Hello and welcome to another endeavor of mine!

Vampire-Au: Supernatural, Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Yaoi (mentions of). For now that's it, it may have: Relationships such as yaoi and hetero, Gore, when they come up I'll probably say.

Summary: Alfred is a vampire with the appearance of a teen. A certain day he posts "if you ever get a chance to chose between being a vampire and die. Die. It's for the best" and attracts the attention of a hunter named Arthur. He inherited his Sire's problems, as the hunters now come after him, what will he do?

Warnings (for now): Language, Blood, OOC (probably), My own concept of what a vampire is, Emojis inside internet texts. It can have: Google translated words (such as in Russian and German), Death, Health situations, Mentions of sexy times. I'll probably remember to put warnings when this kind of thing comes.

Notes: My writing style may be kind of strange but it's the way I found to get it a little less messy. I use - and " for talking and thoughts, respectively. Italics most of times means an internet text/ blog post. English is not my main language and even though I reread it around 4 times, there can (and probably will) have some mistakes. About the rating: I always worry if I can traumatize someone with gore, blood and alike, so as always, just to be safe (seeing also as the language is not polite too) I've put it under M.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and its characters, this story was purely made for fun.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Fated meetings

Chapter 1 – The 1st entry

December 15, 2015.

Hello folks! I suppose everyone's getting ready for Christmas and has no spare time to read my text block, but I need to get this out of my chest. I always tell you guys about me and sometimes I receive nice comments and other times people call me crazy shit. Well, what can I do, a hero must always tell the truth and I really am a vampire! ù.u

I wasn't always like this and to this day I remember my sweet childhood memories… Maybe it was them that made me hold on even in the darkest times. The memories of better times when I didn't need to hide to live, when I could be carefree… and I was free of this constant hunger… How come I've let myself become like this? That is exactly what I'm going to talk about today.

For starters, if you ever get a chance to chose between being a vampire and die, die. Simply die. It's for the best, I tell you. Even if you had a fling with the guy/girl, even if they say you can become as awesome as them, even if they guarantee you that you'll have the power to protect your home and family: believe me, nothing will matter once you're doomed. And once you're doomed, your only choice is to go on, to live this miserable life the best you can. Death is an uncertain darkness and you no longer know if your soul would be forgiven. Try as you must, your sins will follow you, you'll always be walking on eggs. But I'll talk about this latter, for now know this:

The world is not made only by light, nor darkness alone, it's made by their harmony. The brighter the light, more intense it's shadows. If one is to survive in this world, better know this by heart…

… no matter how bright the light my seem, it conceal great dark. It's even better to understand that it's easier to find the darkness inside people than their light. So don't be deceived.

Yes, it's confusing but I know this is true because I had this first hand experience. I was a fool, my guts knew something was off but I was a hero (still am!) and so I HAD to do what I could.

…

I joined the revolutionary war. What could be more heroic than a young adult (because, yep, a nineteen is totally an adult, not a teen!) fighting alongside his kinsman?

Nothing seemed more important than it at the time and I gave it my all, even after our training hour was over, even after battle. It was arduous, but the first time I saw blood in the battlefield, losing my friends to death, was enough to push me more and more.

One night, it was a cool May evening, 1778 if I recall it right, we had just finished some exercises and I was excited about the prospect of winning our freedom and kept pushing myself.

- Still training? Shouldn't you be eating, boy?

I heard the guy say. He had this almighty posture and a mockery smirk played on his face. I had to be grateful for some Prussian guy helping us, it was making miracles happen. Though it didn't mean had to like them all, right?

Damn wrong, I like to be friendly and I got along well with them (sometimes it seems that I like people better than they like me). Maybe that was why I didn't see anything wrong with this one guy complexion: he was pale, an albino, but even so seemed unnaturally pale. His red eyes shone with something that I didn't know back in the time, but looked like jewels. His silvery hair was softer than any woman I had touched.

Don't get me wrong, I was a nice religious boy and didn't believe in sleeping with someone before marriage, but it didn't mean I couldn't touch them a little, right? Okay, I know it seems impure but how can I be a hero if I don't make a beautiful girl blush touching her hair? No, I didn't think that the guy was a beautiful girl, he was handsome yes, but touching his hair was an accident involving a river bath and I prefer to not recall it. Don't get impure thoughts, it was just a joke that my friends made on me.

