Hey Everyone! This was one of the stories I wrote for my friend's birthday, and I thought I'd post it! She really enjoyed it, so I though you all might as well! (that and and the fact that so many people have asked me to read this posting it here makes everything easier...)
Hetalia is not mine, I just enjoy putting their characters in crazy situations.
Enjoy!
xxxx
England's Point of View
xxxx
My eyes blinked open sluggishly as I sat up slowly and stretched, yawning as I did so. Morning already? I hadn't slept that well in a while... That mattress did wonders for my back. Odd... My body felt strangely heavy, like I was covered with one too many blankets. I groped around for the curtain of my four poster bed and pulled it open, allowing the light to pour in.
There was a moment of utter silence, the kind of silence I can only describe as the silence preceding this exclamation:
"WHY THE BLOODY HELL AM I IN A DRESS? ! ?"
I scrambled off the bed and into a standing position. Wait a minute...
This was not my bedroom. That was not my bed. Where the hell was I? ! It seemed to be a medium sized, round room, with a radius of about fifteen feet. Other than the large—and quite comfortable— bed, the room was furnished with a dresser, full body mirror and a chair by a window. I took a step towards the wall, stumbling as I did so. "What in God's name—? !" I hiked up my skirt—and tried to retain my dignity as I did such— to see a pair of white heels. I quickly kicked off the offensive footwear and made my way over to the window. Stone? The walls were made of stone, and the window had no glass. Suddenly it clicked.
I was in a tower.
I turned and suddenly was facing the mirror; I took that moment to finally assess my, uh, outfit. Upon my head was a silver tiara, with... Peridots? Emeralds? Some sort of green jewel. A white ribbon bearing the similar colored gem was fastened around my neck like a choker. My gaze fell lower to see that the top half of the dress was white. It was strapless and formfitting, hugging my torso in a way that actually flattered my... Has my body always looked that bloody effeminate? ! I also noticed the elbow-long, pristine white gloves that adorned my arms. At my waist the dress flowed outward in that same beautiful—I had to admit that it was a pretty color— shade of green and reached all the way to the floor.
A gown.
A princess gown.
I was dressed as a princess.
What in God's name is going on here? !
Okay, calm down Arthur... Think your way through this. Where were you last night that could have possibly led to this situation...? I was out drinking, I know that, but I don't have a hangover so I couldn't have drunk much... I was at the bar with France...
Wait, France? !
With a rush it came back to me. France had offered me a night at the pub of my choice, all expenses paid. I would never pass up a chance like that, so naturally I complied. After a round or so of shots that frog insisted that I sample the margarita mix he had brought, and then... Nothing. I don't remember a single thing beyond that point, which means—"THAT BASTARD DRUGGED ME!" I realize out loud. It echoed strangely off the stone walls, and I covered my mouth sheepishly. After a moment my hands dropped back down to my sides and formed fists.
First things first: find a way out. I scanned the room again, taking note of the sheets on the bed. I walked back over to the window and stuck my head out of it. I judged it to be a thirty to thirty-five foot drop. There seemed to be a large gate surrounding the tower, with a straight path to the main gate lined with cherry blossom trees.
Wait, why cherry blossoms? No... Don't let yourself be sidetracked. Focus on escaping first. I pulled my head back in and observed the window itself. It was that of a traditional tower, maybe three by four feet. It would be a bit of a squeeze to get through... Now all I needed was—my gaze happened to fall upon my discarded heels. I looked from them to the mirror. I smiled in relief.
This seemed like the beginning of a beautiful escape plan.
I instantly grabbed the shoe and threw it with all my might into the reflective glass. Large, spidery cracks splintered across its surface, and the second hit sent large shards cascading to the floor. A picked the longest shard and examined it. It had a jagged cutting edge, brilliant. I cut down the curtains and stripped the bed, gathering all of the material present. Although cliché, making a 'Bed Sheet Ladder' was my only option at the moment. I worked for at least twenty minutes, meticulously tying knot after knot and stripping those God awful gloves off my arms so I could work better. I tied one end to the bed to anchor it and threw the other out the window. I took one of my discarded gloves and wrapped it around the newly crafted 'handle' of my mirror shard. Gripping that between my teeth I quickly positioned the chair by the window and climbed out. Bracing my feet against the wall I slowly began my descent, cursing my lack of footwear.
Well, here goes nothing!
It took a moment before I hit the ground, quite literally. When I had about three feet left to climb down my 'rope' had decided to come undone and let me fall the rest of the way down. Gee, thanks. One look of the gate at the end of the path was enough to get me sprinting, bare feet be damned. I all but threw myself at the gate, struggling to scale it. Despite what some people—namely an obnoxious American— might say, I'm quite nimble. I carefully maneuvered myself over the gate's top. I hung myself there for a moment, and seeing no other option, I let myself drop to the ground.
Dammit my ankle! I swore loudly, but luckily my makeshift knife muffled it. I gingerly took a step and pain shot though my leg. I tested it a few more times... No good, I think I sprained it...
There was shouting coming from the tower and I sensed someone approaching me fast. I grabbed my makeshift knife and held it like a dagger. I forced myself to run, with my ankle screaming in protest. I stumbled one, twice. The creak of the Iron Gate opening spurred into a frenzied dash. No! I had to go, I had keep moving, I had to escape! Several yards beyond the gate was the forest. I pushed myself to go faster, and my ankle gave out. My arms scrapped against the rough forest floor. Dammit! Damn it all!
