For snowyfoxpaws, on Tumblr and Archive of Our Own.
I was rereading part of "Down the Rabbit Hole" by Snowyfoxpaws (wonderful story, by the way, I recommend) and was inspired by the half-dragon America. I found myself picturing a struggling transformation for America and Canada and...well, this happened. This has not been beta'ed at it's just before 5 am local time as I wrap this up. I'm...concerned that the transformation sequence at the end of this is a bit confusing but hey. You can only expect so much of a one-shot I started after 2 am. I had two goals: (1) tell the story and (2) use as little passive voice as possible. One more note at the end, fyi. Hope you stick around for it.
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
"We'll need scales to deal with that heat," England noted, mentally laying out the last minute adjustments to the prepared transformation and teleportation spells. "We won't be able to get close enough to the volcano otherwise."
"Really, England," France grimaced as he wiped dirt and sweat from his face. "This plan keeps getting more and more preposterous."
America jostled his shoulder.
"Dude, he's not the one that got us into this mess."
Rolling his eyes as America and France began bickering about how they'd ended up in the fairy tale-like world, Canada began to pile the extra gear they'd been carrying under a nearby rock formation. Going by the generally desolate feel of the terrain around them, it was unlikely anyone would chance upon and benefit from their castoff supplies.
The past few months had been a challenge to say the least. They'd spent what seemed like weeks exploring this country after their sudden tumultuous entry, living off the land and with no clear idea where they were or how to get back to their world, their home.
Weeks of France complaining about camping and the poor company of certain members of their party.
Weeks of England snarling at France about the constant complains and his refusal to take responsibility for the situation they found themselves in.
Weeks of America and Canada trying to figure out if their guardians remembered how to survive in the wilderness with no proper tools as the twins hunted game to supplement the roots and mushrooms and berries that dotted the countryside, built and tore down shelters as raging thunderstorms tore through their meager campsites, and prodded the elder nations into action with each sunrise.
The brigand camp they'd stumbled after those first awful weeks into proved the first sign of hope they'd found since ending up in this fantasy world. The villains easily dispatched, they'd acquired armor and weapons, proper food, and a map of the area.
The surviving brigands happily answered any and all questions put to them, cowed by any number of things:
The terrifying strength America had displayed when he seized a nearby fallen tree and used it to smash the wooden barricades to pieces before tossing it aside and demolishing everything he could get his hands on;
Canada's howling berserker rage that led him to tear into the worst of the fight, hacking and slashing everything before him as he tore weapons from his enemies hands and put them to use;
The deadly speed and force France employed in identifying the brigand force's leader and dispatching the guards that tried to defend him; or
The hellish rain of fire and magic England dispatched against the brigands' lone magic user and then the remaining enemy forces.
Interrogating the brigands led the now armed nations to a town a week's distance away. Questioning the townsfolk led them to a sorcerer living alone high in the mountains who eventually came to believe their tale and agreed to assist them in finding a way home.
England toiled for months with the sorcerer to create the spell that would take them home. The magic used in this land reacted in unusual ways compared to the magic of their home and it took time to modify his own spells for this world and to master the new magics the surrounded him.
France took over the management of the sorcerer's tower, ensuring its more martial and independent defenses held against the forces that periodically raged while also feeding the bodies and soothing the tempers of the quarrelsome magic users. As tiring as the testy sorcerers could be, he eventually found some measure of comfort in delighting their reluctant host with whatever special dishes and sweets he could prepare.
America and Canada, relieved to get away from their quarrelsome elders, crisscrossed the country back and forth, marching up and down the mountain countless times to obtain supplies and information.
The twins found these months almost pleasant, using their many trips to from tower to town and cave and enemy lair to explore the land serving as their temporary home. They fought nasty goblins and deadly curses, flirted with many a saucy and attractive barmaid, and earned the eternal gratitude and respect of the surrounding territories.
They had found a way to revive and relive old, old memories from before France and England, when it was just the two of them happy in the wilderness under the stars.
"I'm almost going to miss this place," one of them murmured one night as they camped on the mountainside. Wrapped up together in the cold night under thick blankets, their minds tangled pleasantly together. Instead of the almost oppressive oneness that occurred back home when in similar circumstances, they instead found that the thin line the existed between them blurred, allowing them to hold onto their individual identities but still able to enjoy the sensation of their shared soul merging back into one.
