Posting one of my kink meme fills here. It's totally PG now, (maybe PG-13, for Arthur's potty mouth and mentions of nekkidness...) but it will most likely become a nice hard R later on.... it IS a kink meme fill after all....
The original request is here: http :// hetalia-kink. livejournal. com /13125. html? thread=32287045#t32287045 (Just remove the spaces....)
I suppose this counts as de-anoning. Which is funny to think about, as the story isn't even done yet.
The rest will come shortly. (Probably...) I still have almost a week off from school, an I'm trying to finish it before I go back, as it will be much harder to work on it when I do... anyway, enjoy!
Also, I'd like to point out that the plot of this fic was heavily influenced by the book 'Dragon's Bait' by Vivian Vande Velde. This first part draws a lot of influence form it (as well as the fic's name), but the next part will probably be less inclined toward that plot, and more toward the smut... Or will it? What would you guys prefer? A bit of Action and adventure? Or straight to the smut? I'd honestly like to know. Comment your answers! Please?
~Dragon's Bait~
Part 1
The day Arthur was accused of being a witch started out like any other.
He blearily awoke form a dreamless sleep, and rolled off of his bed to begin his day's chores. Fetch some water, put a loaf of bread in the oven, gather herbs from the mountain. Everything was going along swimmingly. Not a hair was out of place in his daily routine. Until a stranger came knocking at his door.
The village of Hetalia where Arthur lived was just small enough so that everyone knew everyone else, so it as not often that there were strangers in town. After all, Hetalia was not in the remotest way interesting, so it never attracted any tourists. When a stranger did come into town, it was big news.
Arthur was in the middle of preparing his breakfast when he heard the knock. Odd. he thought, Who would come all of the way out there to see me? Arthur lived alone on the outskirts of the village, near the forest. He had always been a solitary sort of person, as had his parents before him. He continued to inhabit their home, even after his parents had died, and had set himself up as an apothecary, making herbal remedies for the people of the town. (It wasn't a flourishing profession, but at least he didn't starve...)
Arthur opened his door to reveal the tallest man that he was sure he'd ever seen. The stranger stared down at him over his long scarf (surely he couldn't be cold, it was nearly getting to be summer...) The smile that adorned his lips did not match his cold eyes. Arthur was usually not one to judge on appearance alone, but there was just something not right about this man.
"Are you Arthur, the town's herbal practitioner?" he asked, though Arthur could already tell that he probably already knew the answer to his question. Behind the larger man stood three shorter men. One had shoulder length brown hair, the second had short bland hair and was holding a large dusty tome, the third was a small boy, probably no older than 14, shaking in his boots so badly that Arthur thought that he might faint dead away. He sent an inquisitive glare toward the four of them, before replying. "I'm Arthur, yes."
"I am Inquisitor Ivan of Kiev." The stranger said. Arthur had heard of Keiv. It was a grand city a few days journey from here, and a major religious center of the neighboring kingdom. The stranger spoke before Arthur could comment. "You have been charged with witchcraft, and it is my duty to prove that." The already insincere smile broadened. "Or disprove it, if the evidence so warrants."
"Witch- witchcraft?" Arthur didn't know what to say. "I... I mean... what?" his mind was blank. Witchcraft? HIM?
"You are to come with me now." the Inquisitor told him.
Arthur knew he was not a witch, er... warlock, and would therefore be proven innocent. Still, fear began to overtake him when the giant of a man took hold of his arm, none too gently. "But... but I..."
The man's smile widened as his fingers dug into Arthur's arm. "You will come with me."
He knew right then and there, that this man would never find him innocent. The sadistic gleam in his eyes told him as much. "No!" he cried, trying to free himself. This was utterly ridiculous! He was no witch!
The Inquisitor practically dragged him from his house. "Toris! Take hold of him!" he commanded the man with the brown hair. The man responded by cringing slightly, and then taking hold of Arthur's other arm. "I'm sorry..." he heard the man whisper quietly into his ear. The two began to drag him toward town. Eventually, Arthur stopped struggling and allowed himself to be lead to the town's square.
