Quel's Notes: Hello, everyone. Well, here is my first installment of A Fall from Grace, whose title is still actually up in the air. It's definitely not as long as I wanted it to be, but I suppose it is fine for now. Also, if you're trying to figure out what the heck some of the words in italics mean, check the bottom of the chapter. I'm blending in the languages of the countries. I thought it would be fun. Well, I hope you enjoy! Leave any suggestions for me, please! I would love all the help I can get. Merci, mes amis!
Warnings: Mild violence. Okay, hardly any violence. But it'll be coming soon!
Disclaimer: Hetalia: Axis Powers and all of its characters do not belong to me. But if they did, many of the characters would receive big, big, big hugs. Also, I do not dislike Russia. He's actually one of my favorites! He just makes for a really good villain.
Doors creaked open. Light raced to get through it, trying to make it far into the room before the doors would stifle it. The walls were lined with guards, adorned in gold and reds, austere and cruel. The dimly lit room echoed the sounds of the newcomers off the walls, elaborating the struggle that had entered the grand hall.
A man was shoved down the hall, pushed by his captors toward the front of the room. Looming far in the distance, seated comfortably in a chair embellished so that it was almost a throne, was a large figure, amused by the scene playing out before him. His legs were crossed, one over the other. He was flanked on his left by three young men who looked pitifully uncomfortable next to the man. On his right was a lithe man, looking at the same scene with feigned indifference.
The man retaliated against his holders, only to be crudely thrown to the ground before a small set of stairs, leading up the Russian in his lavish chair. Russia stood, a heinous grin twitching his lips upward. America refused to look up at the demon.
"Amerika," Ivan said to the man lying on the ground below. Upon his speaking, the smallest of the three on Ivan's left, little Latvia, flinched. Ivan's smile only curled more vilely.
America was in a tattered uniform, damaged from his last battle with the Russian front. He was exhausted, barely having enough energy to defy Russia. Russia, on the other hand, seemed well rested with an endless amount of strength. Although he was dressed in a high-ranked military uniform, it was obvious that the man had spent little of his time in the midst of battle, unlike his opponent.
"Amerika, my friend, why do you not look at me? Are we not friends? Come now, do not be spiteful."
But Alfred did not raise his head. He merely pushed himself off the ground, now resting on hands and knees. When Ivan was not acknowledged, he gave a slight flick of his head to one of the guards. The guard shot his arm forward at Alfred, grabbing a bundle of hair and pulling up. America stifled a gasp, but shock was splayed in his eyes. Russia's eyes glittered, bemused.
"Now that I have your attention, Amerika," he said, beginning a slow descent on the stairs, "maybe you will listen to me, da?" America tried to jerk away his head, but the guard only held tighter on his hair. "We've had fun playing our game, da? But it seems as though our game has come to an end. You see, moĭ drug, your comrades have all surrendered. Why not take chase? It shall serve you well in the long run, da?" He was just standing in front of Alfred now, bending down slightly and smiling playfully. America's lip curled up in a snarl and he spat at the lowered Russia, defiance burning in his eyes. Ivan's look of amusement faded as he wiped his face with a handkerchief pulled from his chest pocket. He knew that such a reaction was dissent.
"If that is your choice, moĭ drug, then so be it. It is too bad, though. To have you as an ally would prove fruitful for both of us. A sad loss, not having you, but we will find a way to go on without you." But Russia was only feigning disappointment. He had known from the beginning, since he had decided to play his 'little game,' that America would never comply to being allies based on Russia's terms.
America only scoffed. The guard tugged at his hair, but America did not stop. "Like hell I'd ever join the Reds, Russia. I'm the hero, remember? I'll defeat you, even if it costs me my life."
Russia's interest spiked at that. "That can be arranged," he stated coolly. "And it would be fun if your friends watched too, nyet?" On cue, guards that had been lining the walls of the hall stepped forward into the dim light, and revealed their captives. England, France, Canada, and others were bound and gagged so that they would not have been able to warn America of their presence. Now, the gags were removed. Upon their appearance, America tried to break free from his holders once more, worried more so for his friends than his own safety. He was shoved down once again, flat against the floor. "Always a hero," Russia said curtly.
He had grown tired of his toy. "This is your last chance, Amerika," he suggested, "pledge yourself under me and I will spare your life. If not, then you will die here. Either way, Amerika, it is checkmate." He didn't even attempt to hide his boredom, having turned away from the man below him and instead looking up at the quivering Baltic nations standing beside his perch. China, on the other side, had a look of disgust on his face.
"Why make him grovel, Èluósī? He has already denied you. Why spare him another chance? The great Měiguó will not suddenly turn into a whimpering dog. It is time that he finished off, once and for all." China's gaze connected with America's for a single instant; America's were full of spite, China's held contempt.
"Ah, you spoil the fun, Kitaĭ," Russia stated, his eyes flickering to his ally. "But I suppose you are right. Amerika offers me little pleasure in our games now." Russia looked over his shoulder at the helpless man, then to his comrades, who looked on in horrified and abhorred.
Russia walked up the steps and sat back on his lounge, turning to face the man who he would be sentencing to death.
"Damn it, Russia! This isn't a game. There are lives at stake here, do you understand? People are dying!" America yelled up at him. Anger flared in his eyes at the monster sitting before him, acting as if he were a god.
"Wah, what a scary face," Russia teased, amused by America's fiery outburst.
"Shut up, damn it," America replied angrily.
"How unkind, Amerika. But you're so predictable. It is no wonder I have grown tired of you, da?" Russia smiled—a cruel, hellish smile. He nodded his head to the other guard who had been holding down America. Obliging, the guard removed his saber from its sheath and held it over Alfred's back.
As he raised his arm up, cries rang through the hall. "America!" "America!"
And the sword came down.
Translations/Pronunciations
Amerika-Russian for America
da-Russian for Yes
moĭ drug-Russian for My Friend, muy droog
nyet-Russian for No
Èluósī-Chinese for Russia
Měiguó-Chinese for America
Kitaĭ-Russian for China
Sneak Peek: Can America get away from Russia's mighty grasp? Can he save his friends from imminent doom? And who are the mysterious people who help America? Find out, next!