War of the Arcana

His dreams were nightmares. Vivid visions of destruction and hellfire. Where the heavens wept bloody tears and the earth roared, spewing a murderous red magma from its mouth. The people screamed as noxious vapors choked them. The children crying for the mothers as they were eaten alive by a terrible flesh-rot. The mothers were nowhere to be found, however. For they were already decayed corpses, riddled with maggots.

Sighing, Arthur leaned against the wall while the melodious notes of the violin swirled around him. He scanned the room with narrowed eyes, sipping delicately from a porcelain tea cup. Noble ladies and gentlemen from all over Assiah conversed amongst each other. The ladies in their sumptuous gowns made of fine fabrics and glittering jewels flirted coquettishly with the noblemen, laughing giddily as they hid their blush with their delicate fans. To Arthur, their laughter was fake. Their corsets, biting into the skin, suffocating them. Their words were empty. The rouge they applied liberally, garish on their snow-pale floral perfume, eye-wateringly strong.

The prince shook his head, placing a hand over the amulet he wore. The faint heat radiating from the bronze coin prickled his fingers, reminding him as to why this party was held in the first place. He needed to find a Champion. Quickly. Else his kingdom would crumble to ruins and his hopes would be shattered. That was why he sent out those invitations. So, hopefully, he could find at least one of the four Arcanas that were supposed to fight alongside him.

If his sources could be relied on, he was running out of time. Already, Yetzirah had assembled all four of its champions, while Atziluth had two. Even Briah had one of its champions. He didn't have a moment to lose. So, why did his brothers sabotage him and announce that this party was to find him a wife? What the hell were they thinking? Even Peter went along with the others, and that cheeky little fool was an Arcana! He should've understood the importance of this party better than anyone!

Arthur's face twisted with disgust, his teeth slicing the inside of his cheeks. The Coin of Nefesh told him that one of the Champions was here, or it wouldn't be emitting its gentle heat. But how in all the blazing levels of hell was he supposed to find his Champion with this gaggle of vapid airheads circling around him?

He pushed himself off the wall, his emerald long coat flaring out behind him as he strolled through the crowd, deflecting the eager ladies who swarmed to him like locusts to the fields. He grinded his teeth together, clenching his hands into tight fists. He didn't want a fucking wife, dammit! He was only nineteen!

He stormed out into the courtyard, where the nobles were a faint trickle compared to the flood inside the ballroom. The delicate fragrance of live roses filling his nose and cleansing it of the rancid stench of pressed violets and plumerias. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, sitting down on a marble bench and placing his teacup next to him. He looked up at the star-spangled sky, staring at the waxy face of the silver moon. The amulet he wore cooled a little, the heat just a mere ghost.

Arthur frowned and grabbed it, holding it in front of him. He hated its method of tracking. Made it a real pain in the arse. He rolled his eyes and tucked it underneath his white linen blouse. Why couldn't Nefesh just come right out and hand him a list, saying "Here are your Champions! have fun!"

"Hiya!" A young boy with sandy blonde hair cartwheeled out in front of him, dressed in a formal pine-needle green suit. Arthur narrowed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he forced a smile on his face.

"Hello, Peter," he hissed in between clenched teeth. The young boy laughed giddily, tumbling to a stop. He pushed himself off the ground, dusting the front of his suit off and adjusting the matching sailor hat he wore.

"How are you enjoying the ball so far, brother?" he enquired, grinning wickedly. Arthur widened his forced-smile, his lime-green eyes flashing murderously. Seeing it, Peter took a step back, his ocean-blue eyes widened in an innocent expression.

"You know very well how I'm enjoying it." Arthur dug his nails into the palm of his hands, wincing at the faint shock of pain that jolted through him. "You little fucker," he snarled. Peter tilted his head to the side, placing a hand on his hips.

"You jerk!" he shot back. "You know what mum said about that kind of language!" Arthur snorted and stood up, towering over his younger brother. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"And you know how important this party was to me! And here you go teaming up with David and John to wreck it for me!" He threw his left hand outwards, motioning furiously at the moon bathed castle behind him. "I told you about my dreams!" he fumed. "The Golden Dawn is fast approaching and the fates are lining us up to go to war!" Peter recoiled and took another step backwards. "You know just as well what will happen to our Kingdom if Assiah is defeated!" Arthur continued. "The people will-"

"I know very well what would happen!" interjected Peter, furrowing his thick eyebrows together. "Still, it's just a blooming ball! Not the end of the World!" Arthur threw his hands up in the air.

"You're not getting it! It will be the end of Assiah! Already, Yetzirah has all its Champions, and soon it will strike!" He grabbed Peter by the shoulders, shaking his younger brother vigorously. "Don't you understand, you twat?"