By the time they reached the town's center, a rather large crowd had gathered. "This will do for a court. Tie him up." Inquisitor Ivan called to his subordinates. The man with brown hair and the small shaking boy bound his wrists behind his back, both sending him small apologetic looks. "Gather those who will testify." Ivan called to the remaining man, the one holding the large book.
If there were any citizens not already gathered in the square, they were certainly here now. Arthur heard many indistinct whispers and questions. "What's going on mama?" he heard a child ask, only to be hushed quickly by it's mother. The words 'witchcraft' and 'warlock' floated among the crowd. Arthur had known these people all of his 16 years. Did they seriously thing that he was capable of dark magic? He was a simple young man, his only real worth in his knowledge of herbs.
"I will testify." came a voice from the crowd. Arthur knew that voice, although he wished that he didn't. Sure enough, Francis, his long time neighbor and constant source of discomfort stepped forward. "I saw him. He was supposedly gathering herbs in the forest, but in truth, he was really committing animal sacrifices to his satanic overlord! He drank a chicken's blood before my very eyes!" he finished with a dramatic flourish.
Francis, damn him! It all made sense now! Francis had set him up so that he could claim Arthur's land! He had gotten royally pissed when Arthur wouldn't sell to him. The bastard just wanted the timber on his land for his carpentry business. But there was no way that Arthur would let him have that land! It was his family's land, and had been for generations. But, if Arthur was found guilty of witchcraft, he would loose all rights to his land, and Francis could swoop in and take it from him.
"I saw him too!" cried Francis' friend Antonio. "He's never liked me, you know..." Antonio said, attempting to elicit pity from the townsfolk. 'It's no wonder I never liked you, you bastard!' Arthur thought. 'Always picking on me!' Antonio continued, oblivious to Arthur's thoughts "He was walking through town late at night. He stopped in front of Vash's house. He checked to see if anyone was watching, but did not see me because I was tending my tomatoes. (The hell were you doing tending your tomatoes -at night-? Arthur thought to himself.) I saw him make a sign with his hand, and mutter something, then he spit on the ground. That very next day, Vash's prize goat stopped producing milk!" This elicited a gasp from the crowd.
"I did no such thing!" Arthur cried, struggling against his bindings.
"Gag him!" the Inquisitor commanded.
"No! NO!" Arthur cried, but it was useless. The brown haired man had already placed a strip of cloth over his mouth.
"Where is this Vash that he speaks of?" Ivan inquired.
"I'm here." came Vash's reply.
"Has your goat gone dry?" he asked.
"Yes, it has. But-"
"And it was a good milker before?"
"Yes, but-"
"I have heard enough evidence." Ivan said, cutting off Vash's testimony.
Some kind of trial this was! It seemed that none of the townsfolk were willing to speak up on his behalf. Arthur's own solitary nature seemed to be backfiring on him. The citizens of Hetalia were whispering amongst themselves. Did they seriously believe that Arthur could be capable of such things?!?!
"Do we burn him at the steak now?" another of Francis' friends, Gilbert, asked eagerly. Francis elbowed him in the ribs. Burn him... was this really happening?
Inquisitor Ivan was shaking his head. "We can solve two problems at once. A dragon has been terrorizing the villages north of here. It is a small dragon, as dragons go, feeding mostly on sheep and the occasional cow. Perhaps a... small token of respect will prevent it from attacking the villagers themselves." he glanced at Arthur, that disturbing smile growing ever wider.
Dragon? Arthur's mind raced. His knees gave out from underneath him, but he quickly hoisted up again by the cold hands of the Inquisitor. "Bring a cart to transport him!" he bellowed.
'I will not beg for my life.' Arthur resolved. 'And I will not let them see me cry.'
And once again the Inquisitor smiled down at him.