So, as I was saying, there was this guy that helped sometimes. I didn't really know how he helped as he was seen basically only at night, but everyone knew he had some kind of high rank. No one talked about that, thinking that it must have been some sort of Prussian training. Whatever anyone thought about that wasn't said, they were helping us and it was turning good, so no complains were made.

Most of times he was carefree but he would become serious too and we would get the last light rays of the sun, at sunset, to discuss some training matters and other strategies. I always thought that afterward he just went inside to drink his ass out of alcohol to be dead drunk, lucky bastard (not that I'd complain, we were fighting for freedom, it was a worth cause). He did explain why this unusual act was "normal" using the excuse that "an albino can't get much sun", so he would stay inside and sleep all day (or so we thought).

Don't get me wrong, the guy was a monster soldier: too strong to be real and a great strategist. I know it because after being made fun of the river incident, I didn't have much of a choice but to challenge him. Don't need to say that my ass wiped the floor and that was how we kind of became good friends. I was a, as he liked to say, "farmer boy" and he was a soldier. I had too much to learn about the war front, guns, first aid and he was the guy that kind of took me under his wing. I wonder if he thought of me as a pupil, but I think it's because he had this younger brother that died and I kind of reminded him of it.

- Yeah, someone has to be up to challenge when the English come, right?

I said, not really up for jokes. It didn't faze him at all, so we kept talking.

- Kesesese, I see you are as enthusiastic as ever.

- Am not. This is a serious fight for our freedom, our motherland and our people. What would I tell my kinsman if I didn't give my all and we lost?

- It wouldn't be awesome. Not that you could be as awesome as I am, but you can try to. Kesesese.

I rolled my eyes.

- Oh, please, fuck off, I need to be prepared. Some of us have to actually fight this battle.

He "caressed" my hair. Messed up would be more appropriate.

- You know where to find me boy if you need anything. I like you, just ask and I'll help you to become strong.

I took his hand off my dirty hair.

- First of all stop treating me like a kid, I'm a man. Second, sometimes I wonder if you only do this to amuse yourself over me. I aim to be a hero, not your laughingstock.

He did it again, this time stronger, taking me off balance and making my hair into a mouse nest.

- Kesesese, sure you are boy, come talk with me about being a man after you lose your virginity.

How could he say that? I know I blushed like a maiden.

- That's none of your business!

He just laughed harder and left. Damn friendly Prussian albino.

Somehow after drinking whatever he went to the wood to get, he decided that I needed teaching. He tossed me a bayonet and we had a small training section. It was most about avoidance, I didn't like it but he said it was important. When he got bored he left (as always).

That night I didn't know, but our training would prove valuable sooner than expected.

-x-x-x-

There was the sound of bayonets clashing, guns firing and the smell of blood and gunpowder. When my senses came back, I was eating moss on the ground, my leg injured from a bullet and my nose broken. Fuck, how did I broke my nose? Anyway, the English were getting the upper hand, we were fucked. We had been ambushed, our mission had been to collect supply for the troops. We were a small group of five, no one would mind five farmers walking around the streets of the city, right?

Right?

Damn wrong, they found out who we were and tried to follow us to our camp. We noticed them and went another way so they wouldn't find it. When they realized that, their friends ambushed us and fired the hell out of their guns into the five of us.

I knew that it was past seven as I tried to locate myself because the sun was nowhere to be seen. After they shot the hell out of us they left, sure that we were all dead or dying which wasn't untrue. I was the luckiest one but with so much blood of my friends on me I looked pretty much dead from afar. See, it's not heroic to say it but damn, it hurt like hell. I couldn't walk right, had to drag myself around and confirm that yes, everyone – expect me, were dead.

They were my friends, two of them weren't even in our militia, they were helping us to get around the town. We were getting food, but as we looked like American farmers and a lot of people fighting were farmers they decided to just shot us down.

I didn't know what I would tell to their families, but I had to say something. I knew that I also had to warn the camp about it. No one was safe while the English were here. I dragged myself further and further until I collapsed exhausted.

