This is an early prequel to my What was lost. its a bit choppy but I want it to be that way to reflect the thoughts of the charters. pay attention to the character mention in the first sentence that's who your following.
Arthur ran. He could feel it nipping at his heels its warm moist breath far too close for comfort. He looked ahead to the darkness before him panting with the strain he was placing on his body.
How had everything gone so wrong? But then again how had it not gone wrong. He had read this plot a million times. Oh, how he wished he had the luxury to curl up with a book. How his body yearned for a warm fire to be dry and safe.
He felt it before he heard the snapping of the creature's jaws at his heels. His eyes were wild as he frantically made a sharp right; he would do anything to get the creature away from him.
His reprieve was short before the creature was back at his heels. Almost like a nightmare he hysterically thought to himself. If the creature caught him he would be dead.
How stupid those in charge were. If he was dead there was no England and if there was no England they would all die. He hoped the rest of the resistance was all right. He gritted his teeth and used his rage to put on an extra burst of speed keeping his leg out of the creature's maw. The river Thames ran in front of him and he bee lined for it. The creature wouldn't be able to follow him once he hit the river—not that he knew where he would end up. He could be washed up in London for all he knew.
Without pause, he dived into the river allowing the current to pull him along as he heard the cry of the creature from the shore. He let darkness take him as he trusted the river to take him to safety.
/
Patrick stalked through the trees of his land—land that was once Ireland's. He gritted his teeth. Shamus had been killed in the war as one of the early casualties. Last he heard, the government had one of the twins and Alistair was on the mainland. The other twin was presumed dead.
He paused, leaning against one of the trees and bit his lip trying to keep the tears at bay. His family was dying. Things had looked like they would turn out in the beginning of the war. They had foolishly thought that the United Kingdom's and Russia's treaty would be able to give them an edge and they would be victorious.
That's when the bombs happened. That's when Shamus died and the twins were lost. He couldn't afford to think of them as individuals. If he did…he could have possibly lost both of the nations he thought of as his parents.
He took a deep breath and let the feel of the earth run through him. Where the bombs had fell left a tingling dead feeling, but he was used to it. He needed to move to not get tracked down.
/
Alistair stood at the edge of where the Thames met the Channel and fished the limp body out of the waters. He thanked the spirits as he felt the cold clamminess of the dead body in his arms. Arthur would revive; he just needed time.
He cradled his bundle as he started to move inland. They weren't safe out in the open. Arthur must have been desperate to risk washing up in London. He continued to walk, but took a little joy when he first felt the body in his arms inhale.
"You gave me a fright brat," he said knowing Arthur wasn't truly listening yet but would take comfort from feeling the vibrations from his chest as he spoke.
A cold nose moved to the crook of his neck.
"Shamus," the voice breathed.
"I'm sorry lad he's not coming back." Alistair tightened his hold on the body in his arms. Arthur's fingers bent slightly trying to hold on to him. "Paddy has his lands now." He knew Arthur knew this, but sometimes when you came back from death some of the horrible things that had occurred could almost be believed a dream.
Arthur shuddered as tears fell down his face and he pushed his face into Alistair's clothing.
"Where?" Arthur managed to force out.
"Russia. It's not safe for you here any longer."
"Paddy," his voice was so weak.
"The younger ones are doing better with all of this. Paddy will be fine; he's a smart lad. Sleep." Alistair breathed the spell easily as Arthur slumped in his arms.
/
Patrick looped back to the area where he had killed one of those things. The blade he had used was given to him by Shamus, the spell he had used to break though the creatures' thick hide one of Arthur's making.
He made a loop around the bones of the creature. Nothing grew around the skeletal corpse. He moved forwards past it. He had reached the edge of the clearing when something called him back. He went back to the skeleton. There was something in the grass on the other side of it.
He circled around looking at it as his stomach fell. Dirty blonde hair attached to a humanoid shape. He fell to his knees beside the broken body of one of the twins as he hesitantly reached out a hand to touch the burned and battered body.
It was Bran, not his mother. He turned and vomited before freezing. He had just passed by. The body hadn't been here.
They had used him to find out which twin they had killed. He had given his mother away and, more chillingly, they knew he was here.
/
Alistair handed over the body of his younger brother to Ivan. The boat swayed as the Russian carefully cradled the body.
"Comrade?" he questioned hand out to take Alistair's. The spirits' whispering increased in his ear.
"I have to find Paddy." Alistair spoke face grim. It was a death mission. Ivan nodded understanding. The British Isle brothers had already suffered so much.
"Take care of him." His hand reached out to touch the blonde hair. "He did it. He found a way to break through their skin. Once you're though, you can kill'em." Alistair spoke.
"Do you want me to come back?" Ivan questioned holding England's cold form closer.