Peter ripped himself free from Arthur, shooting a black look at his older brother. "Don't do that, you jerk!" he snipped, stamping the ground with his feet. "And you don't know that Yetzirah is going to come after us first! You told me yourself, Arthur! There can only be one winner!" Arthur groaned and buried his face in his hands.

"You wanker! Don't you have a brain in that abnormally oversized head of yours? Out of all the Kingdoms, Yetzirah is on the worst terms with us!" Arthur looked up, giving his younger brother a virulent death stare. "I hope you're proud of yourself," he hissed. "Once this bloody ball is over, I'm going to get stuck with some gibbering ninny, and everyone will be so preoccupied with the Royal Wedding, I won't have any time at all to find my Champions!"

Peter flexed his shoulders airily, looking off to the side. "So, just don't pick one. Mum and Dad can't force you into a marriage that you don't want," he replied simply. Arthur gaped incredulously at him, wondering if his younger brother had finally taken leave of his senses. Had he forgotten who their parents were? Sure as the Devil ruled hell, they would force Arthur into a marriage. Particularly if he hated her. Because every woman that he hated, Elizabeth and John, adored.

"Why don't you just tell them, you jerk?" Peter huffed, folding his arms. Arthur let out a humorless bark of laughter and placed a hand on his forehead.

"And have them call Father Gregory again? I don't think so. Besides…" he trailed, looking disconcerted. "They don't have much time left, either. Once the Golden Dawn arrives, their lives are forfeit. I don't want my words to force them into rash action, else they'd ruin everything." Peter sighed and looked down at his boots, the soft brown leather glowing with the muted light the moon threw on them.

"I still wish you wouldn't get so uppity, though." He looked up at Arthur with a pouty expression. "I'm an Arcana too, remember? I still have some value." Arthur rolled his eyes, placing a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. He bent down until he was at eye-level with Peter, a crooked smile on his face.

"No offense, Peter," he intoned. "But your powers are absolutely horrendous when it comes to actual combat. In other words, you're close to useless."

Peter's jaw dropped before snapping shut. He gave his older brother an indignant glare. "You jerk!" he cried. "I hope mum picks out an emotional airhead for you! Maybe you'll be forced to be more considerate of other people's feelings!" With those words, he ran away, sprinting back into the castle. Arthur watched him go with a wicked grin and both hands on his hips.

Once Peter had disappeared from sight, Arthur shook his head and took a seat back down on the bench. A cool night breeze wafted through the courtyard, ruffling his messy golden-blonde locks. He took out the Coin of Nefesh again, staring at the bronze circle lying in the palm of his hand. He sighed and stood up, once more, staring at the castle with a despondent look. Whether he liked it or not, he'd have to go back inside and give it another try. The Coin did sense something, after all. Even if it was just a faint glimmer. This was probably his last chance.

The moment Arthur stepped back into the ballroom, he knew something was off. The Coin flared up, causing Arthur to gasp at the sudden surge of heat. The orchestra had ceased playing. An empty silence filling the air. The Nobles were gathered in a large circle, gawking at the two people standing in the center of it: a blonde Nobleman of his late teens with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and a dark-skinned man with dreadlocks. The black man glowered at the blonde male with such a fervid intensity, Arthur was surprised he didn't spontaneously combust on the spot.

He took a step forward, gasping as the heat strengthened. Another step. The coin was blisteringly hot. With a startled cry, Arthur yanked it off his neck, holding it right out in front of him. All heads swiveled in his direction, staring intently at their prince. Arthur glared at all of them. He crossed his arms, setting his lips into a hard line. "Whatever, is going on here?" he snipped coolly and took another step towards the crowd.

The black man jabbed an angry finger at the blonde man. "This ass," he snarled, shooting the blonde a dirty look. "Presumed he had the right to not apologize when he stepped on my feet, repeatedly, with those dumbass high-heel shoes of his!" The blonde looked down at his knee-high boots made of black leather and lifted a foot up, inspecting the heel.

"To be fair, dude, this ain't a high-heel." He looked up, rolling his eyes. "And for the fifty-fifth time, it wasn't me! Well… except for that last time, but not my fault you have such freakishly huge feet!" he added defensively. The black man bristled and took a step forward, but was stopped as another blonde male grabbed his arm.

"Please stop, Carlos," he whispered. His violet eyes were striking against his deathly-pale face. He shot the blue-eyed blonde an exasperated look. "I'm sure Alfred will apologize, won't you?" he pleaded. Alfred furrowed his brow, cocking his head to the side.

"As if," he retorted sharply. "What did I do wrong?"

"WHY YOU!" Carlos roared, ripping free from the violet-eyed blonde and lunged at Alfred. Arthur rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, muttering an incomprehensible phrase under his breath.