I firmly gripped my shard of glass and prepared to slash my pursuer, but before I could turn around something hard collided with the back of my head, sending me into darkness.
xxxx
I awoke to a throbbing headache and a new dress. It was identical to the previous one, my gloves had been replaced and the bed had been refurnished with new drapery. Bollocks. I gingerly touched my forearm, feeling some sort of bandage underneath, clinging to my skin. I must have fallen harder than I thought. Regrettably I had to keep the gloves on since I couldn't figure out how to remove them without agitating my injuries. I went on to inspect my ankle, which was now wrapped up along with the soles of my feet. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tried standing up. I stumbled over to the chair by the window and quickly sat down, my feet searing in pain. Walking was possible, but just barely. I saw by the foot of the bed what appeared to be a pair of white flats, and one had an ankle brace fitted to it. I stumbled back over and put them on, curious to see if they would help. I took yet another cautious step—dear God that was immensely better. With that little problem solved I took a few seconds to reassess the room. My heart fell when I saw that bars had now been fixated over the window's opening, crushing any future hopes for escape.
I growled some curses under my breath as I limped around the room, too irritated to stay still. I eventually decided on rummaging through the dresser on the far side of the room. I opened the first drawer to reveal a multitude of books neatly tucked in there. Worn spines indicated that these volumes had been well-loved by their owner—what the hell? ! These were my books! My copies of Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen... These were taken from my bloody house!
When I got my hands on him, I was going to kill that frog.
The remaining contents of the dresser proven useless in my quest for freedom. There was my embroidery kit—which I was happy to see—and several flashlights. Much to my chagrin, the bottom drawer contained a collection of more—how do I put this lightly... The more 'interesting' side of fiction.
I expect that damn Frenchman to return everything to where he found it.
Other than those items the dresser was empty. Begrudgingly I grabbed a random copy of Shakespeare and sat down in the chair. I flipped open to a random page and began reading:
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she...
Hmm... It's been a while since I've read Romeo and Juliet. Before I pressed forward in my text a slip of paper caught my eye from underneath the door. I hobbled over to it and picked it up after the door proved itself to be tightly locked.
What I had picked up was a simple piece of paper, folded over twice. I hastily revealed the message, my face contorting in disgust as I viewed it.
'Ah, mon Angleterre! You certainly are a clever one, no? I wasn't expecting you to escape the tower as soon as you did. Sadly, I can't let you leave so soon—Dieu, I sound like such a fiend! But have no fear, dear princess; your knight will be on his way in a few days time!
Fairest wishes,
Francis'
So he was behind all of this...
I wanted to be angry, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but the futility of it all crashed down on my as I let out a weak sigh and returned to my book. I hated it. I could barely believe that this was happening to me. I was forced to wait. I had to be rescued and loose all of my dignity in the process. Try as I may, I could not defy these stars. I began flipping through the book once more:
O! I am fortune's fool...
I couldn't help but agree.
xxxx
Third Person
xxxx
"Okay everyone! It 'appens tomorrow!"
"Ve, you actually got him in the tower? !"
"Oui, and 'e only got out once!"
"Now the onry thing to do is to rocate our knight, correct?"
A whisper of unease rumbled throughout the small group. "But how are ve going to alert him? If any of us vere to approach him, he'll know something vas up..."
"I am uncertain of that, Germany... We all know that America-kun has, erm..." Japan searched for a polite way to state his friend's idiocy, "...Trouble realizing certain things..."
France let out a chuckle, "Fear not, mon ami, I 'ave arrangements made!"
Italy clapped cheerfully, "Ve, we get to set up the Quest now, right?"
"But of course, who's in your group again?"
"Germany, Spain and Romano!"
The blonde flinched, "Are you sure that is going to be a productive group?"
Germany let out a sigh, "Ve'll get it done."
Japan leaned forward, "How about I assist them? Surery then we wirl get arl the necessary work done."
"Sounds like a plan," France shook his head humorously, "Phase two starts now."
xxxx
The Next Day...
xxxx
Ding-Dong!
America jolted up into a sitting position. He had fallen asleep on the couch... Again. After straightening his glasses he squinted at the clock on the wall.
Eleven-thirty.
"Shit!" He rolled off the couch and hastily stood up. He had overslept... Again.
Ding-Dong!
He dashed to the door while stifling a yawn, and opened it to see a very familiar face. "Mattie!" He exclaimed, "What brings you here?"
His Canadian twin let out a sigh as he assessed his brother's appearance, "You stayed up all night playing video games, didn't you?"
Peals of laughter echoed throughout the foyer, "You know me too well! C'mon in!" He walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Canada took a spot at the table, brushing a few McDonald's wrappers aside. His twin pulled two mugs out of a cabinet, "So what's up?"
"Um... There's a meeting in about an hour...?" The clatter of a shattering mug answered the Canadian, "You forgot," He concluded.
...Again.
Instantly the American sprinted upstairs to get ready. His brother simply shook his head as he pulled an envelope out of his pocket. He carefully placed it on the table before getting up to finish the coffee. Fifteen minutes later America flew back into the kitchen, haphazardly dressed in his suit. As he tried to straighten himself out Canada held out a cup of liquid caffeine while drinking one himself. They both downed the hot beverage and headed out the door.
"...By the way," Canada stated before getting into his car. "Some of your mail got sent to me again, I left it on the kitchen table..."