"No, we'll find our own way. He's yours to take care of now." Alistair shoved the boat further into the water biting his lip to hold back the tears. At least one of them would survive. Britannia's little fighter: he had survived Rome and the World Wars. Hopefully he would survive this too.
He turned racing back towards Ireland. He had to find Patrick.
/
Katyusha held the blonde close to her body. He was smaller and his bone structure was different than her siblings but if with Vanya had said was true, they were all the family he was going to have left. She carded a hand through his hair again removing some of the river grime.
Vanya was on deck and it had took a lot of talking to to get him to allow her to come.
"Alba," the limp body in her arms called.
"He went to get your brother." She whispered to him. his shoulders hunched as he snuggled against her. He would need to eat soon the nutrients would help his body recover. Slowly emerald eyes blinked open. the eyes were cloudy and blind as a newborn kitten. The eyes were one of the last things to recover.
"Open," she whispered into his ear coxing his lips open with a bit of mangled fresh fruit. she squeezed the little lime meat into little bit he could just swallow. He slowly parted his lips allowing the food to be pushed into his mouth. He swallowed a few pinches before settling against her again eyes blinking closed.
It wasn't enough he would need much more energy to recover but he need sleep too.
"Come back Scotland, the kitten can't live without you." She pulled the body close to her letting her tears fall in it hair. She couldn't call this empty shell England it would be too hard to lose him if he didn't recover.
/
Patrick was backed up against a tree planting. he had killed three more of those creature but there had been five to begin with. His muscles shook he want a nation created at the time of sword fighting and his body wasn't use to the stain.
He arched his back away from the tree forcing himself forward. He forced one foot in front of the other almost laughing to himself as that stupid Christmas movies music played through his head.
The twiggs twitched to his left and he brought the sword up blacking the claws of the creature. it growled snapping its horrible maw at him. He turned facing it sword in front of him.
They exchanged blows Patrik slowing down. He felt he had done nothing to the creature. there was a good chance this was one he hadn't hit with the spell and its thick hide was protecting it from him.
The branches rattled behind him and the other one came through the wood. He was dead he wouldn't be able to escape with the weariness in his bones and he didn't have the strength to cast the spell again.
He smiled showing teeth as his eyes took on the manic look the Isles got while fighting.
"I'm taking you with me!" he hiss charging at one.
/
Alistair store through the underbrush rushing towards the sound of the fighting. He had to reach him. He couldn't lose another sibling. he tore through the tree patrick was on the ground at the base of a tree trying to regain his feet. Blood trailed down the side of his face which was white with pain. The boy had given them hell.
He picked up the sword that was in the ground. The familiar ness of the sword overcame him it as Shamus's and Patrick had been using it to protect himself. He smiled shamus was still looking after the boy he claimed to hate.
He charged forward pulling the blade and sinking into the joint of the the neck and head on the back of the creature killing it. He pulled the blade from the creature turning to look at the other one which was now looking at him. Black blood flowed from the dead creature he stood on.
"Not spelled." Patrick's raspy voice filtered over his ears. Well shit he wasn't killing this one. the creature roared at him and he ran the creature at his heals and the sword in his hand.
/
Ivan navigated through the chunks of ice in the water trying to keep the vessel as quiet as possible. so far they had established the creature didn't survive in extreme cold. but then not much could survive extreme cold.
He let his thought wander to the blonde he knew his sister was cradling in the hull. If he recovered... no when he recovered if he had learned how to kill the creatures they could start to make a comeback.
He smiled to himself. rely on good old England to be the stubborn one. to be the one to survive and find a way to fight back when the odds weren't in his favor.
The more important question was would he survive once the fighting was done. Once he realized all his family was dead or would there be enough of his little colonies left to make his cling to life and laugh in deaths face.
He would try to bond arthur to his family. try to anchor the poor nation so he could fight so he would survive so he would live.
He puffed air out of his lungs watching the white air dispel. England might not walk away from this war. But as selfish as it was he hoped England boned with his sister enough to protect them enough to his death. It's why he gave it to his sweet Katasha. Why he let her nurse the poor nation back to health. why he was letting her set herself up for heartbreak when he died. so she might live.
/
Patrick's eyes cracked open as the warm moist breath left his face. the smell of the creatures blood assaulted his nose. He had to warn them. or had he warned them his head hurt. on of the creatures laid dead its horrible body cover in blood from its neck. the other was gone. Someone had spared him.
The cool breeze moved over his burning body as he forced himself up. the wind was encouraging him. His mother was still alive. He took a step forward towards the sound of the chase.
He could cast that spell and hopefully his savior was still alive to kill it.
/
Alistair turned to the creature. He was boxed in. Well fuck he held the blade out as the creature snapped it maw at him. He smirked giving the creature the Kirkland carzy look as he went for it.
his sword struck. his sword went through. Alistair's syes went wide in shock. It had been spelled? No he had hit it before.