There was a deafening crack and a flash of emerald light. The two men cried out as they were thrown against the wall. Alfred slumped to the ground dazed, while Carlos staggered to his feet, grumbling dourly. Arthur snorted and stepped into the circle of gaping nobles, blowing his bangs out of his eyes with a gloriously bored expression. In the crowd, he spotted his parents glaring darkly at him for breaking their number one rule.

No magic unless permitted.

Arthur didn't care. The scolding he was sure to get was worth it if he did find one of the Champions. The Coin was emitting such an intense heat that he could practically feel it, even when held at a safe distance to prevent it from burning him. "Seriously you two," he drawled airily, taking a step towards Alfred. The coin burned even hotter. Arthur furrowed his brow, pausing. "Childish, both of you."

Alfred huffed and stumbled to his feet, giving Arthur a flippant look. "Really, eyebrows?" he retorted. Arthur's eyes widened, before narrowing into little slits. This man did not just cast an eyebrow-related insult at him. Hell no.

"What was that, you wanker?" he snapped. Alfred rolled his eyes, cantering his hips sassily.

"You heard me," he replied. "Or, are you stupid?" The violet-eyed blonde groaned, burying his face in his hands. Arthur stiffened, his fingers curling into a claw-like shape. This boor could not be his Champion. The Coin had to be mistaken. Arthur took a step back. The Coin cooled just a bit. Arthur groaned disparagingly and slapped his hand over his forehead. No. No. No.

Carlos growled, his hand twitching with the desire to strangle Alfred. "See what I mean?" he demanded. Arthur sighed and looked up to the vaulted ceiling, the diamond fire of the crystal chandeliers nearly blinding him. He dropped his gaze back to earth.

"Unfortunately… yes…"

He whipped his gaze back to where Alfred had been standing. Where. Arthur's eyes widened, his jaw dropping. He exchanged a look with several people in the crowd. "Where the bloody fuck did he go?" He panicked, scanning the crowd desperately. He met his mother's eyes. The statuesque Queen's emerald eyes narrowed menacingly at her son. She mouthed the words "we need to talk". Arthur nodded absentmindedly in response, furtively surveying the crowd. There was no way in heaven's bloody name that Alfred had just disappeared. No way possible.

Fucking dammit! Even if he was a boor, he still needed the wanker! How dare he just leave? Arthur's ears flamed a vivid red as he gnashed his teeth together, screwing his eyes shut. He heaved a deep breath. "Did. Anyone. See. Where. He. Went?"

Much to his dismay, the entire crowd of Nobles shook their head, whispering confusedly among themselves. Arthur whimpered and collapsed to his knees. "I don't suppose anyone knew who he was either?"

More "nos" and headshaking. Arthur sighed, liberally massaging his temples. "That would explain everything," he muttered to himself, a humorless smile on his face. The Queen stepped forward, the crowd parting for her.

"I don't see why you appear so anguished, my son,' she snipped crisply. She looked down at Arthur, a strand of wavy flaxen hair falling into her face. Instinctively, she brushed it away, tucking it behind her ear. "You have bigger things to be concerned about." She motioned with her hand. "Now, stand up and have some pride," she demanded. Arthur groaned but obliged, rising to his feet.

"GUESS WHO'S GETTING MARRIED?" A gleeful King John barreled into the room, dragging a lithe blonde girl who looked barely older than thirteen behind him. Hot on the King's trail was a cantankerous-looking blonde male with sharp avocado eyes.

"You better take good care of her!" he hollered after the king, waving a fist furiously in the air. Arthur's jaw dropped. He stared at his father, with his powerful build and coppery brown hair, as if he was a stranger. Not for the first time, though. More like, the millionth. Surely, this docile waif his father was presenting him with was not his wife? Elizabeth glared at her husband, who withered under his wife's wrath.

"Not now," she huffed. "Our son is in a great deal of trouble." She slid her gaze over to a horrified Arthur. "Isn't that right?" Her smile was fierce, chilling her son's blood to a solid state. He alternated his gaze between the King and Queen, unable to speak. The vexed blonde man chasing after the King shot Arthur a scathing look.

"Take care of her and respect her or else…" He dragged a finger across his throat, narrowing his eyes. Arthur shuddered, looking back at the crowd. In the corner of his eye, he saw Peter nod, the little boy giving him a "thumbs-up" sign. Don't worry, he mouthed, I got this! Arthur nodded feebly. Thanks, he replied mentally, giving his younger brother a grateful look. Seeing him, Peter beamed and ran off, weaving his way through the crowd.