The more harrowed blonde paused, momentarily confused, "Huh? Oh okay, I'll have to check it out after the meeting then."
xxxx
"And as you can see here, there has been a slight drop in the overall GDP, resulting in..." America fought a small yawn that threatened to escape him as he listened to the presentation. Germany was doing his routine rant on the current state of the economy, and it was threatening to put half the world to sleep. America amused himself with seeing how the other nations were dealing with the incessant boredom. Poland was clearly texting someone, probably Lithuania, Japan was reading a manga in his lap, Greece was obviously asleep and England...
Was not there.
America blinked a few times in surprise. England never missed a meeting. Seeing the irritable Briton at a meeting was like saying the sky was blue: a permanent and irrefutable fact. The blonde glanced around the room once more, checking to see if the older man had decided to change his seat.
But England was nowhere to be found.
No one else seemed to notice the island nation's disappearance. America's brow creased in worry, where could he be?
The rest of the meeting's presentation dragged on and on into the far eternity of three 'o clock. The young blonde was restless, alternatively drumming his fingers against the top of the desk and tapping his feet until another country yelled for him to stop.
It was so unlike England to miss a meeting... What if something serious happened? Was he sick, injured... Or worse? Paranoia began plaguing the young blonde's mind. Surely someone would know if something truly awful had happened...
Time... Passed... Slowly...
Finally, finally, FINALLY the meeting was dismissed, and America was the first one out the door. He whipped out his cellphone and dialed England's number.
"The number you are calling is currently unavailable." Quickly he punched in the Briton's home phone. "Hello, you've reached Arthur Kirkland. I'm not home at the moment, but if you leave a message I'll try to get back to you as soon as possible." America quickly made his way to his car and climbed in. England doesn't ignore phone calls, nor is he the type to let calls just go to the answering machine. The anxious blonde put his car in drive and pulled out onto the road. He had to make sure that England was okay. He, as the hero, would see to that.
It was only about a thirty minute drive to the Briton's house, and America let out a sigh of relief when he saw a car in the driveway. The man had to be home. Leisurely the rambunctious American bounded up to the front door, ringing the doorbell twice.
A minute passed.
Then three.
And then five.
The doorbell was rung repeatedly; America knew how the older man hated that. He kept up the barrage for another two minutes before pounding on the door with his fist, "Yo England, open up!"
No response.
With a frustrated sigh the blonde reached under the mat and pulled out the spare key that England has always hidden there. It was a wonder that the man hadn't been robbed yet. With that though America yanked open the door, his panic returning. "England! England where are you? !" The house was dark and silent. "Arthur!" Each room was explored; each room was devoid of life. "ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!"
Silence.
America began to pace in the living room. Where was England? Where was he? ! This wasn't good... Not good at all... People just don't up and vanish without a single trace. The pacing continued, frenzied and panicked. America tried calling again, and again it said that the number was unavailable. He stormed out of the house and sped home, deciding that he was going to arrange a search party. He burst into his home and ran upstairs, quick changing into a white T-shirt and jeans, with his signature bomber jacket on top. He ran into his kitchen and grabbed the house phone—he had learned that people were more likely to answer if he called from that. Right before he began to dial his brother's number, he spotted an envelope on the kitchen table. Was this the mail Canada had told him about earlier? He couldn't explain why as he hung up the phone, but he felt compelled to check it out.
When he opened it a packet of photos spilled out onto the floor. "Crap..." He muttered aloud; he wasn't expecting the envelope to unfold when he opened it. He kneeled on the floor and began gathering all of the pictures together, but froze when he finally took a moment to look at one.
It was England.
He was sitting in a chair, and was staring out the window of what appeared to be a tower. The man had a saddened, wistful look on his face as he stared outside. And... England was... In a dress...? The pose seemed too natural, too relaxed for it to be a willing snapshot. Someone had to have taken it secretly. America began flipping through the many pictures: one showed England doing some embroidery; another showed him reading a book. One in particular caught the American's attention; it appeared to be about sunset judging by the photo's lighting and England was sleeping in that chair, his head tilted slightly back with a different book in his lap. He looked so soft and innocent in that pose, other than a small frown that played across his lips. Other than that he looked peaceful, with a certain air of vulnerability about him that tugged at America's heartstrings.
xxxx
America's Point of View
xxxx
Ah... Well... Damn.
Damn.
Who would've known that Iggy rocks the whole 'Damsel in Distress' look?
GAH! Wait, I mean—uh He looked great—I mean adorable—I mean... Damn.
I really should shut up now.
I could feel my cheeks turning red as I looked over each picture. England was just so... cute. There really was no other way of describing it. He just happened to look really good in a dress. I'm going to be honest; I spent at least fifteen minutes staring at those photos. Suddenly it hit me as I looked through the pictures again. In each one he was frowning, looking sad and miserable.
He was being held captive.
He needed to be rescued.
He needed a hero.
I picked up the envelope once more, looking for some sort of clue, 'cause—let's face it—there's always some kind of clue or message left for the hero. The envelope unfolded into a fancy piece of paper—I think England called it parchment. Anyhoo—just like I knew it would—it had this note written on it:
'Your princess it waiting for you.'
Princess, huh? I picked up the photos once more and yep, there was a tiara on his head. Ha, Princess Iggy... He's not going to hear the end of that anytime soon. Still, I could help but feel a twinge of anger. Someone had taken England against his will and put him in a tower and that ain't gonna fly. Everyone has a right to freedom and I—the hero—will see that England gets saved! I rushed out to my car and yanked the door open. I already had the key in the ignition before I realized something kinda important.
