Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia in any way, shape or form. If I did, then I'd give Canada more screentime.
Warning: May contain strong language, graphic scenes, teenage antics, etc.
Pairing: I'm going to be horrible and leave the pairings out for now. If this story picks up, which I hope it will, then I'll start thinking of adding in a bit of romance.
.:. Prologue .:.
Things aren't always as they seem
To the untrained eye, it would seem as if there was no end in sight. It was just a hollow, chilling darkness. But he knew better than that. There was an end in sight, it was just the matter of fact that he couldn't move towards it. Whenever he tried to move, he could feel his gut sink lower and lower whenever he realized his chances of escaping the darkness were slim to none.
With every step he took, he could see it - no, feel it - slowly move away from him, as if it was being repelled by him. All he wanted was to find his way out of this unfamiliar place. He wasn't frightened of the dark, if anything it helped him sort out his thoughts, but there was always that nagging at the back of his mind that he shouldn't stay here.
He had been here many times before, he knew he had, but he had no recollection of the sort. He felt unfamiliar with his surroundings, but he knew he had been here many times before. He knew he was dreaming, he had to be. His movements were sluggish, and his thoughts were all fuzzed up.
Suddenly, he felt himself being pushed forward. He could feel the pressure being placed on his shoulder blades, pushing as though directing him toward his prime destination. The light. It was quickly becoming brighter and brighter, or was it just getting closer...?
He didn't try to fight with the force pushing him forward, he just let the force guide him to where it wanted to go. With each step, he could begin to make out a shadowed objects that lay on the ground. They were quite common things, really; he could clearly make out the outline of a fairly small sized teacup, placed perfectly still upon it's saucer, whilst a few meters away from that he could see what looked to be a bat. A few feet away from that stood an empty box, something rather small protruding from the small gap at the top.
He got the distinct feeling that they should mean something to him, but he couldn't recall why. He knew he saw things like that on a regular basis, but since he was dreaming, shouldn't that symbolize something? He continued trying to get to grips with what they could mean, barely even noticing when his surroundings began to whirl and distort, almost to the point where it looked like static.
Then, it all came crashing down on him.
The force on his shoulders left him, and his thoughts were suddenly all the more clearer. A small, almost unnoticeable sensation in his head managed to distract him from the overwhelming nausea that suddenly overcame him. It was as though someone was messing with his insides, merely playing with them.
With what he figured to be his arms, he gently curled them around his stomach in a protective manner and released his breath. When had he been holding it in the first place? The nausea was finally starting to leave after a few moments of him standing still, his eyes closed and facing his feet. His mind was reeling, and he felt slightly unsteady, but was successfully managing to stay upright against his better judgement.
"Maybe I should sit down..." That was what he was meant to say. However, when no sound managed to leave him, he began to get flustered. His throat had constricted against his will; whilst he could clearly breathe, he was having trouble with allowing words to come out. He tried to say something, anything, but he could hear nothing. He knew his vocal cords were still working due to how he could feel the own vibrations in his throat and chest, and that left him bewildered.
Had he gone deaf? That seemed like the only plausible option, no matter how he regarded it. He couldn't hear a thing, not even his own breathing. That was when he began to feel something other than confusion; fear. Although he knew subconsciously that this wasn't real, that it was all a dream, he couldn't fight the emotion that was suddenly spreading inside of him.
It had been a while since he had felt himself so scared to such a degree.
It's alright, he thought to himself, this isn't real. And it wasn't. He was purely dreaming and everything that happened here wouldn't affect him in the real world. At least, that's what he had initially thought.
Eventually, he scoffed to himself. He shouldn't be acting like this. He knew he was being silly by panicking over something that he knew wouldn't really affect him. Eventually, his fear dissolved into irritation toward himself and he immediately disregarded his prior thoughts away. He was just being silly.
He still couldn't hide the slight tremble in his hand when he moved it up to rub his eyes.
The queasy feeling in his stomach managed to worm it's way back, much to his displeasure. With what he thought to be a small sigh, he begrudgingly opened his eyes to assess where he was. The slight spinning of black and white he had seen before he closed his eyes was gone, and all that was left in place was a white emptiness.
As he silently regarded his change of surroundings, he could see the very few splodges of colour a few meters away. Not just black and white, but he could clearly make out that the object - or objects - had a much more brighter look to it. He almost contemplate walking away from it, knowing that it was probably nothing to be too excited about, but eventually found himself walking in that direction.
Now only a few steps away from it, he now had a much clearer view of what the objects were. It was a strange array of objects, most of which he dismissed as having no meaning whatsoever, but he found he couldn't shift his eyes away.
Standing only a few steps ahead of him were two silver swords, their blades halfway dug into what he could only guess as the floor. They looked like ordinary, finely crafted swords, however it was clear to the man that they had a few subtle differences.