In time, the solution to their predicament emerged and the four castaway nations waited out a bitterly cold winter before finally embarking on the final leg of their journey home.
Naturally, getting home required another month of walking, riding, or outright stealing borrowing transportation.
"The overall layout of the ley lines in this world," England commented one night, "is quite different from our own. Those differences, however, are our ticket out. Once we reach the equivalent point on the opposite end of the ley line we arrive at, we can recreate the teleportation spell that through no one's particular fault" he glared at France at this point "moved us from our world to this one."
"And we have no idea where exactly that spot is," Canada asked, dreading the answer.
England's grimace proved answer enough.
"Let me guess," America finally spoke as they all stared before them. "We need to go in there."
England's guide spell had sped off into the distance as they neared a steaming volcano and vanished into the smoke drifting up from the volcano's rumbling mouth.
"We were in a plane when we were transported here, so it makes sense we'd need to be in the air to leave," Canada responded after a moment. He could feel the heat from here. Yuck. He already felt half-baked.
"We'll need scales to deal with that heat," England noted, mentally laying out the last minute adjustments to the prepared transformation and teleportation spells. "We won't be able to get close enough to the volcano otherwise."
"Really, England," France grimaced as he wiped dirt and sweat from his face. "This plan keeps getting more and more preposterous."
America jostled his shoulder.
"Dude, he's not the one that got us into this mess."
Rolling his eyes as America and France began bickering about how they'd ended up in the fairy tale-like world, Canada began to pile the extra gear they'd been carrying under a nearby rock formation. Going by the generally desolate feel of the terrain around them, it was unlikely anyone would chance upon and benefit from their castoff supplies.
After reaching a vaguely satisfying end to their argument, America and France joined Canada under the rocks and watched as England ventured closer to the volcano, stooping now and then to pick up something from the ground.
After a few hours, he finally returned carrying several dark rocks, and pulled out a spell book and a silver knife to make the final alterations to the spells.
"Right," he proclaimed as he snapped the book closed and tucked it back into his pack. "The teleportation spell is in place. We'll just need to fly into it. It should be lit up like one of America's oversized Christmas trees, so finding it won't be a problem once we're through the smoke."
"There's nothing wrong with my Christmas trees," America grumbled, hauling himself to his feet. He reached out and offered a hand to France and Canada each and pulled them up as well.
"Take stone and spread out," England instructed. "Don't interrupt me once I start casting the spell. The transformation will feel a bit odd but don't fight it."
"When you said we would need scales," France commented as he reached out to take one of the stones, "it almost made me think you were planning to turn us into dragons," he finished, brushing past England to stand a ways back from the others.
"That is exactly what I mean." England's eyes gleamed, a bright light shining deep in their emerald depths. "We need wings and we need to survive the heat of the volcano. And that means dragon."
America glanced at his brother, seeing a hint of apprehension in his eyes. Not too surprising. His brother was quite handy in a cockpit but he was very much a creature of the earth. When they were younger, a visit to or from Scotland always resulted in Canada attaching himself like a leech to the other nation's side to walk for hours up and down hills and through the mud, asking questions about every rock, plant, tree, and creature they came across the entire time.
England had hated and adored this trait. He hated having to clean the resulting mess but it always meant took his northern brother out of his hair for several hours and saved him from being dragged along one of Scotland's forced marches through the countryside.
After securing their own stones, the twins moved apart until they were equidistant to each other and France with England at the center.
"Right, remember, anything we're carrying on our persons will come with us. Got everything?" After a quick glance to confirm everyone's assent, he stretched out his right hand, balancing the stone on the palm of his hand and instructed the others to follow suit.
He reached deep through the earth, delving deep into the magical heart of this place. He stretched his mind through the air, picking up the scent and essence of the aether. Heat radiated from the ground through his heavy boots and the blowing wind shifted slightly to carry the promise of nearby water. Armed with these elemental forced, he turned his mind to the rune covered stones each nation held before them.
The sudden elemental resonance pinging from each nation shocked him, the surprised jerk of his limbs nearly causing him to drop runestone and bring a premature end to the spell.