I have no idea where England's tower is.
I trudged back into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. Seeing no other option I quickly dialed Canada's number. He was the one who dropped off the message, so maybe he would know something about it. After a few seconds of ringing, he answered, "...Hello?"
"Hey Mattie!" I tried to sound pleasant, but even I could also tell that my voice was agitated. "I wanted to ask you about the mail you left for me..." I explained how England had been kidnapped—and deliberately leaving out the part about his dress.
"Are you sure you check the envelope thoroughly? There could be something else hidden there."
Huh?
Following my brother's advice I picked the envelope back up and looked it over intently. I didn't see anything until I held it up to the light. A series of numbers appeared to have been watermarked into the parchment. Whoever sent this, they clearly knew what they were doing.
"So did you find anything?"
"Yeah, I found a bunch of number... They kinda look like coordinates..."
Canada was silent for a few moments, "Maybe they're longitude and latitude? I'd try looking them up if I were you."
"Will do!" I replied enthusiastically while walking to my computer.
"Oh and Al?"
"Yeah?"
"Good luck."
I titled my head in confusion, "What do you mean—?" There was a distinctive click on the other end, he hung up on me! I set the phone down with an angry huff before turning my attention back to my computer and typed the coordinates into Google Maps.
What the...? !
It was a location about an hour's drive from my place, it the edge of a very large forest. A tower in the middle of a large forest and a princess in need of rescue... This is going to be fun. I printed out a copy of the map and headed out to my car. I started the car and saw my GPS on the dashboard.
Why didn't I think of using that in the first place? !
I let out a sigh, cursing my stupidity. I plugged in the coordinates once more and pulled out onto the road.
Don't worry Iggy; your hero is on his way!
xxxx
At one point I had to pull onto a dirt road and park in a field. At the other end was the beginning of the forest, so naturally I got out of my car and began running towards it. I stopped only when I heard the strangest thing. A guitar. Now why would someone be playing a guitar all the way out here? I searched for the source of the sound and found it about five yards into the woods, "Spain? !"
The Spaniard looked up to me, surprised, "¿Qué pasa?" He stood up and put his instrument off to the side. "What brings you here?"
I stared at him curiously, "I should be asking you the same thing..."
There was an awkward moment. Spain and I don't normally talk to one another. "So..." He scratched the back of his head, "You wouldn't happen to be looking for England, now would you?"
At that suggestion I grabbed the front of his shirt, holding his face inches from my own, "What do you know about England? ! Where is he? !"
"¡AY! Cálmate chico, ¡Cálmate!" He held his hands up in a defensive position, "I don't know! My hands are clean in this matter! I was just told by some stranger to wait here until someone came looking for Inglaterra!"
Oh.
I let him go quickly, "Uh... Sorry 'bout that..." I gotta stop jumping to conclusions...
"No te preocupes, but you are looking for him, sí?"
"Yeah, I am! He was kidnapped and—" Forced to cross-dress. I couldn't let that bit slip. England would kill me if I told anyone else about that. Spain didn't pay any mind to my cut-off as he led me deeper into the forest. Tied to a nearby tree there was a white stallion and a small chest.
"I was told to give these to whoever came searching for England." Spain walked over to the horse, "This here is César, he'll get you where you need to go."
But I haven't ridden a horse since... Hell, I couldn't remember when I last rode a horse! I turned my attention to the chest, "What's in there?"
"No sé, been waiting for you to open it." I rolled my eyes at the brunette's reply as I reached down and yanked it open.
Oh hell no.
There was a shirt of chain mail and a black tunic, along with a pair of matching traveling pants, an undershirt, boots, arm guards and a cape. At the very bottom was a sword.
"Do I have to wear these?"
Spain looked over my shoulder to the chest's contents, "I can imagine that you're going to need them." He poked me in the back, "I doubt that this jacket would protect you from much..."
Although I hated it, he had a point. So with I sigh I hefted the chest back to my car and changed there. I tossed my old clothes and the chest into the trunk of my car. While belting the sword to my waist I walked back to Spain, who now had a positively shit-eating grin on his face, "Do I look that stupid?" I sighed
"No chico, I just think that Inglaterra will be in for a very pleasant surprise!"
I tried to figure out what that meant while I mounted César. Why would England be surprised?
The Spaniard continued to smile, "Go, save your princess!"
I whipped around to face him, "How did you—? !"
No one was there.
And that was creepy as all hell.
"Okay then..." I looked at the horse. Sure it's been a while since I've ridden one, but I'm America. My cowboy days haven't left me completely.
I hope.
"Hiyah!" I dug my heels into the beast's sides, spurring him into a gallop. I figured that heading towards the heart of the forest would be my best bet. The villain always hides the princess away in the deepest part of the dungeon—forest in my case—and waits there for the hero to arrive. I had to admit, this was getting more exciting by the second. There I was—in hero's garb—riding on a white horse through a forest in order to save a princess. Think about it! The bravery and skill required! The glory and heroism as a reward!
This was gonna be so awesome!
Suddenly, someone jumped out in front on me, causing César to veer off to the side and skid to a halt, "Hey, watch it!" Two men were blocking my way, one taller and more buff than the other. They were both wearing masks, kinda like the ones you would see at a masquerade.