"Bastard," the wispy voice met his ears. as the creature fell dead.
Behind it was Patrick slumped down to his knees celery colored eyes welling up with tears.
"Alistair," his hand reached out to him. He dropped the sword scoping the batter child into his arms.
"Paddy, thank you shamus, Paddy," he rocked the boy falling to his knees and holding the body of the youngest in his arms and the boy cried.
"I betrayed them." the boy rasped out. "I betrayed the twins." he cried.
"Hush how do you think you betrayed them?" Alistair asked there was no way the boy willingly betrayed the twins.
/
The kitten's eyes opened as an invisible hand went through his hair. Thank you he whispered in his mind. To tie Bran's spirit to his own like he had was beyond horrible it was the blackest of black magic the most shunned o arts. yet he couldn't lose his twin, and Bran had agreed.
They were together. With Patrick knowing the spell and his reserves of magic he had learned to tap into and Alistairs skills with a blade the two had a fighting chance. The spirit buzzed at his ear/ he wasn't able to hear words but with enough work they had come up with a system.
Bran wanted him to eat. He wanted to sleep. let the dark oblivion take him. The tang of lime was pressed to his lips again. the spirit buzzed in amusement. Limeys and limes. A female voice cooed in his ear even if he could be bothered to figure out what was being said.
He parted his lips. For Bran he would fight. for his poor dead twin win. for what he had id to Bran's soul he would force himself to live.
/
Alistair carried the body of the dead twin. Some rolling hills somewhere. Bran would like that something that could be a pasture. He wished he could return the body to Wales but it was too risky.
Patrick moved at his side the sword on his hip. The boy was smart and had done well to survive so long on his own.
He had told Alistair how he had Identified the body for them. he also told Alistair how the ground around a corpse becomes poised. Black magic. Arthur had to use Black magic to overcome the thick hide. Alistair spine tingled. He couldn't perform black magic. Arthur could he always assumed Bran could. Patrick must have been able to aswell.
He didn't tell the boy. He couldn't tell the boy. Just as he couldn't tell the boy what horrible fate had befallen Bran nor that the black marking on Bran's wrist ment his soul was bound to the living.
The spirits had gone silent once they had seen the mark. He had always assumed it was Shamus who just couldn't let go. how it vanished at Bran's fate confirmed it. He just hoped Arthur knew what he was doing and what boundaries he had crossed. He doubted it would ever be worth it.
A chill went down Alistairs Spine. He had left Arthur with Ivan and Ivan had no idea what kind of cold hearted devil Arthur could be.
/
Katasha watched as he finished the lime. she let him sleep after that. it was better but still not enough. she started rolling bits of bread of he could swallow them.
She started at the wet feeling on her chest. he was crying. She wrapped her arms around him holding him tightly letting him know he wasn't alone.
She moved his arm adjusting him. there was a black mark on the inside of his wrist. She turned it and froze in horror. she knew that mark. it was a mark of evil and soul binding. she should have dropped the body. she should have killed Arthur herself. but she didn't and she couldn't. He would have done it for his family he would have gone that far for them.
She pulled the body tied whispering comfort. if she could pull him into her family maybe she could save her family. Maybe the only way to save them all was t cross those boundaries that should have never been crossed.
She had heard of England's druids of his black magic. Maybe they need evil to bet evil because the hero's had been killed. She tought of America and poor sweet Mathew both nearly babes and killed like helpless babes.
Her family would not be slaughtered. she pulled the body to her. She would make arthur survive for them she would force him too.
/
Patrick walked next to Alistair. they had buried Bran. but he wasn't a fool he had seen the mark. whatever it was it caused Alistair to freeze eyes changing the horror. Alister may be trying to protect him but something horrible had happened to Bran and that black mark proved it.
"I should teach you the spell." He said to Alistair. looking to his eldest brother. According to Alistair they didn't have Arthur. arthur was free and on his way to Russia with Ivan.
"I can't," Alistair spoke.
"Can't what?" Patrick tilted his head.
"I can't do the spell. It not a type of magic I can do." that didn't make sense Alistair was the oldest he had taught the others how to use their magic how could he use it and not Alistair.
"Why not?" Alistair stopped taking a deep breath as the wind ruffled his crimson locks.
"It's black magic, I can't do black magic." Patrick looked at him wide eyed.
"But, I.." Arthur had taught him. it let him kill though things. wt had he done.
"Don't you do that Patrick," Alistair grabbed his shoulders forcing him to look at him. "You survived and surviving is all we can do in this hell hole. There was five of us now there's three. I'm not losing anyone no matter what. you're going to do black magic and I'm going to kill our own human's to survive. you are all that matters to me." he let go and turned back to the path.
Surviving thats what they could do.
Let me know what'cha think!