I woke up feeling cold. The sun wasn't there yet, so maybe midnight? I don't know, I looked down – thanks moonlight – and my leg looked like crap. Have you ever seen your leg and thought "damn it, I'll have to cut it off"? I guarantee it's not nice. Yes, it hurt like a bitch and I had only a handkerchief and my shirt to improvise a curative. I won't get into details, but I got the bullet out (hurt-like-hell) and closed it as good as I could.

Praying to hold on I got up, not on the first try, but I got up and walked. Slowly walking (dragging) forward. My head and body hurt, my eyes couldn't see because it was getting darker and everything seemed to spin, it was worse by each second passed.

I was dying and I knew it. It seemed like I've lost more blood than given credit for, maybe it wasn't only the bullet injury that I had. Even so, a hero would fight to the bitter end and that was what I've done.

Forward and again until I lost balance and hit something hard. The funny thing was, it didn't seem like the earth, it was hard and soft at the same time, smelled nice and wasn't warm, but also not cold, I'm not sure, but I think it was my dying mind playing some tricks. I'll also never know, for the next moment I blacked out.

When I woke up everything was dark. How come I wasn't dead I didn't know, but I felt feverish and so I didn't know if everything was really dark or if I wasn't able to open my eyes. I tried to weakly move but felt kind of anesthetized, my mind was so delirious that I wasn't sure what was up and what was down.

It took me a while to try to move again, this time my mind was a little more awake and urged my body to move… I barely moved my hands and touched something solid at my side – both sides. A thought crossed my mind...

"It's okay, you've been through a lot and your mind is playing games…."

Again I tried, this time touched something solid above me.

"...It can't be true..."

And again I tried but no matter where I touched it was the same, as if I was surrounded by walls.

"No… you must be kidding me…."

At this point I was yelling, hitting as much as I could for help, which wasn't much in my weakened state. It felt like I was trapped inside a box.

"I'm inside a box… as… no… don't tell me….."

I hit harder and harder, with all the strength that I could summon. The thought of being inside a coffin making miracles to my strength. My mind could be subdued by the fever but was sobering enough and screamed with me to get the fucking out of there.

"I was buried alive!"

I could smell blood, it was probably from my wound as I could feel pain. My breathing was fast and it hurt my lungs as much as my strong heartbeat hurt my thorax. The fever's pain was nothing to me now that my life was at stake.

"Oh God, I can't breath!"

- HELP! Please, somebody! I'm not dead! Please! Help!

I whined and screamed and sobbed and yelled… It wasn't as loud as some say I usually speak but I did all I could as I felt like I was really dying. My friends, if you grown up with stories of people being buried alive you know that when the coffin was taken out, there were marks of nails on it. Guess what? I think I lost 4 nails to it, the pain and the blood only amplifying my panic. My hands were sticky and even when I tried to grip something they slipped off.

I was losing all my hope, crying I couldn't yell anymore, not even my body had any will to move, everything hurt and I felt hell tired. I was going to die and it was like an eternity had passed when someone opened the dammed thing.

- I see you're still alive, kesesesese. Y...

That laugh was unmistakable and my feverish mind was put at easy. To this day I'm not sure what else was said after that, relief was so overwhelming that I just sank into unconsciousness. When I next woke up I was on a bed, grateful for not being inside a nightmare anymore…

… or so I thought but life is a bitch and someone was above me, mouth on my neck.

Hell yeah, that was the most strange shit that happened with me. I heard sucks and the alike but couldn't move, was euphoric and anesthetized at same time, I even knew that somehow I was moaning. My fever seemed to have gone down, I couldn't feel the pain of my wounds and the body above me started to fondle and to grind on me.

I'll spare you the details but don't worry, I protected my chastity to this day… okay, maybe I kind of didn't protect it all, but that day the person didn't do much to me. The being felt me up (there was hands all over me, it felt like it was an octopus and not a person above me) and brought me release (just… don't ask...). After this his mouth was on mine, I felt like I HAD to move with it and accept the liquid that was flowing inside, covering my tongue with its iron taste. It was like someone was telling me to drink it, drink it and drink it, accept it, don't deny and just go along. Drinking it made me feel somehow better, even if my mind was high.