It was dusk by the time the parade of villagers finally stopped in the wide valley where Arthur was to meet his judgment.
It was also raining.
Despite his bleak mood and the lousy weather, Arthur could see clear signs of a dragon. Arthur had never seen a dragon, nor met anyone who had seen a dragon, nor heard of a dragon in these parts in his lifetime, but the evidence of a dragon's presence was obvious. The farms closest to the base of the mountain were either charred to a crisp or smashed to bits. There were scorch marks everywhere, and there were deep gashes in the rock of the mountain side, gashes that could have only been made by dragon's claws. The horses pulling the cart kept rearing back, and one could tell by the looks in their eyes that there was something to be feared out there.
Arthur turned his thoughts away from dragons and tried to look composed. He was resolute to not give them the satisfaction of his tears. He would remain cold, as they were cold toward his plight, as the rain was cold as it drenched him to the core. He thought of how he should be home now, sitting by his fire and mending his clothes, his needle moving rapidly through the fabric... this wasn't helping. He was only making himself more depressed.
Some of the men dug a hole, and then propped a large pole upright in it, trampling down the mud to keep it vertical. The inquisitor pulled him roughly from the cart, too roughly, as Arthur was not resisting. They did not bother to untie his hands. Just fastened him to a pole with another length of rope.
The inquisitor looked down over his scarf at Arthur, his eyes full of gleeful malice. He bent down, so his face was level with Arthur's. "Do not let sin rule you any longer." he began "Resist the temptation of devils and their flesh. Evil can have no hold over you if you do not allow it." he straightened, and turned to address the crowd. "May your body be freed from it's sins, and be reborn!" Then, he said quietly over his shoulder, his smile inhumanly wide, "May God forgive you."
They placed several torches in the ground surrounding him, so that the dragon would have no problem finding him. When Ivan retreated, the villagers followed, lest they too become food for the hungry dragon. He watched them depart, and soon they were nothing but distant memories amidst the pounding rain.
I wish I cold have left them with a nice curse. Arthur thought. Something that would have kept them up at night. But Arthur didn't know any curses, and anyway, it was too late now.
He shifted until he found a position where none of the rough spots of the log dug into his back.
At least he was alone, and for a time, that was a comfort. But then when he tried to remember the small cottage in which he lived, in which he grew up, he found that he could not form a clear picture of it in his head. He tried to remember his parent's faces, but they too eluded him. It seemed the harder that he concentrated on remembering something, the farther it slipped away, until he could no longer remember his mother's smile, or the forests in which he played as a child.
Then, with no one to witness, he finally cried.
Eventually, the rain stopped. Arthur caught a glimpse of the almost full moon from between the scattered cloud cover.
How, exactly would the dragon kill him? He thought that if perhaps he figured that out, then he might not be as terrified. Perhaps it would incinerate him in a blast of flame? Not very likely, he decided. He was aware that dragons often asked for young maidens . If there were just going to incinerate their victims, then why would they care about age, or gender, or...
Arthur froze. What had the Inquisitor said about Sin and Lust? Surely the dragon didn't ask for maidens because... He blushed. Well, he thought to himself, I'm not a woman, so I probably have nothing to worry about in that respect...
But, then again, Francis WAS always trying to get Arthur into his bed. Not that Francis and a dragon were on the same level, though, he wasn't so sure of that anymore. And, despite Francis' best attempts, (and Arthur's attempts as well, to woo the village maidens) he was a virgin.
He gulped, rater audibly, and began to seriously worry about his future. He could handle being eaten, or burned in a blast of flame. But to become a dragon's plaything...
No. This was ridiculous! No dragon, no matter HOW desperate, would ever view Arthur as anything as more than a meal. Yes, he was sure of it. The dragon would most assuredly eat him. He could only hope that it would be quick.
I would be fast, he assured himself. He'd seen the claw marks on the stone, and the trees that it had leveled. This dragon must have been huge. Monstrous! Arthur probably wouldn't even make a decent appetizer for it.
