I got this fabulous idea. In the past, I had quite a love affair with Umineko no Naku Koro ni. Positively adored it. Then came Hetalia. And I can't believe I've never thought of it before.
The plot is loosely based off Umineko. When I say loosely...I mean very, very, loosely. I only really got the general idea from it. It could even more or less come off as an original piece. It's just the inspiration that comes from Umineko to write something like this.
Pairings abound, everyone! Main will be USxUK, and I'll keep the many, many others in here a surprise. They will not take a backseat, I assure you. ;)
For now, on with the prologue. First chapter will be added shortly as this is far too short to stand on its own.
p r o l o g u e
Vows, Storms, and Darkest Nights
The night was dark, as nights should be.
However, there was something far different about this darkness. Something far more sinister, but not noticeably. If one were to point at the sky on this night and ask what was different about it, they might furrow their eyebrows, squinting, trying to see if they could gauge the different between this night and any other through vision alone. But after a moment they would perhaps shake their head or shrug, saying there really was not anything different about tonight.
At least, nothing one would notice consciously.
The subconscious has the tendency to notice far more than one's consciousness can. Unfortunately, it is usually impossible to say precisely what message the subconscious is trying to send us.
Perhaps this is why those who do not believe in the unseen fare far worse in wicked situations than those who do...
A young man mulls this over in his mind, fingers trailing absently over the crystal stem of an empty wine glass. His eyes stare fixedly, but without focus, at the bare dregs of crimson liquid remaining at the very bottom of the glass. He doesn't move to drink them; rather, he watches the light catch on the reddish liquid, faintly fascinated by how it looks in the candlelight.
A faint knock sounds on the door to his study.
Quickly dropping his dark mood, he smiles faintly. "Come in," he calls out softly to whoever it is that knocks. His smile grows once he sees who it is. An old friend.
His friend looks a bit nervous but clears his throat and shakes his head as if trying to dispel that nervousness. "Ludwig was wondering if you were alright. You haven't come down to dinner in many days now and...we're all worried about you." The last part of his sentence trailed off so he was nearly mumbling.
He, however, caught every word of it, and smiled wearily.
"Please, do not worry yourself over me, Gilbert. Hehe. I'm resilient. I always have been. Tell your brother not to worry."
Gilbert nodded silently at this, crimson eyes looking oddly dark in the candlelit room. This silence and humbleness was entirely out of character for someone as loud as Gilbert. Was there something wrong?
"Say, Gilbert?"
"Mm, yeah?" He sounded a bit nervous again, and coughed once more to try and hide it. "I mean, yes?"
He laughed at this. "Have you ever considered...what it would be like if...he was still - "
"No." Gilbert cut sharply into him before sighing, running a hand through his hair, a silent gesture of nervousness or frustration. "I mean, of course I have wondered that, Feliciano. But there is no point in focusing on the past when the present lies before us, you know?" He sighed in exasperation. "Besides, it's completely un-awesome to worry about stupid things like that. Ha. Just think of it this way...he's there in spirit, or something, I dunno...I'm not so good at saying things like this..." Gilbert scratched the back of his neck, at a loss for words.
Feliciano understood however, having known Gilbert as long as he did. And he truly appreciated what he said. "I understand. And I know it, but I sometimes wonder. Ah, well. I'm acting terribly out of character, aren't I?" He laughed softly. "Tell Ludwig I'll be down for dinner tomorrow night for sure."
Gilbert nodded at all of this, preparing to leave until Feliciano's voice stopped him once more.
"Oh, and call my brother, won't you? Tell him to bring all of his friends and such to visit. I would love to how he and his friends are doing. After all, they are my friends too, right?" He smiled at this.
Gilbert managed a half-smirk in return. "Heh. Of course. Having a party this weekend, are we? Awesome. I'm sure everyone else will be excited about it. I'll go talk to West." He had clearly relaxed; he'd slipped back into using his nickname for his younger brother.
"Of course." Feliciano beamed. "Please do so. I'll see you later, Gilbert." He called after him. "Pleasant dreams."
"You too, Feli." He called back with a smirk in his voice before closing the door softly behind him, leaving Feliciano alone with his thoughts once more. At this, he sighed, tired of being alone with just his thoughts.
"Say, old friend?" Feliciano wandered over the vast window in his study, which he opened, staring up at the night sky.
"What do you say I finally begin this? I'm tired of being alone, you know. I want you with me. So please, won't you come back to me? My brother and his friends are coming, so...I assume you know what to do?" Lighting flashed in response to his words, and a heavy wind rattled the old mansion's windows. Rain came not too long after, the icy droplets wetting Feliciano's right hand, which was raised to the sky.
"Take what you wish," he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically dark, yet full of longing, "as long as you come back to me."
"Chi la dura la vince." He murmured before closing the window as well as his heart.
Translation Notes:
'Chi la dura la vince.' - Something along the lines of 'He who perseveres wins at last.' An Italian proverb I found that I thought fit and that I liked the sound of.