For those trying to guess: yes it was a vampire and its spit put me on a drugged high (though I learned about this way after this was done). After settling down I found out that the mysterious person above me was a man. Gilbert was the bastard's name. Yeah, THAT Gilbert. The fucking Gilbert that I thought was my fucking friend.

Wait, I never told you guys but Gilbert was the name of that albino Prussian guy. Anyway, he was feeling me up… "Oh God, why…"

Well that was my first thought but when I took a look inside his eyes, my mind blew. His eyes seemed to shine and there was this strange sexual feeling, attraction, as if telling me to trust myself to this person. I still believed that "no sex before marriage" shit and until then I was hella sure that I was straight. Let it be know that I still love, LOVE boob, even if now I'm more open about sex; but well, there was this magic in him and well… he just guffawed.

- Kesesese, like what you see? I know, I know, I'm awesome, your face is hilarious and it's hard to not look at me, but we need to speak business.

I still felt confused but asked what the hell did he mean with that. The guy laughed some more, wiping something from his mouth. As I took a look at it, more and more it looked like blood and a rush of feelings washed me. For the first time since I woke up I moved: my hand went flying to my neck, something was wet there and I took a look. As I saw blood and was ready to yell, Gilbert pinned me down, with a fang on my lower lip, whispering:

- Oh boy, it's totally not awesome if you start to yell and cry like a little girl. I took you for a man but you really are a boy.

My lips trembled, I could feel a faint pain caused by the sharp tooth. We stood like that for some time, until I calmed down.

- You know Alfred, I like you boy. When your group didn't come back by nightfall I took off to find you. Tsk. If I didn't need to feed and take down some British, I would've been by your side faster and maybe I wouldn't need to condemn you to save your life.

- What…

My voice was a whisper, I cleared my throat and tried again with the same result, so I just spoke slowly like a broken man.

- What do you mean?

He was silent for a while, watching me with clinical and critical shining eyes. After some minutes of disturbing silence, locking our eyes on each other, he turned away, almost defeated. This seriously worried me, the man that said he was awesome all the time, turning away as a clumsy puppy?

- You must know that we are halfway through it and if we stop now you'll die.

He looked at me again, this time his eyes weren't shining but held sadness. I was speechless, even heroes get like that sometimes, and watched him with wide eyes.

- We're halfway through to turn you into a vampire.

-x-x-x-

Sorry lads, that's all I'm gonna tell you today. Even if it's been ages, whenever I recall it I kind of feel bad… Like a trunk running over me, you know? Next time I promise to say how he persuaded me to become a vampire. Maybe I'll tell you how he did it (not sure if it's the only way, never tried at all) and maybe I'll tell you lads about some of my heavy sins.

Don't get mad at me, this one is a sensible topic!

Love.

Yours truly Hero.

-x-x-x-x-

Arthur took off his reading glasses and pinched his nose. His neck was hurting because of how tense he was. Trying to massage the pain away he looked at the cellar and thought out loud:

- Will this bloody blog lead me to a new target or is it another RP, fanfiction or whatever website?

His hunting gear sit on a table at his left, he touched a silver knife. If this information was believable, he would be out hunting another of those blasted dammed vampires. If the idiot who wrote that wasn't luck enough(or unlucky) to describe the name and physical attributes fictionally right and was indeed turned by that wanted, highly bounty target, he'd get a nice money out of that.

He sighed. There was a great possibility of this only being another wanker, so he would ask his friend to track the MAC address of the computer posting that junk. He loved having nerd friends, being a little awkward around technologies himself.

- If it truly is a vampire, he must be the most idiotic prat I ever had the displeasure to hunt...

He smiled and completed in his mind: "... but of course, he's an American".

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

A/N: So this one is my first ongoing/not finished beforehand fic. I know how I want it to go but I'm not sure about updates.

I've done some research about vampires: I read an interesting book that brings some of the legends and I know some literature pieces. Some of the assumptions that will be used here probably will come by the next chapter. I'm not the most versed person when we talk about USA history, I made some research about the Revolutionary War to write this down and yes, Arthur is bitter and maybe I'll explain this latter. I took poetic license to write this all down, having a little research made but didn't get overly fixated with that.

This is also the first time I try to get so many characters involved in the story, let's see how this turns out. Thank you for your time.