The taller one addressed me, "You cannot pass." I could have sworn that I heard his voice somewhere before, but I couldn't place it.
"Yeah, right, like you can stop the hero."
The shorter one spoke up, "Ve, but which way will you go?" I noticed that he had an odd curl sticking out from his mask. I still couldn't recognize him, though. I saw behind them that two distinct paths lay ahead of me.
Shit.
"Okay, can we just make things really easy for the hero and say which way is right?"
The tiny guard jumped up, "Ve, su—!"
"Nien!" The other shouted angrily, "In order to discover the right path you have to answer the riddle!"
"Ve, but the riddle's really hard!" The short guard whined, "We'll be waiting out here all day!"
"Oh come on, it's not that difficult!"
"Not for you! Germany's really smart and—"
"VERDAMMT ITALIEN VHAT DID I SAY ABOUT REVEALING OUR NAMES? !"
"Ah! I'm sorry!" The small guard pulled out a white flag, "Ve, I surrender!"
I have a feeling that I missed a very important clue right there. I continued to stare at them blankly until they stopped arguing (about what I'll never be sure). "So, um, a riddle you say?"
The taller let out a sigh, "Ja, if you can solve this riddle, you are one step closer to your princess—don't ask how we know!" He cut me off before I could demand information. "As you can see, there are two paths ahead of you, one leads to the tower—"
"And the other one leads to a big hole in the ground!"
"You're not supposed to tell him that!"
"Ve, sorry!"
The buff guard face-palmed, "Anyvay... There are two guards, both of vhich know the right path to choose," He indicated himself and the man next to him, "However, one of us speaks nothing but the truth, while the other tells naught but lies. You can ask one—and only one—question to one of the guards in order to figure out which path to choose. There is a single question that will answer this riddle, so ask carefully."
I dismounted my horse and began to pace. I like being on my feet when I'm trying to work things out. I'm positive that I had heard this riddle somewhere before... But where—?
Now I remember!
xxxx
"Ohonhon, very good, mon Angleterre, but can you figure out zis one?" France and England were having a typical battle of wits, and I was stuck as scorekeeper, "You are standing at a fork in ze road and next to each of ze two forks, zere stands a guard. You know the following things: First, one path leads to Paradise, and ze other to Death. From where you stand, you cannot tell zem apart. Even worse, once you start down a path, you cannot turn back. Second, one of ze two guards always tells the truth and ze other guard always lies. Unfortunately, it is impossible for you to distinguish between ze two guards, much like it is possible to distinguish the two paths—"
England let out a groan, "Get on with it, frog, I don't have all day to make you look like a bloody fool!"
France simply rolled his eyes and continued, "You 'ave permission to ask one guard one question to discover which path leads to Paradise. Remember zat you do not know which guard you're asking—ze truth-teller or ze liar—and zat zis single question determines whether you live or die—"
"Get on with it!"
"Ze question is: What one question asked of one guard guarantees zat you are led onto the path to Paradise, regardless of which guard you happen to ask?"
England scoffed, "Is that the best you got? That's easy; I'd ask one of the guards—"
xxxx
"If I asked the other guard which path was the right one, what would he say?"
The tall guard pointed to the path to the right, "Now how do you know that's the correct response?"
I grabbed the reigns and began steering my horse, "It's not." I made my way to the leftward path, "If you were the liar, you'd point to the wrong path because if you pointed to the left path—what the truth teller would have really said—you wouldn't be lying. But if you were the truth teller you'd be telling the truth by saying that the liar would point to the same wrong path."
He folded his arms, "Impressive, but I know you didn't figure that out on your own."
I shrugged, "I heard that one before."
"I knew that was too easy... I should have asked the one about the Drunken Warden..."
The other guard let out another whine, "Then we really would have been here all day!" He suddenly perked up, "Ve, now that we're done can we get some pasta! You promised that we could get pasta!"
"Ja, ja, ve'll go get pasta..." The taller guard then shouted, "Good luck vith your next trial!" As I spurred César back into a gallop.
"Thanks!" I called out over my shoulder. Such a strange pair...
And... I don't know why, but they vaguely reminded me of Germany and Italy.
Hmm... It's still really bright out, I'd wager it to be a bit after five 'o clock. I continued down the path until it led to a small clearing with a large... Cherry blossom tree? Why a cherry blossom tree—?
I wasn't allowed to pursue that thought as I was knocked off my horse. That fall probably would have been worse of I wasn't wearing the chain mail. Thank you Spain. In retaliation I pushed myself into a standing position and drew my sword. But there's just one little problem.
I have never been taught how to sword fight. Ever. England taught me how to shoot a gun, yes, but swords—never.
I was tackled again and I found a blade resting on my chest. I looked up to see that my attacker was dressed as a samurai and like the guards before him I couldn't see his face. That didn't stop him from being oddly familiar. "I have to fight you, don't I?" The samurai nodded and let me get up. "Look, I've never used a sword—"
"Then ret us hope you can learn quickry."
I had a feeling he was going to say that... I brought my weapon into what I assumed to be a fighter's stance and waited for the other man to attack me.
"Your first resson starts now!" He charged forward, our blades meeting in a collision of sparks. "Terl me, why are you journeying to the tower?"
I struck with my sword and he blocked—this was easier than I thought! "Because I'm the hero!" The fight was starting to gain speed... And it was getting kind of hard to keep up.
