enough time to look around any further. He was dragged over to a carriage and was thrown into the back with six other slaves. He was handed a blanket, told to wait, and was warned that if he ran for it he would get an arrow in his back. Glaring at the man he cursed under his breath and wrapped the blanket around him. He didn't have to wait long before three other slaves joined them in the carriage. Soon they were packed up and the carriages started moving deeper into the mountains and to the capital.

The capital was beautiful but it's beauty was masked by ice, snow, and a strange tension that hung in the air. As the were led through the city you could easily tell the difference between classes. Soon they were found themselves at the base of an impressive castle. The castle was the only building in the city, besides some of the houses the nobles own, that was made of white marble. It had beautiful architecture and looked like something out of a fairy tale. They came to a halt in a courtyard and the soldiers dismounted their horses. The slaves looked up at the castle in awe but Alfred just scowled at it. "Alright, you four, get out of the carriage and line up at the base of the stairs." Alfred looked over at the carriage that held his brother. They were being forced out of the carriage and being guided to the base of the stairs that led into the castle's entrance. The man that went to the slaver's camp and picked them out got out of his carriage and went over to stand by the group of four. Alfred was about to get off and try to sneak over to his brother when his carriage started moving again.

They moved through a different gate and they immediately found themselves on a long, straight, wide road that went straight to a building that was almost as tall as the castle. The Gothic architecture and the dark stone made it look both intimidating and beautiful. The slaves nervously looked up at it as they passed through it's gates. Something above the gate caught Alfred's eye. It was a statue of a man with wings, wearing robes and spearing a man who laid at his feet. The statue mad Alfred feel uncomfortable.

"Alright, everyone out," A soldier called out to the ten slaves and they made their way off the carriage and over to where the soldier was calling. "Follow me," he commanded. The soldier looked to be in his mid twenties and wore chain mail armor. He had white hair and red eyes. Without waiting for them to respond he turned and made his way over to a set of stairs. He came to a stop at the top of the stairs and turned to look at the group. "Unlike the other slaves you are not here to be servants," He opened the door revealing an arena. The group followed the soldier onto the field eyeing the empty stands. The floor of the arena was dirt hardened from being trampled and had several pillars standing around the edges of the arena. "You are here to be warriors. I will be honest with you. Most of you probably wont survive but those who do will be changed. Now line up. You are about to be presented to the crown prince!" he commanded. He turned to the gate at the other side of the arena. Several soldiers opened the door and poured out. The stood in two parallel lines and waited. The prince slowly made his way out on the field. The moment you lay eyes on him you immediately feel a shiver run down your spine. The prince had cold amethyst eyes and silvery hair. He wore a white and silver uniform. A pale scarf that looked out of place, was wrapped around his neck.

With an unnatural smile he approached the group. The soldier gave him a low bow. "Prince Ivan, These are the new combatants."

Ivan glanced at them. "Let's hope that they last longer than the last group. I would hate to start the festival with a few contestants short," He moved to stand next to the soldier and looked at the group of ten. "I'm sure you will all do fine as long as you do what your told and use your head," He spoke as he looked from slave to slave. Eventually his eyes fell on Alfred who stared back at him defiantly. "Welcome to the Arena."