In the distance, a wolf howled.
Arthur began to panic. A dragon was bad enough, but now wolves? Wolves would most certainly NOT eat him quickly. He struggled against his bindings and found that were not as taught as he has assumed them to be. He tried to remember who had tied him to the post. Ah, it was Feliciano. A good lad, but rather useless.
Arthur gave the ropes a few good tugs before they fell away from his frame. Now freed from the pole, he worked on getting his hands loose. To his surprise, he found that the ropes binding his hands were also rather loose. He thought back to the apologetic looks that the two Inquisitor's subordinates had given him when they tied him up. Bless them. They had left the ropes loose on purpose. Arthur freed his hands, and then promptly removed the gag from his mouth.
He did it! He was free! Arthur's glee lasted only momentarily before he realized that, while he may have have escaped, he had nowhere to run. He couldn't go back to Hetalia. They'd just bring him right back here and tie him up again. Or worse, make sure to finish the job. He knew he couldn't go to any of the nearby villages. True, he did have a trade, but, as this incident showed him, it was not a very popular one. How long would he be in the next village before the same thing happened? Or someone from Hetalia passed though that village and outed him?
As the hopelessness of the situation overcame him, he sank down to the muddy ground and curled his knees to his chest. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to cry again.
And that's when the dragon came.
Arthur's first inclination was to run for cover, hope that the dragon hadn't seen him. It was difficult to tell how high the creature was, but from where he sat, he could see that it was indeed rather large. It's powerful limbs were tucked underneath it, much like a bird does when in flight. It's wings stretched out into the open and now clear night sky. He could feel the beat of the wings, displacing air as they flapped harder, propelling the beast through the air. Arthur noticed that it had a mane, which was a detail that he couldn't ever remember hearing about.
Then he realized that the dragon, in fact, hadn't seen him. If he just stayed still a few moments longer, then he was free. But he was soaked through to the bone with cold, and hadn't eaten anything in over a day, and he had absolutely nowhere to go. And then he remembered the wolves.
As he saw it, he had two choices. Die quick, or die slow.
He chose quick.
He stood, and flung a rock in the dragon's direction. "You ruddy dragon!" he screamed. "Come and get me!!!"
His cramped muscles (which weren't much to speak of even when he was well fed and not freezing to the bone after being tied to a pole for hours) didn't get the rock even remotely close to the dragon. But his shout, or his movements, or something must have attracted the dragon's attention, because it curved it's wings and swooped down toward Arthur.
Maybe not the wisest of decisions. He thought. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the dragon's jaws. He felt it's wings flap as it circled overhead, perhaps suspecting a trap. Then it landed before him, and Arthur braced himself.... braced....
He stood there, stiff as a board, expecting to be encased in flames, or viciously torn apart by powerful jaws. Carefully, he opened his eyes, just a crack.
What he saw when he opened them was the dragon's kneecap.
Arthur was flabbergasted. He had expected the dragon to be big, but this was... He tipped his head, back... back...... back...........
The dragon leered down at him from an impossible height.
"Well, get on with it." He said "Go ahead, kill me."
But the dragon merely cocked it's head to the side. Arthur was surprised by the fact that it did not smell of sulfur, something that he'd always heard about dragons. No, this dragon smelled like... a wide open meadow on a spring day, covered in new grass and young flowers.
Arthur thought back to earlier. He recalled the faces of his neighbors as they tied him to a stake, offering him up to this very same dragon. The misery and despair that he now had to suffer through. The fact that he would probably soon be nothing more than a spot of indigestion for this dragon.
He kicked the dragon's foot. The impact made his toes sting.
The dragon looked at him again, as if it was considering... something.
So this wasn't going to be quick after all. The dragon was going to play with him. He should have chosen the wolves when he had the chance. He covered his face with his hands and sank to the ground. He had so wanted to be brave, even if he was the only one who'd know it, and there he was sobbing and laughing at the same time, about to die with his ass in the mud.