While readied only for his own resonance with water, England quickly (and with some relief), made a slight adjustment to the spell and pushed it into himself and out towards the others.
First came fire. France endured hardship and strife with burning determination. Temperamental. Volatile. Master chef. Passionate lover. Louis XIV, the Sun King. The heat ripped through him, leaving little room for thought as he channeled towards his dearest beloved foe.
Next came Water, his deepest love and the mistress of his greatest era. He knew the ways of the ocean, of the seas and rivers. It flowed around him, teasing him with promise of calm waters and hidden secrets deep in its depths.
Earth rumbled beneath him, stubborn and reliable…until enraged. Canada's core echoed his calm, practical, grounded nature, but also promised dire retribution once provoked.
Air flitted about America, darting in and around him. Always racing ahead, pushing for more, leaping from one thing to another. The aether called to America as the sea called him.
Each powered now by a separate element, England took a deep breath and unleashed the final part of the transformation spell, the runes carved into the basalt rock suddenly glowing in his hands.
England relaxed, so accustomed to changes of shape that the spell ran down well-worn paths, needing only a sliver of focus to stay on course. He knew well the green scales overtaking his form and how to keep from being thrown off balance.
He could feel France taking quickly to the change, exercising that quick mind and burning determination that made him deadly even when backed into a corner. His body blurred like a shimmer of heat and the snapped back into focus, now a much larger scaled and winged shape.
Leaving the slender blue being to sort out where to place his feet and how to manage his new appendages, England turned his mind to the twins, sensing they were struggling far more with the change.
Canada and America fought, pushing back against some other that sought to overtake England's spell. With narrowed eyes, England pushed hard at his spell, pouring more power through it. The other pushed back, lashing out at him and defending itself from the invading force of the spell.
France craned his slender neck as the feel of England's magic raced away, leaving him tangled in new limbs. The ground began to shake beneath him and a metallic scent began to waft through the air. Craning his neck, France looked first at England (a small, almost delicate green form the belied the deadly claws carving deep grooves into the rock) then at the blurred shapes of America and Canada.
The air around the twins twisted and turned, the metallic scent growing stronger even as the tremors in the ground grew stronger. England roared in frustration and planted his feet further apartment, wings snapping open to help keep his balance as he poured even more power in the spell, seeking to simply overpower the other that kept fighting back, kept trying to drag his spell down a completely different route and turn it to its own purposes.
With a sudden curse, America suddenly moved, darting almost too fast to be seen to his brother's side. Canada's hand flew out to grab America's and then it was done. Their combined will overpowered the other and the transformation finally took place.
England stumbled slightly as the ground went abruptly still and France finally found it possible to stand and get his limbs into order. After taking a moment to right themselves, the two Europeans turned their attention back to the pile of confused extremities that made up America and Canada.
France busied himself with the use of his wings while England separated the twins and could glide from one rock formation to another by the time America and Canada found their feet and started their own practice.
England sat back on his new haunches and relaxed. He could see how quickly France had adapted to his new form and he doubted it would take the boys very long to do the same. They were as identical as dragons as they were in human guise. Golden scales and eyes like day and night. America prodded his brother with sharp horns, pushing him to spread those shining wings and fly.
After several hours of flying lessons, the four banished nations turned to the mountain and took to the air. Like England had promised, the beacon for home glowed with the many colors and intensity of America's ostentatious Christmas trees.
England hung back as France soared through the light and vanished. America nudged Canada through before following, casting a quick glance at the green dragon bringing up the rear.
With a toothy grin, England cast one last piece of magic to close the portal after he passed through. The lights glowed as he sailed into the portal, slowly dimming as he passed by. He could feel home on the other side, home mere seconds after they had been torn from it. That had been the trickiest part of the spell, but well worth the effort.
Home.
Notes: If you read some of my older Hetalia Headcanons on Tumblr, you'll find one where I note that I believe America and Canada do have some basic magical abilities that include transformation. The 'other' that's fighting back at the end here are their usual forms, which are not dragons. I can go more in-depth here about my headcanon and how it's interacting with this story...but I doubt most of your care. :P Anyways, I hope you enjoyed.