Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Shingeki no Kyojin. I am merely a fan who appreciates the ingenious glory of Hetalia's masterful tomfoolery and Shingeki no Kyojin epicness.

Warning: Strong Language, Graphic Scenes, Gore and Violence

Chapter One Characters:

-England/ Arthur Kirkland

-America/ Alfred F. Jones

-France/ Francis Bonnefoy

Time Frame: During and after the retaking of Trost

~Prometheus~

Chapter I

"Flames Eternal"

He couldn't move and yet his body shook with the earth. The slow, steady footsteps grew ever closer and still he could not remove himself from their path. The moments leading up to the sun vanishing and the first touch of those fingers seemed eternal – nearly to the point he wished he could demand that time hurry up and get it over with. He knew what was going to happen, he didn't need a prophet's eyes to know what fate awaited him.

Still, even as those colossal hands took possession of him and lifted him away from ground he could not bring himself to look at the gateway to his oblivion, which he knew would be sickeningly smiling at him.

He locked his jaw against cowardice and pain, feeling his ragged breaths shudder against his teeth. With one arm gone and the other rendered useless, he had nothing left to fight with and made a vow that if he had to forfeit his life he would at least keep his dignity. He kept staring at the ground until he was forcibly turned around to face the monster.

He couldn't help it. No matter how hard he tried to avert his gaze, it was as though God had beckoned and tricked him into beholding the grotesque face of humanity's end. Staring back at him was a twisted doppelganger of joy, the ultimate mask of gluttony with an insatiable appetite for man's desperation. There was no soul in the eyes of this embodiment of avarice, only need... single-minded and cruel need. Those eyes stripped him of his name, his rank and everything that made him a sentient being. There was no consideration for his past or present, his lusterless twenty years of life on this planet or the countless people he'd tried and failed to save before this moment…

He was nothing before this deranged parody of mankind's future…it was the most horrible last sight he could think to witness.

There was nothing left of him but a shell when his executioner opened its mouth and swallowed him whole. He hit its tongue and felt the putrid slime of its saliva cover him, before slicken his way down its throat. He found his will to live then and a scream ripped its way out of him, forcing him to try and dig his heels in to resist one last time but failed. He was sucked down the burning walls of its esophagus that nearly crushed him in his decent into the acidic pool of the titan's stomach.

Darkness stole his sight and gave him no way to brace for impact. He fell head first beneath liquid hellfire and thrashed against the current and heavy debris around him. He broke the surface and gasped, hacking and nearly vomiting when the fumes of the vat around him invaded his lungs. He clawed about for something to hold onto and found only the disintegrating remains of his once fellow man. Comrades, friends, even family – he could have been in surrounded by his own men and not have known. In this terrible circle of hell there were no such things as identities, and once good people were now only buoys to stave off him being digested for just a little longer.

The moment he managed to force his only remaining arm to keep him barely above the surface, he stilled and stared wide-eyed into the darkness…

Why was he trying so hard to prolong this? Why was he dragging out his suffering before the inevitable; what hope remained inside of him that kept him trying to live?

Was it just out of habit? Was this his body going through the motions of what it had been doing for the past twenty years? Was there really…any will behind his actions?

What good was humanity's instinct to survive when the end result was always the same…

A swell of sorrow came and went, weakening his grasp on the body of another nameless face, and he felt himself slipping deeper into Acheron. He could hear and feel the acid burning away his clothes and skin; he could even smell himself joining the thick stench of burning flesh in this place. There was so much pain in this death, from the acid, his broken bones, and the exposed nerves and muscle from his missing arm…but at least…at least it was quiet.

No screams or people begging him to save them, and then cursing him in his sleep when he failed. There was comfort in there being no one left to impress or fight, there were no more expectations to meet…just that he allow the death that already claimed him to finish its work.

It would soon be done…he could feel that now. He closed his eyes and just let himself…go…

Until someone uprooted his reluctant peace and the very foundations of hell.

The world around him violently pitched and he was sent crashing into the side of his fleshy coffin. Acid crashed over him and pulled him under, the bodies of the dead slamming against him and nearly suffocating him beneath their weight. There was another shift and all at once he was airborne and deafened by the terrible death knell shrieking through the titan. He fell back into the pool and found himself fighting to shove bodies away and swim again.

He didn't question why anymore, just that he had to do it.