Above him, he heard the dragon shifting. This is it! he thought frantically. He jumped as something brushed his hand. I'm sorry! he apologized to no one. He apologized for all the times that he hadn't been nice to the other children in the village, all the times he'd tried to slip Francis herbs to make him lose all of his precious hair. (Well, maybe he wasn't as sorry for that one...) All the times he... he... just what was taking this stupid dragon so long?
Just as he was working up the courage to open up his eyes, he realized that there were hands tugging at his hands, trying to uncover his face.
Hands. Not claws.
Arthur gasped, opening his eyes and dropping his hands at the same time.
A young man, looking perhaps a year or two older than him, crouched before him. His hands still on Arthur's hands.
There was no sign of the dragon.
Briefly, Arthur wondered if perhaps there had been some dragon slaying prince who'd... but there'd been no time for that.
He looked at the young man once again, and wondered how he could have ever mistaken him for human.
The thing that was most obviously wrong were the eyes. The color was that of the sapphires that adjourned the crucifix worn by the Inquisitor. "It's a small dragon." he recalled him saying. No wonder. If this human manifestation was any indication, this dragon wasn't fully adult yet. It gave Arthur a twisted sort of satisfaction to think of the all the trouble that this dragon would give the people of Hetalia when it was full grown, even if he wouldn't be around to see it.
By the light of the torches he saw that his hair was same color that his mane had been, a striking gold, and was more or less the same length as Arthur's own hair. Arthur jerked his gaze back up to his face, because he suddenly -finally- realized that the dragon-man wasn't wearing any clothes.
For the first time, those blue eyes flickered with emotion. Amusement. He'd seen Arthur's discomfort, and recognized the cause.
"I didn't know," Arthur said to say something. "That dragons could take human shape." He tried to pry his hands away from the dragon's. It's hands felt so remarkably human. The texture, the warmth, everything was as it should be, but...
"Only golden dragons posses magic." he said in a voice that was soft and husky and all too human.
"Oh." was all Arthur could come up with in reply.
The dragon refused to release Arthur's hands until he looked at him again. He smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "It's not often," he began, "that I find damsels flinging rocks at me."
Da- damsel?!? Arthur may not have been the masculine of men, but he was certainly no damsel! Finally, all of Arthur's fears, and pain, and frustrations boiled up to the surface, and he finally, after the most trying day of his life, exploded. He stood, and shouted at the dragon with every ounce of force he could muster from his tired, exhausted frame.
"You stupid bloody dragon! How dare you call me a damsel! I'm no weeping sodding maiden in distress! I'm Arthur of Hetalia, and I'll not kowtow to you or anyone else for that matter! Now stop mucking about and just EAT ME ALREADY!!!"
There. He'd done it. He gave that dragon a piece of his mind. And now, he braced for the final blow that he was certain to come. He waited, and waited... and waited.....
Then he heard the dragon make a noise. Finally. I can be done with this whole mess. He assured himself. He found that instead of feeling terror or dread, he felt... relieved. He'd just wish that the dragon would hurry up and finish him off so that he could get on with his happy afterlife.
The noise that the dragon-man was making grew ever louder. And then Arthur finally recognized what it was. Laughter. He opened his eyes and sure enough, there was the dragon, his hands covering his mouth in an attempt to stifle his growing guffawing.
"You... you... don't you mock me! You... DRAGON!" Arthur shouted again, waving his finger toward the dragon's shaking frame. It was then that the dragon lost it, and didn't even try to stifle his laughter. He laughed loudly, throwing his head back, clutching his stomach. The nerve of him!
"I'm sorry." the dragon apologized, after his laughter had subsided a bit. He looked at Arthur through his tear-streaked eyes. "I didn't mean to laugh so hard, I just-" his statement was cut off by another fit of laughter. Arthur huffed, and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Really." he berated "You certainly don't act like a proper dragon!"
