Little Red Riding Hood Franada one-shot for MssCassandra. Congratulations on being the 10th reviewer of The Brit and the Patriot.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Hetalia. I'll let you know if I ever do.
Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf
Matthew fastened the silver clasp on his blood red riding cloak, grabbing his basket of everything he would need for the next two days.
Matthew had received a letter from the village across the woods, bringing grim news: his best friend from childhood, Alfred, was sick. The medicine he needed was prepared easily, but the forest was seldom traversed. Matthew had tried to find someone who could help him save his best friend, the two of them so close they were more like brothers, but he had learned something about the hunters of his small township. They were greedy cowards.
Too afraid of the void of trees, no one would help (unless offered great sums of gold, which Matthew didn't have). And so he must make the journey himself.
The moment he stepped into the woods, Matthew could feel its looming presence. He followed the winding path, feeling eyes on his back the whole way. He traveled for three hours like that, dread slowly encroaching itself on him.
A twig snapped behind him, and he spun around. Seeing nothing, he let out a sigh of relief and turned back to his destination in the South. His efforts to advance we're foiled, however, by the tall man who had taken up the space less than a foot before him.
Matthew stared in shock at this strange man, taking in the snow white hair and ruby eyes.
"Why, hello there." The voice came, an unnerving noise. "What are you doing in the woods all alone, Little Red Riding Hood?"
"I... I..." Matthew was at a loss for words, this stranger being so close, a predatory feeling coming off of him and almost suffocating the blond.
"Wow, you're conceited, aren't you?" The white-haired man joked, leaning forward so that their noses were nearly touching. That was how Matthew first took note of how tall this man was. There was an intricate tattoo running up his neck, stark black against pale skin.
Matthew took that moment to compose himself, leaning backwards to regain his personal space. "I'm taking medicine to my brother on the South side of the woods."
The ruby eyes lit up, their owner giving Matthew his breathing room back. "That's wunderbar! I was on my way to the southern village as well! Perhaps we should travel together. Bandits have been seen in the woods lately, and there's strength in numbers."
Seeing himself in no place to refuse, as well as having little choice in the matter, Matthew nodded and took the hand offered to him and shook it, noting the long sword sheathed on the man's right hip.
"Gilbert Bielschmidt." The stranger identified himself as.
"Matthew." The shorter blond replied, trying not to whimper as his hand was effectively crushed.
The two of them walked in near silence, the woods around them seeming to follow their example; Matthew hadn't heard a single sound, nor seen a single stirring in the undergrowth.
The peace was almost more alarming than the earlier noise and uneasy unknown. At least then, Matthew had known whether or not to be afraid.
He noticed something about his companion. The tattoo on Gilbert's neck continued down his back, disappearing beneath the white tunic. He wasn't sure what he was seeing, but if Matthew focused on one point, it almost looked a horribly overly-complicated wolf. It could be called a work of art, the bending of the delicate lines under skin.
After about two hours, Gilbert stopped.
"Gilbert?" Matthew asked in confusion. "Why are we stopping?"
The albino spun around, a mischievous grin on his face. "You see that post over there?" He asked, pointing to a stake pegged into the ground at the side of the path.
Matthew nodded, wondering what the significance of this weathered wooden spike could be that would impede their progress.
"It marks the half-way point through the forest. This is the farthest we will get from civilization." Gilbert explained, turning back to look at Matthew with a hungry gleam in his eyes. "And that also means that no one will be able to hear you scream."
Before Matthew could react, the other man had tackled him, pinning him to the ground. His arms flailed at Gilbert, but where quickly captured at the wrists and held above his head.
"Help!" Matthew screeched, earning a laugh from his assailant.
"Don't worry, Little Red," Gilbert crooned, bringing his face up to Matthew's, allowing his breath to glide over the teen's cheeks, which were red from the effort. "Soon you'll be yelling at me to not stop."
Matthew immediately began to struggle harder, his voice seizing when a rag was stuffed into his mouth. Sweat beaded on his forehead, fear coursing through his veins at the knowledge of what Gilbert was going to do to him.
Gilbert's spare hand snaked downward, grabbing at the waist of Matthew's trousers. He let out whines of protest, tears beginning to form at the edges of his eyes.