"Wrong!" With a few elegant strikes I was disarmed and knocked to the ground, "One never fights for himself! You must have a purpose!"
I didn't get it, "But I'm the hero, that is my purpose!"
"Wrong again!" The tip of the blade was dangerously close to my nose. "You must have a selfress purpose!" He backed away and let me get up again, "Who are you fighting for?"
I stared blankly at him for a moment. If I'm not fighting for the sake of being a hero, who am I fighting for? "England...?" I suggested carefully.
"Very good." The samurai replied, "Your second resson begins!" A flurry of steel attacked me, and I struggled to keep my defense up. This guy was good.
"Where is England? ! Why did you take him? !"
He paused, "I was not the one who took him. I was just asked to herlp you rearize something."
"Realize what?" I demanded. To say that I was confused was an understatement.
"Why are you fighting for Engrand?"
My sword fell limply to my side, "What do you mean by that?"
"You are fighting for his sake, but to say such a think in meaningless unless you know why."
Oh come on! I held my arms out to the sides, "Dude, I don't know!"
"Wrong answer!" I landed flat on my back. "Think! There is arways a deeper meeting."
I let out a sigh as I got up get again, "...You've lost me."
The samurai shook his head and sheathed his sword. He then removed his freaky looking helmet and held it under his arm.
"Japan? !" I did not see that one coming.
He nodded, "There is a reason why you been brought here, just as I have a reason for fighting you now." He walked towards the cherry blossom tree. "I was originarry asked to save Engrand... But I had the message forwarded to you."
I took a step after him, "Really? ...Why?"
"Because I knew it wourd mean so much more to you than it wourd to me."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
Pink tinged my friend's cheeks as he spoke, "I have noticed a certain... Closeness between you and Engrand-san. There is something different about you two, but you refuse to acknowledge it..."
Different? Now that he mentioned it, things have changed a bit... We talk more; things seem warmer, England smiles more often. I wonder if anyone's told him that he has a really nice smile—
My God... I think I actually get it.
The ground suddenly had gotten a lot closer. I had fallen to my knees in shock. "It's because I'm in love him, isn't it?" That explains everything... The tenderness in which we regard each other, my paranoia at his disappearance, the profound effect of those photos... It all made sense now.
Japan smiled, "That is what I was to herlp you rearize," He pointed towards the forest, "Now go, your princess awaits."
I quickly got up and remounted César, who was off—doing whatever the hell horses do when their riders are fighting samurais. "You like the pictures too?"
The blush of pink returned to the Asian man's face, "That dress... It is very... becoming, shall we say?"
"What's that mean?"
"He rooks good."
"Agreed," I said goodbye and set off once more. A new kind of energy pushed me forward. I found myself not wanting to be a hero, but England's hero. And the hero always saved his princess, so this was going to work out perfectly.
I spurred César to go faster; I had a quest to finish.
xxxx
I'm lost.
I'm pretty sure I passed by that one stump at least three times... And I'm lost. I've been traveling for at least an hour and I'm pretty damn sure that this isn't the right way.
I'm lost.
Fuck.
I pulled César over to a small pond and let him take a break. I looked around to try and find some sort of hint as to find the right direction. "You know, now would be a very good time for one of those riddle-things! I could use some help here!"
In response, someone jumped down from a nearby tree, "You called?"
Again with the mask... Seriously what's up with these people? This guy even had a curl too, but on the opposite side than the small guard from earlier. I pointed to the tree, "Um, how long have you been up there?"
"None of your business!" He snapped, "So do you want this damn riddle or not?"
"Bring it."
He let out a long sigh, "Okay, what's green and red and good to eat?"
What kind of riddle is that? ! "Er... A watermelon?"
"No," The man—he just seemed to have a very grumpy disposition—folded his arms. "It's green on top and red on the bottom."
"...Strawberry?"
He let out an angry growl, "NO! It's a vegetable!"
I scratched my head, "A... Chili Pepper...?"
He sighed dramatically and threw his arms up in defeat, "You know what?" He brought César over to me, "Get on your horse."
"But I haven't answered the—"
"GET ON THE DAMN HORSE!"
I followed the command. The angry man grabbed the reins and pointed César in a specific direction, "Head this way, you'll hit the tower sooner or later." He shook his head as if he was tired, "I'm outta here..." He raised his voice, "Oi bastard! I'm done! Where are my fucking tomatoes? !"
I turned around to look at him, "Was that the answer?"
"No... It was the fucking strawberries!"
I frowned at the response; this guy was kinda starting to harsh my heroic mood. I spurred my horse into a gallop once more.
Hopefully the tower was close.
xxxx
I was riding for about another twenty minutes before I got my first glimpse of the tower. The forest opened up into a large clearing which revealed said tower surrounded by a tall fence. Whoever took England put a lot of thought into this. I also noticed that there was a knight, clad in rather ominous looking armor, blocking the gate.
Looks like I gotta fight him too. And he doesn't look as friendly as Japan... But a hero never runs from a fight! I dismounted César and drew my sword, trying to look cool and heroic. "Alright, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." This knight did not seem like he wanted to negotiate, "Okay then..." I readied my weapon, "So we're gonna do this the hard way?"
"...Welcome to the trial of the Unknown Soldier..." The guy's voice echoed oddly in his helm. He sounded like he's rather not be there. "...If you cannot figure out my identity, you will never be able to save your princess..."