Without warning light exploded from above, as silver blades shred away at the meat of the titan. Arthur felt the current shift again towards the light and he was pulled along it before a hand reached out and snatched him from the flow. The scorching touch of someone living holding onto his acid bathed skin was agonizing, but the rush of fresh air flooding his lungs was undeniably welcome, as someone yanked him back to the world of the living.

He was gasping, shaking and unable to process the sights and sounds bombarding him. He was overwhelmed and felt faint. He couldn't support himself in anyway and relied on the strength of whoever had wretched him back from the dead.

"Arthur, Arthur!"

Arthur. He had a name again. Someone had given him back his name and he felt the last withered spark of humanity inside of him respond.

Arthur. There was weight to that name, significance…

He was still dying…but at least now he could die with a name.

"MEDIC!"

"You're record is very impressive…I think you'll do great things someday."

He remained stoic before replying at length; "I thank you for your confidence in me, sir."

The older man chuckled and leaned back against the desk behind him, crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side. "Tell me, corporal…why are you doing this?"

Arthur flicked his eyes over to the man in question, "Would you please be more specific, sir?"

"Why wear the wings? Why take up the swords and devote your life to the hunting and killing of gods?"

Arthur's brows furrowed and the first real spark of emotion lit his eyes, "They're not gods. I highly doubt anything remotely god-like exists in this world. All things live and die, the titans included. I only seek to ensure they die before harming the people of our cities."

The older man seemed intrigued by this answer and nodded, bringing one of his hands up to absently stroke the light beard on his chin. The blue-eyed aristocrat gave a hum then and smiled, "So you don't believe in gods…yet you believe in such a noble and selfless cause. If it is not religion that drives you to be so righteous then what is it?"

Arthur didn't like how interested this man, Francis Bonnefoy, was in him. The man hailed from a heavily French line in one of the Sina districts and was the head of the most illustrious weapons manufacturing corporation in Walls. Arthur was only here on orders that he represent his unit trying to be the first to test a new line of weapons the Bonnefoy Company planned to produce for the military. The hope was to get enough of these new weapons before the group took part in a mission outside the walls…and the deadline was fast approaching.

Arthur didn't see what his own beliefs had to do with his business here, but he couldn't afford to ruin his unit's chances of securing this deal.

"Theologically speaking, gods were said to be all powerful beings that controlled aspects of the world from realms above. Humans worshiped and feared them because having an image of something to bring reason to the world gave them comfort, then religious dogma gave societies rules to live by. The titans are none of these things and bring nothing but chaos," He finally replied and hoped that would be the end of it.

Bonnefoy seemed to consider this before asking, "But they, the titans, are indeed all powerful beings and yes, we worship them. Because we fear them so and give them such power to dictate our lives, such as living within the Walls, forsaking the outside world for protection, and making it the aspiration of our youth to waste their lives joining the military…does this not qualify them as gods?"

The young corporal had had enough and the anger rising in him began to show on his face. He was tense with restraint and only managed to reply through his teeth, "I did not come here to debate philosophy with you, Mr. Bonnefoy, I came here for weapons to kill titans. If you want to build false shrines to them and give them so much credit for shaping humanity then be my guest, but give the rest of us unenlightened mortals the means we need to wipe these bastards off the face of the Earth."

"Which brings me back to my original question you have so cleverly skirted around answering, Mr. Kirkland…" The older man seamlessly interjected, leaning forward now and staring intently at Arthur with enigmatic blue eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

Silence stretched between them for a long while, as Arthur did not know how to respond and Francis wasn't letting him go without doing so. Arthur had never felt comfortable in this man's presence and now had an added fear of vulnerability. His motivation was in question and so too, he suspected, was his commitment. Was this a test? What answer should he give that would have this man rule in his favor?

How he hated politicians. How much he hated playing puppet to social decorum and following scripts in a language he could scarcely understand. This man wanted to know why he wanted to kill titans and save humanity? He wanted to know why he wore the wings and took up the swords?

Arthur looked back at the Frenchman and gave a tight-lipped smile that only just reached his hate filled eyes. "I fight…because I don't trust anyone else to save me."

His mind felt heavy, but the rest of him was weightless and tired. He opened his eyes to the fading light of day casting shadows on the blades of the ceiling fan above him. He watched time pass on it like a sundial and counted each moment, as though it would make this reality true to him.

He was alive. He shouldn't be, but time wouldn't be moving forward if he were dead.

There was the sound of a chair scrapping across the floor next to him and he turned his eyes in its direction, as a tall blond haired man came into view.

"Arthur – corporal, hey, how do feel?" The young man quickly asked leaning over the bed and flickering his eyes between him and vital monitoring machines he could hear around him.