Two blonde males streaked through the winding cobblestone street, the storefronts and houses were blurs of color as they made their way to the vacant town square. They stumbled to a stop, breathless and coated with sweat. Their hearts thumping wildly as adrenaline coursed through them.

"You-" Matthew doubled over, clutching at his stomach. Alfred chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, not too bad of a party, eh?" He tilted his head to the side, smiling broadly. Matthew sighed and threw his arms into the air, looking frazzled. His wavy hair was beginning to frizz. His large curl, sticking out to the side like a sore thumb. The tan suit he wore was rumpled and streaked with dirt from his fall while fleeing the castle.

"You-" Matthew struggled for words, his cheeks flushing a blotched red. "Can't believe you! First you sneak off to a royal ball we have no right attending! Then you insult one of the invited guests! And then you insult the Prince!" With the last sentence, his voice rose in pitch, crossing the realm into hysterical. Alfred snorted and shrugged his shoulders, dismissing Matthew's words with an eye roll.

"Sheesh, you're acting like we're in prison, awaiting our execution. No permanent harm was done," he replied dourly. Matthew's jaw dropped, too outraged to form a cohesive sentence. "Besides," continued Alfred, scratching behind his ear. "The Prince was a weirdo. Did you see the way he was staring at me? It was like he wanted something."

"YOUR HEAD ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK!" Matthew shrieked, his voice rising even higher in pitch. Alfred cringed as the shrill cry nearly shattered his eardrums. "I can't believe you!" Matthew ranted, shooting mental daggers at his younger half-brother. "We could've gotten into a lot of trouble! What were you thinking? Insulting the Prince's eyebrows?"

Alfred raised his brows, shaking his head lightly. "Well, did you see them? They were unnaturally thick," he pointed out candidly. "You'd think royalty could afford a stylist that could trim eyebrows." Matthew seethed, flushing an even deeper red. All he needed was steam to billow out of his ears and he'd be the spitting personification of a smoking volcano, ready to erupt.

"That's not the point!" he shouted. "Did you stop to think? Our parents could've suffered thanks to your reckless conduct! If I wasn't there to get you out of there, you could be rotting away in the dungeons!" He breathed deeply. "Have you even considered how mom would feel if her youngest son got arrested?"

Alfred flinched. "Well… that's hardly fair!" he shot back. Matthew narrowed his eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Would you classify tonight's actions as 'fair' either? How would you feel? We were lucky to escape tonight! And now, we'll have our parents to deal with once they get home! You did absolutely none of the tasks you were assigned to do!" He stormed over to Alfred, jabbing him furiously in the chest. "If you even bothered to apply half the effort into do what you were supposed to do, as you did devising daring stunts, we'd be much better off! Who knows? Maybe the inn wouldn't be struggling so much!"

Alfred sucked in his breath, holding it, before releasing it in a slow hiss. "I want to enjoy my life, alright?" he retorted bitterly. "I know I have responsibilities, ok? I just want to do all the fun stuff before I'm forced to except my duties and move on with my life." Matthew sighed and hung his head, deflating a bit.

"Alfred, that time is now." He placed a hand on his half-brother's shoulder. "We need to pitch in. The business is struggling, and our parents can't afford to hire new people to replace the ones who have quit." Alfred looked away, pouting. Matthew shook his head. "Don't give me that look," he chided. "We should head home, now."

Alfred stared at Matthew for the longest moment, before nodding, swallowing the lump Matthew's words had risen in his throat. "Yeah…"

Well… for some weird reason… The first version of this story kept refusing to show up on my profile page and in the Archives after a while… so… I'm hoping for better luck for this one… and being the prick I am… decided to re-write it, 'cause I felt as if the first version was too messy in the beginning… Tarot Cardverse rules still apply (Quick summary coming ahead of Tarot Cardverse, end here and don't forget to R&R if you liked this story, but don't want to hear my spiel on this imaginary Tarot Card world I made up for Hetalia) But seriously, the lack of Arcana mythos-related Hetalia stories (more like the absence) disappoints me ;u; Anyways… here's just some basic info!

The Arcanas are grouped according to the four virtues I read about in a book called "Tarot: Beyond the Basics" and each group is associated with a different suite. The four suites being Cups, Coins, Wands, and Swords. Each suite is associated with an element, not to mention… I gave them color associations! Here's the short list…

Fiery Wands- Fortitude: Golds, reds, and oranges

Watery Cups- Temperance: Blues, purples, and silvers

Airy Swords- Justice: Black and white

Earthen Coins- Prudence: Greens, browns, earthy colors in general

Anyways… remember to R&R if you liked this story! (And i'm sorry for the inconvenience, really… FF was being a dick QwQ So I made this chapter a bit longer than the first version as a small bit of compensation to the people who did read and liked this story)