That's it? Sounds like a stupid trial if you ask me... I'll just keep guessing until I get it right then, simple. The Soldier suddenly pulled out a sword and charged towards me. So I'm supposed to fight him and figure out his name at the same time? ! I can't multitask like that! That's so not fair!
Luckily for me this guy seemed to have the same amount of experience as me—meaning none—so we were pretty evenly matched. Well, okay he knew the basics better than I did, I'll give him that. It was kind of sad... all I was doing was visualizing the swordfights from The Lord of The Rings and trying to replicate that in some way. Why did it have to be swords and medieval stuff? Why couldn't we have a good old-fashioned Western Shoot Out? Now those I know how to win. Oh well, if it was for Iggy, I'd fight just about anything with I sword if I had to.
Now came the annoying part of this trial: actually finding out this bastard's name!
"Am I allowed to ask questions to help me figure out who you are?"
"...I can't see why not..."
"Are you someone I know?"
"...Yes."
"So you're a nation?" I dodged one particularly skillful strike and landed against the gate.
The soldier brought down his blade, and I rolled out of the way. His attack actually snapped the chains on the gate, and one creaked open, "...Yes."
I saw and open and darted inside, there was a single path lined with cheery blossom trees—I guess Japan was responsible for those—that lead to the door of the tower. The soldier charged in after me, and we began duking it out in the courtyard. I struggled to find a definitive question—something that would really narrow down my options.
"Are you one of the Nordics?"
"...It's debatable..."
I rolled my eyes at the answer, "Gee, that was helpful!"
"...Who said I was trying to be helpful? !"
This was getting me nowhere... C'mon... A really good question... I needed really, really good question... I apparently knew this guy and he was a nation...
"Are you from Europe?"
"...No."
Bingo! That eliminated almost all of the people I know! Wait so who did that leave me with...? Unfortunately I physically paused to contemplate that question, leaving me open to a kick in the stomach. Fuck you too. I fell backwards and was met with a blade at my throat. This guy meant business. From the slit in his helmet I saw two blue eyes flash in a nervous sort of anticipation.
Wait... Blue eyes, not European, and the trial of identity...
"Mattie!" I laughed. "You Canadian bastard!"
Though I couldn't see it, I could tell my brother was smiling as he sheathed his sword and walked away.
"...Congrats, you've completed your quest, now go get your princess..."
I scrambled into a standing position and tore down that path. My adorable little Briton was within reach, and I was finally about to be his hero.
xxxx
England's Point of View
xxxx
A crash and a curious creaking noise forced me to look up from my embroidery and glare at the window. What in God's name was that? ! Hm... Probably some hooligans messing around in the forest—WAIT ONE BLOODY MINUTE!
Someone was out there! Out there! In the forest! Just beyond this God awful tower!
My spirit soared as I recognized another chance for escape, I would get the attention of this someone and they would kindly help me out of this predicament. I rushed over to the window in order to see what was going on. The gate was opened! Bloody hell, I can't believe my luck! I scanned the courtyard, trying to catch a glimpse of my rescuer. There were two men darting about the field below... And I could hear the distinct ring of blade upon steel.
...What was going on down there?
I tried shouting to get their attention, but with no avail. They were too absorbed in their duel to notice me. I tried to identify the two combatants. One was covered completely in grey armor, so it was impossible to tell. The other...
Oh no...
No, no, no, no, no...
It's not him, it can't be him.
What the hell does he think he's doing? !
I can't believe he would do something as stupid as to—
Worry pooled into my stomach, overriding all of my senses... He's going to get himself killed!
Somehow, America had found me. He was dressed in the kind of outfit only intrepid adventurers would wear on a daring journey... Or what a humble knight would wear to save a trapped princess... Bloody hell, he was sent to rescue me. America was sent to rescue me. I gripped the edge of the window and I began to hyperventilate.
That git was in a swordfight—something I knew he wouldn't fair well in—and he was risking his life for... Me? I'm not ungrateful, but I don't—If he gets injured I'll never forgive myself... He may be idiotic and act like a total ingrate, but that does not change the fact that I... have fond feelings for the git. That and the fact he looks smashing in a tunic.
I didn't want to watch him fight, but I could not bring myself to look away. I watched him get disarmed, knocked down, and I saw his opponent prepare for the kill. In that moment—that single moment—I saw my entire world crumble. Alfred was going to die, and I had to sand here idle and watch.
But then that bastard knight picked up and bloody walked away!
I was certain that blood was going to be shed and that America was... I didn't even want to think of that anymore... To say that I was emotional was a grand understatement. I watched America stand up and start running toward the tower—towards me. I was in shock as I heard a sudden rattling at the door before it flew open. Slowly, I turned around to face my savior.
My God...
xxxx
Third Person
xxxx
They spent the longest moment simply staring at each other. Eventually England, fully realizing the situation, blushed a bright red and turned away. America approached him cautiously, "Hey... Are you okay?"
The nostalgia of the phrase nearly brought the Briton to tears, "Oh sure, I'm fine..." Sarcasm dripped from his voice, "I've only been held against my will for the past forty-eight hours, forced to wear this—" He tugged at the skirt of his gown, "Been utterly disgraced and humiliated, and worst of all I had to watch you fight for me!" He folded his arms, "I never taught you had to use a sword, and I regretted that from the very moment you and that other knight crossed blades..." His voice edged towards hysteria, "Do you have any idea how worried I was? ! You nearly gave me a heart attack when I saw you fall!" His shoulders shook, fighting the emotion that threatened to drip down his cheeks, "Y-You're an idiot and a f-fool...! You shouldn't h-have gone to such l-lengths to try and save m-me..."