He knew this man; he was one of the new recruits his commander had placed him in charge of a few months ago. Arthur was a class ahead of them all and only in the position as their leader because the original ranking officer they'd been considering had been killed on a scouting mission. At first he had balked at the prospect of being in command and resisted, but his own superior had been adamant…even promising him an operation outside the Walls that he'd been wanting for a long time. He was still young and considered himself too inexperienced for leadership, but with a chance at leaving the Walls…he had taken the bait and the burden of so many lives on his shoulders.

So many more people he had failed.

This man, Alfred Jones, and his brother Matthew were two of the fresh academy graduates in his unit. Alfred, in particular, was a royal pain in the ass. He was energetic and outspoken, had issues with authority and held the boot camp record for the most disciplinary laps run in the history of the military. When he wasn't goofing around and being a constant distraction, he was tinkering away with babbles stolen from junk heaps and making impractical gadgets. He claimed he would someday be the greatest technological mind the military had ever seen, but what inventions of his didn't work ended up causing ridiculous and often expensive disasters.

He was strong, Arthur had to give him that. He was physically the toughest of his soldiers and in his levelheaded moments he could be a brilliant strategist. He cared about his comrades and was completely dedicated to the cause of saving humanity (almost to an irritating degree). He was often good for motivating others; even his brother, who had a mind unmatched and gift for being a medic, often performed greater feats in his company. But there was no ignoring Alfred Jones's shortcomings…

Though having saved his life wasn't one of them.

"It was you…who pulled me out, wasn't it?"

Alfred's face became beat red and he turned his head away to distractedly cough into his hand. Arthur watched as he swallowed hard before answering, "You…ah, you remember that, huh?"

"Not really…" He replied honestly. "There just isn't anyone else I know stupid enough to have done that."

Alfred hacked out a laugh and uneasily began rubbing the back of his neck, looking anywhere else but at his superior. "Oh well, you know me, I'm not one to shy away from getting down and dirty for a teammate – uh…so…" He quickly cut himself off and cleared his throat, appearing nervous and awkward again. "The ah…the unit is good, the majority of us. We lost a couple but not as many as most. The hole in the wall has been sealed and the rest of the titans in the city were wiped out. They're calling it a victory!"

Arthur felt his chest constrict at the mention of the status of his troops. They hadn't lost couple…he remembered watching more than just a couple being crushed underfoot or grabbed and eaten as he had been. He had even been trying pulling one from a titan's mouth when…his arm…

He slowly lifted his left hand from under the covers and hesitated before reaching over to his right shoulder. Alfred made a quick sound of protest but the corporal ignored him as his fingers grazed…something cold.

He turned his head and looked down at where his arm had once been and found a long limb of steel glaring back at him. The appendage was outstretched and resting upon a lowered bedside table supporting it and a number of wires running from various ports to machines around him. He couldn't take his eyes from the sight and a lump of icy revulsion began sinking inside of him.

"What….what is this?"

Everything was quiet and when Arthur managed to turn his gaze back to Alfred, he was met with an expression of sadness and self-consciousness. He dared to venture that this was the first time he'd ever seen such a look on the other's face and the thought raised even more apprehension within him.

"There was nothing left to reattach so the doctors only managed to cauterize the area," Alfred began, still looking grief-stricken and distressed. "The commanders came and were planning to discharge you from your commission. I know you don't really share personal stuff with us, me especially, but it was clear to see how much being in the military meant to you. I begged them for a chance to…to give you something close to the functionality you had and be able to prove it to them if they held off on the decision. They gave me a week and I only managed to finish and attach it this morning…I'm sorry that it's not your real arm but…I hope it helps."

Arthur couldn't seem to find his voice for a time or remember what kind of reaction would have been appropriate. He looked from Alfred to his body beneath the sheets, making sure to count that his two legs were still there, before looking over to the silver appendage that seemed to have grown out of his shoulder.

He felt the weight of its base keeping the arm attached but not the limb itself. It felt so foreign and invasive, like some kind of grotesque parasite that had burst forth from his body in his sleep. It was the same size and shape of a human arm, it even seemed to have all the right joints and bones structuring it…but there was no skin. Nothing was covering the inner-workings of the extremity or the translucent tubes with some blood colored fluid running through them. Was it really his blood or some kind of hydraulic fluid? Did this thing just hang from his shoulder in place of his lost arm…or could it really move? He didn't feel it as he would any other part of his body…he only felt icy and cold where it anchored onto his skin.