"Who's there?" A voice yelled from the line of trees, making Gilbert freeze in shock.
Matthew struggled harder, screaming through the gag.
The sound of hoof beats could be heard, and Gilbert rolled off of Matthew, unsheathing a knife and holding it to the blonde's exposed neck, forcing him to stand.
That was how the rider found them, Matthew's hands held behind his back by the albino, head tilted back helplessly, blade at his throat.
The rider surveyed them with unimpressed blue eyes, dismounting the handsome black steed, his brown leather boots bringing up dust from the path. His shoulder-length blond hair was tied back by a ribbon, a bow on his back.
The stranger shook his head, clicking his tongue softly. "Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert. What am I going to do with you?"
Matthew's eyes widened. It was apparent that these men knew each other, probably even friends. Even so, Gilbert hadn't pulled the weapon away, as though daring the newcomer to approach.
"You could turn around and leave me to my business, woodsman. Or else something might happen to this little bird here." The smirk was evident in Gilbert's voice, though Matthew couldn't see his face.
"But mon ami, where would that leave me? Nothing to show for a trip through the woods, I would be out of a job. On that note, where are your companions? Don't wolves hunt in packs?" He was smug, trying to get a reaction out of the albino.
"I decided to go out on my own for a bit, and I happened upon this tasty morsel. I do hope you'll excuse us, but we have something to take care of else where." Gilbert began pushing Matthew towards the trees.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The blond said offhandedly, slowly stretching a hand to the bow on his back.
Gilbert barked a harsh laugh. "Oh, a day when I find something Francis Bonnefoy won't do. What a great day indeed." The laughter was short-lived, however, because Gilbert, in his moving of his prisoner, exposed one shoulder from behind his captive. The stranger, this Francis, ahd taken the opportunity to draw his bow with lightening speed and shoot an arrow into the bicep of the albino.
Gilbert let out a hissed scream of pain, letting go of Matthew in favor of clutching his wound.
Matthew took this chance to run, his rescuer's extended arm his target, locking his hand to Francis' forearm. He was swung around by the momentum of his running, protectively placed behind the other man.
"Run, wolf." Francis commanded, earning himself an angry, as well as pained, red glare.
Gilbert scoffed, sprinting away with impressive speed for someone with an arrow in them.
Once he was sure the albino was gone, Francis turned to Matthew, compassion lighting his formerly fierce face.
"Are you alright? Did he do anything to you?" He asked the teen, helping him remove the rag.
Matthew nodded. "You got here before anything happened."
Francis smiled softly, resting his hand on Matthew's shoulder. Matthew returned it with a grateful smile, though it was short and small.
The bow was replaced to Francis' back, grabbing the horse's reins and mounting. He stretched out a hand, which Matthew realized was an offer to ride. After picking his basket up from the ground where it had been thrown when Gilbert tackled him, he accepted it, sitting behind the other man. The horse had stayed alarmingly calm through all of this, as though comfortable with the eery woods and humans fighting amongst themselves.
"Wh- who was that? Why did you keep calling him a wolf?" Matthew asked when Francis had the horse moving South.
"They call themselves the Wolves. They're a group of bandits who ambush travelers. I've been hired to stop them." Francis explained.
"What if he comes back with others?" Matthew asked anxiously, panic creeping into his voice.
Francis answered by pulling the horse to a quick stop, looking into Matthew's eyes seriously. "If they come back, I will kill them to protect you. You have my word." Francis grabbed Matthew's cheeks, pressing his lips to the teen's own.
Matthew's heart sped up, but he didn't push away. He found himself melting into the kiss, not objecting when a tongue slipped into his mouth.
When Francis pulled back and looked at Matthew, blue eyes meeting violet.
"Do you trust me?" Francis whispered. Matthew nodded. "Good. Because I will prove myself worthy of that trust." He pecked Matthew's lips, a reminder of the passionate kiss before it, then faced forward again, urging the horse along the path.
WTF?
1) Because I can.
2) Because I wanted to.
3) Because I am obsessed with the Grimm Brother's Tales.
4) Because I hate PruCan with a burning intensity.