"Arthur..." America walked over and wrapped his arms around the other man's waist, and rested his head on England's shoulder, "Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
The Briton's red blush deepened at the intimacy of the embrace as he spun around and shoved the younger nation away, "W-What on earth are you talking about? ! And don't touch me!"
America let out a chuckle, "When I didn't see you at the meeting, I went into a total panic. I called your phone, checked your house—heck, I was on the verge of arranging a search party before I found that note."
"What note? !"
"The note with the coordinates of this place on it, plus it had a bunch of pictures of you with it—"
"Excuse me? !" If possible, England turned redder. He sat down on the edge of his bed, the anger and embarrassment deflating from him. Now there was only a sense of despair as he spoke, "...I'll never live this down... That damn frog has probably shown them to everyone already..." He buried his head in his hands, "I'll be the laughing stock of the entire bloody world..."
America frowned and sat down next to the older blonde, "Well... There is one upside to this."
"And what's that? !" England demanded bitterly as he looked up to meet sky blue eyes.
"You look beautiful."
The blush returned with full force and England forced himself to look away again, "Don't lie, I look ridiculous..."
"No, I'm serious!" America stood up, pulling the other man with him. "Arthur, you look..." The words died in his throat as he stared at the man before him, "You... Erm, you look..." His face flushed as well, "I... England, you..." He shook his head, "Dammit!" Quickly he grabbed the Briton's shoulders and brought their lips together. It was soft and sweet and completely spontaneous. England's eyes widened in surprise and stared at America in blank shock when he was released.
There was a moment of silence "What just...? Why did you...?" The man was utterly dumbstruck, "You kissed me," He stated after gaping at the American for several seconds.
Said blonde grinned sheepishly, "I couldn't think of anyway to describe how you looked so... Yeah, I kissed you..." He let out a quiet sigh, "When I started off into the forest, all I could think about was how much of a hero I was gonna be when I saved you, but somewhere along the way I started think less about the hero stuff and more about saving you..." He clasped one of England's hands between his, "And I realized that you..." Embarrassment made the rest come out in a garbled rush, "MeanalottomeandIkindalikeyou."
"Um... What?" The older man titled his head.
America wrapped one arm around England and pulled him close, "You... Mean a lot to me... And I lik—" He cut himself off. No, that wasn't the right word to use. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and with as much eloquence as a hero could muster he whispered the following three words:
"I love you..."
The floodgates finally opened as England began to cry on the younger man's shoulder. The young blonde began panicking, "Gah! D-Did I say something wrong? ! Please don't be upset!" Was he being rejected?
"N-No, you g-git!" England pulled himself away and revealed a smiling face. One gloved hand raised and brushed away a few tears, "I-I've been waiting for you to say that and... Y-You git!" He playfully shoved the other, "God I sound like a bloody woman..."
America smiled in return, "No, you sound like my Iggy."
The island nation blushed again, "Git..." He muttered affectionately.
"You want to go home now?"
"Please! I never want to see this tower again!"
"Well then allow me," America swept the older man off his feet so that he was being carried bridal style, "To assist you, dear princess."
"PUT ME DOWN!"
"Not on your life, my dear." The American smirked as he descended the steps of the tower with his damsel in tow. "So tell me, how did you end up this way?"
England rolled his eyes, "How do you think I did?"
"So I'm guessing I'll be kicking France's ass tomorrow?"
"You better be."
They exited the doors of the tower and England was set down. America bowed ostentatiously towards him while extending a hand, "Fairest Iggy, would you do this knight an honor and accompany him to his noble steed?"
The older man began to walk down the path towards the gate, "Call me that again and we'll see who's better with a sword."
"That's harsh!" America straightened up, "H-Hey, I didn't mean it, wait!" England hiked up his skirt and ran towards the open gate, letting out a laugh as he heard his knight pick up the pace. The American easily caught up and again the Briton was swept off his feet. "You're not going anywhere without me, okay?"
England reached up and pecked America on the cheek, "Wouldn't dream of it," He replied with a teasing sort of sarcasm. Together they walked over to César and climbed on. "You know, I'm surprised that this poor creature can carry your weight."
"I can always leave you here, you know that?"
"But you won't," The Briton hugged America from behind, "A true hero would never do that."
The young blonde rolled his eyes, "You're right... Hiyah!" He spurred his steed into motion and began the journey back. "Hey, isn't that the direction of the sunset?" The sky was transitioning to a deep orange-red ahead of them and a ball of yellow could barely be made out admits all of the branches.
"I... I think so..." England leaned to the side to try and get a better look, "I mean, it should be."
America felt another smile spreading wide across his face, "So shall we ride off into it then, my princess?"
The Briton rolled his eyes, "But of course." The taller man twisted around to capture his love's lips once more before urging their horse to gallop forward.
And so they rode... Off into the sunset. How cliché, but it was an undeniably endearing sort of cliché. Happily they rode off, and thus our story ends. So, you're probably wondering if they lived happily ever after—just like every other Fairytale.
Well, for the sake of simplicity, you can gladly say they did.
Fin
So that's that! I know the ending is a bit odd and rushed, but I had a deadline... and I'm too lazy to go back a fix things, lol...
Reviews are appreciated, especially if you plan of Fav-ing!