How could…this thing make him functional again? What was even the point when he hadn't been able to save anyone when he'd had his own two arms?

"Corporal, I'm sorry…"

He moved his hand to touch the arm again and this time held his palm against it, as though it were a test of endurance. "You built this?"

He heard Alfred shifting again beside him, but never took his eyes from the arm to see. "Yes. They had other prosthetics they could have used but none of them would give you the same level of functionality. I've…only built a few of these before and this one is based off of a design I haven't actually tested yet, but…in theory it should work just fine."

Arthur didn't feel any reassurance at that and looked down the length of the machine before pushing past his fear and asking, "Why can't I feel it?"

"It takes a little time to fully connect with your body. Mattie was able to convince the surgeons to preserve as many of your nerve endings as they could, and then he and I were with the doctors when helping to put on the anchoring plate," Alfred explained and sighed. "Again, I've never tested this model on anything before…I admit that I don't have all the answers but the last time we did this, Rufus was up and walking within a few days."

"...Rufus?"

"Uh…dog who lost his leg in a wood chipper accident."

This was also not the least bit reassuring to him either.

Arthur then turned his gaze towards Alfred when he rounded the bed and stopped next to the arm beside him. The young man looked desperate and pleaded more so with his eyes than anything else, "Give it a chance, Arthur. I promise I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think it would help you."

The corporal looked hard between his subordinate and cybernetic limb, falling into his thoughts for a time…then gave a tight-lipped sigh and closed his eyes. "Turn it on. I want to try it now."

He could feel Alfred's hesitation in the atmosphere and repeated his order more sternly, forcing the young man to hold his tongue for once and comply. Arthur only heard Alfred turning off the monitors and the hiss of decompression when the connections released. He heard Alfred step back and in a small voice tell him it was done…but Arthur still couldn't force himself to open his eyes.

He was too afraid of what wouldn't happen.

Taking deep breaths he tried to slow his heart rate and calm himself down. He was more than aware of his left arm and moved it to his side, gripping the sheets just to prove to himself he could. His right side…still remained a cold, dead thing to him but eventually began to warm.

His heart began to beat faster in spite of himself and all at once he felt light-headed and tired. He took harder breaths and forced himself to focus on moving his new right arm, even if it killed him (as it might as well if this didn't work). Still with his eyes closed, he repeated over and over again in his mind for the arm to move, even if it was just the fingers, but nothing was happening. He couldn't feel a damn thing and nearly choked out a cry.

He was straining, sweating and over exerting himself to get this damn thing to bend to his will and still he felt nothing!

Defeat crashed over him and with tears in his eyes he let out his final held breath with the sob he'd been trying to control. His whole body shook and he quickly covered his shameful face with his hand –

His eyes flew open and beheld the cold steel hand over him. His heart and lungs seized at the sight and without consciously feeling it the hand lifted and hovered over him, as if it knew he needed to inspect it to believe it was real. Though he was trembling the arm wasn't, it remained steady and flexing above him, proving it was strong when he couldn't be.

Alfred let out a breathless laugh beside him and he turned to find Alfred letting his tears flow without caring, and absolutely beaming at the sight.

"It works…It works, we really saved you," He choked out and suddenly his expression of happiness turned to one of pure unadulterated relief, as if a week's worth of fear had finally found its outlet in his tears. "Oh God, we did it. It really works…God!"

Arthur stared at Alfred as the man sunk to the floor with his head in his hands and cried. He'd never seen such a display from anyone…especially not Alfred, and he felt his own combination of relief and something akin to happiness come over him.

He looked back at the hand above him and watched as the fingered bent and flexed, finally becoming a fist and letting him see the synthetic blood flowing faster inside its alloy veins.

It worked. It was indeed working…and with this he could finish what he started and avenge those who had once believed in him. He could finally redeem himself and put an end to the nightmares once and for all.

To Be Continued...

Notes from the Author:

This was written in response to the challenge: make an APH/SnK story that works. I truly hope I have and hope you all have enjoyed this. :') I dedicate this to my lovely Pie, who has been watching this really awesome anime with me for our date nights over Livestream. My best to ya'll in the APH and SnK fandoms; YAY FOR CROSSOVERS!

(Depending upon reception and time, I may or may not continue on with this story. :') I honestly hadn't intended to make this a project until after seeing all the encouragement on Tumblr. Its still just a possibility for now, but I'll label this as a WIP just in case. ^^)

Sincerely,

General Kitty Girl/Kelbora