"And you certainly don't act like a 'proper' victim." the dragon retorted.
Touché.
"So," the dragon began, now sufficiently calm from his giggle fit. "Just what is a 'proper dragon' supposed to act like?" he queried.
Arthur stuttered, his rage subsiding. "Well," he began, "You're supposed to..." he trailed off. He was severely distracted by the dragon's lack of clothing. And apparent lack of modesty. He blushed heavily, turning his head away. The dragon's nakedness suddenly reminded him of Inquisitor Ivan's words. "Why-" he began to ask, his voice just above a whisper.
"Why?" the dragon mimicked him, his head turning to the side, much in the same way that it had when he was still in dragon form.
"Why... do dragons ask for maidens?" he stammered out. He could feel his face heat up, despite the cold in the air.
The dragon shook his head in response, chuckling softly. "Dragons don't ask for maidens." he clarified, "We're offered maidens."
Arthur stared at him dumbfounded. The dragon must have taken his silence as a sign that he did not understand, for he elaborated. "Is a king likely to be a maiden? Or a village chief? It's the men who make the laws, and therefore decree that maidens should be offered."
"Oh." was Arthur's only response. "I see." he supposed that it made sense, in a twisted sort of way. If this dragon had told him that statement before yesterday, he probably wouldn't have believed him. But the events of the past 24 hours had left him with a rater cynical view of the world.
"But you are not a maiden, so what are you doing out here, tied to a stake?" the dragon queried, stepping closer to Arthur and scrutinizing him with his too-blue eyes.
"I-" Arthur began, "That is, I..." he weighed his options. To continue talking to this dragon would mean a few more minutes of life, at least, before he was gobbled up. Heck, there was even a chance that this dragon may let him go, if he proved to be interesting enough. But he was again reminded that he had nowhere to go. He decided that it really did not matter what he said to this dragon, his fate would be the same either way. So he decided to be honest.
"I... was accused of witchcraft." he confessed, "I've lost my home. I lost my parents years ago. I have nowhere to go, and no one to turn to. As I see it, my two options are to get eaten by you, or to get eaten by wolves. I thought that you might be quicker about it." he finished, feeling oddly relieved.
The dragon stared at him with an unreadable expression. "Are you a witch?" it asked.
"Of course not!" Arthur bellowed. Really, for a dragon, he wasn't too bright...
"Oh, that's good then." the dragon answered.
"If you don't mind, I'm rather tired and hungry. I know I won't make much of a meal, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd just get on with eating me." he said, trying no to sound as pathetic as he felt.
"Do you really want me to eat you?" the dragon asked earnestly.
Arthur stared at him with tired green eyes, a small smile playing over his lips. "Why not?"
The dragon looked at him with an expression that almost seemed to be... disappointment? No that couldn't be. The dragon was probably just thinking about how horrible Arthur would taste.
Then the dragon moved, so quickly that Arthur had trouble following his movements. Before he knew it, he was once again staring up at the dragon's true form. It's great wings flapped ferociously, sounding like sails on the wind. Arthur put up his arms in front of him to protect himself from the sudden gale.
He felt the dragon's claws around his middle, and gave a startled cry as he was plucked from the muddy ground. He saw the earth below him get farther and farther way as he was carried higher and higher into the sky. He was certain that he was screaming, as he could feel the strain on his lungs, but he could not hear anything above the wind rushing by his ears.
Eventually, he lost consciousness.
Ok, so, I hope everyone liked the first part. More to come... soonish. I've got two other fics I'm writing at the moment. (Why do I do this to myself?) Thanks again for reading!
**********
I'd like to get your opinions before I begin writing the next bit. Should I make it action adventure? Or just skip straight to the smut? I have a vague-ish plot-line in my head, but I'm open to suggestions. Please comment your answers! Please? I'd really appreciate your opinions!
**********