One of them had a fine leather covering the handle, making the grip all the more easier to the bearer, whilst the other had no grip whatsoever. The one on the left, the one with no grip, looked much more worn out compared to the other. It looked much older and worn out, and from what he could see the blade was very blunt. A few scratches were visible, even from where he was, and as he let his eyes trail back towards the base, he could make out the small engraving of a name.
The one on the right looked much more taken care of. Even in a place as dull as this, he could clearly see that it was definitely well polished. There were no scratches, and he didn't need to touch the edges to know that it would more than likely be much sharper than the other. As he let his eyes drift towards the base, he confirmed that there also happened to be an engraving there.
Taking a few more steps closer, he was almost an arm's length apart, he knelt down onto one knee and leaned forwards slightly. His eyes narrowed as he read off 'Pride' from the much older looking sword on the left, then moved onto reading 'Fortune' from the one on the right. As he mentally mulled over the words in his head, he moved even closer to the blades and placed both hands onto the handles, almost as though he was getting ready to pull them out.
There were no cracks in the ground to show that the swords had been forcefully pushed into it, but as soon as he started pulling on them, he distinctly heard a slight snapping. He was caught off-guard for a few moments, momentarily letting go of the swords, a confused expression taking over his features. He thought he had gone deaf.
Suddenly more concerned over what had made the noise, he turned around with his back to the swords and shifted his eyes throughout the blankness he called his dream. He could see nothing, until he looked down towards his feet.
The stems of roses had managed to somehow tie his feet to the ground, thorns and all. He couldn't feel it, but he could clearly see the way the thorns would gnash deeper into his feet when he tried to move. When he tried to look for where they had come from, he heard the snapping again. Slightly worried over whether he was imagining things or if it was his own bones snapping, he inspected himself once more, only to see that the rose stems had gradually managed to wrap around his legs up to his thighs, keeping him firmly in place.
This was indeed a strange dream for him to be having. He wasn't frightened, but neither was he not bothered by it. It was almost as though every time he let his thoughts wander from the stems tying him they would get higher and higher. Another snapping, and he wasn't surprised to see the thorns digging into his chest and stomach.
Suddenly the queasy feel was back, and he felt as though he needed to move now more than ever. He kept his gaze trapped on the thorns that were around him, ignoring the slight tearing of his pyjamas as he tried to squirm his way out of them. He still had his arms free, but for how long, he did not know.
He used his hands to try and pry off the stems, but could only watch in mild shock as the thorns dug into his fingers, thus making the action unmanageable. He could see the tissue of his hands being torn every time he tried to rip the stems off, but soon found it to be for nothing. He let his hands fall back down to his sides, a small frown gracing his face.
With a small sigh he lifted his head up, and the first things he saw were the two swords, which he mentally broke down at. Weren't they just behind him? After blinking a few times, he confirmed that they were indeed the two swords he had seen a few seconds prior, but two tiny differences caught him off-guard.
The much older looking sword, which he had remembered being named 'Pride', had swapped sides with the other, 'Fortune'. But that wasn't the thing that shook him the most. From where 'Fortune's blade was placed in the ground, he saw that there were a few more stems protruding from the small indent in the ground, leading towards where the man was tied up.
The queasy feeling got much more prominent and he felt as though he would be sick any given moment, but as soon as he heard another snapping he found it rather difficult to think clearly anymore. He couldn't move his arms nor his neck, and he came to the decision that the stems had moved further up his body again. It wasn't a nice feeling. He knew he was powerless and there was nothing he could do about it. He detested himself for letting things become so bad so quickly.
He heard another snap, and before he knew it, he was back in the slightly familiar darkness he had grown accustomed to.
A/N: Hey guys! lame beginning, I know, but I wanted to get something out of the way first; this dream is going to mean something in later chapters. If my way of describing things are a bit confusing or if it doesn't make any sense, please don't hesitate to tell me. I'm looking for critical feedback here, folks. This is going to be the first long-term story I've ever put out on the internet, so I'm hoping it will be at least slight pleasing. =w=
Does anybody catch the double meaning of the dream? Feel free to give your suggestions, but I won't be telling you if you're right or not. More funny for me that way. :D
Again, I'm not too sure on how people will react to this, but I will tell you things are going to pick up after a while, but then again, this is just the prologue, so of course there wasn't going to be anything special. That's for the next chapter. C8
If you've ever watched the move 'The Eye', then I'm sure you're going to be relating to this story as it continues. I watched it for the first time a few days ago on Netflix, and I loved it, even if it was difficult to grasp at first. No, it will not be entirely based on that movie, but I will be taking a few ideas from it to make this worthwhile.
See you in the first chapter! x3x