Title: For What It's Worth
Author : Polluxa
Fandom : Axis Power Hetalia
Rating : PG-13 for mild language and violence
Genre : angst
Pairing : Netherlands/Indonesia
Word Count : 1513
Summary : Some things, no matter how much you wish them to be yours to keep, are always, always a little out of reach.
Warning : Feel free to consider this an AU because the countries mentioned here are not created by Himaruya-sensei (or at least, Netherlands hadn't been created when this fic was written. If his character is different from Himaruya-sensei's, that's because I didn't know how his Netherlands was like). These two were born out of a YM conversation with shiroki_kun LJ, so I guess she owns half of them. But don't worry, I'll give you the good half, Shiroki :P
Disclaimer : I own nothing. Even if we made these characters up, the whole universe is still based on that of Hetalia. Pay respect to Himaruya-sensei, you, and go tell him just how awesome he is! Also, lots of thanks to the amazing jali_jali LJ, whose illustrations of Netherlands & Indo-kun have greatly influenced my view on these two non-characters *bows*
Betaread by sei_kun LJ. Thank you, luv! :)
Some things are just not meant to be.
Indo-kun believes this religiously. He has seen dreams, big and small, built up through years of hard-work and fervent praying only to be crushed by the smallest slip of chance. He has heard of people coming so close to be together, yet still separated in the end. He has caught glimpses of victory, of freedom, so near to touch but quickly drifts away when the wind changes course.
Some things, no matter how much you wish for them to be yours to keep, are always, always a little out of reach.
In the beginning, he sees a hope. The bright, gleaming gold of a hope. It comes with the breeze that cheerfully flaps the white sails of the coming vessels. The wind whispers the promise of prosperity and companionship towards a great future forged together. He sees the golden hair that glimmers under the sun of his own land; those blue, twinkling eyes, a confident quirk of a smile and a warmth in the extended hand. He sees a chance, an open path to glory he has been yearning for. He sees a hope and he embraces it with an open heart.
That is his first encounter with Netherlands.
The honorary visitor settles down and together they tour the land. This here is my land, says Indo-kun, we may be tucked away between the lands of giants, but we have enough to get by. Our soil so fertile it nurtures any seed you plant. Our oceans so vast and blue and abundant with life to fill our bellies with. Our forests so green and thick with timbers and riches you have never laid your eyes upon. Our blessings are many and ours to keep.
And spices, Netherlands asks, what about spices?
Spices? Indo-kun laughs, spices we have aplenty. So much that we do not know what to do with.
The blue-eyed blond smiles in return. The blue of his eyes follows the sweep of his new friend's hand, across the secrets of this new land. He thinks of his own kingdom back home and something begins to form in the deepest corner of his chest.
Just wait and see, Netherlands says to his black-haired host, lend me a part of this land and I will bring glory and gold, riches far beyond what you have ever imagined, and lay them at your feet. And I will stay here as your guest until our goal is achieved.
To that promise, Indo-kun flashes his widest, warmest smile.
So it begins. And like most beginnings, all is well and plans are met. Trade routes were established to bring spices and other riches to the great faraway kingdom, and gold in tall heaps back to the eastern lands. And they have become friends, spending time together, in long walks through the tea plantations, or along the busy piers of the colonial port, or romping about at night in the bustling city they have built together.
Netherland's quick wit, confidence, and boisterous laugh charms Indo-kun to no end. For this fair-skinned, blond-haired, blue-eyed strange entity to find so much comfort in his docile and warm hospitality, Indo-kun feels immensely blessed.
Everything goes so well that Indo-kun can not remember when groups of soldiers begin to replace the piles of gold. They come, at first, in small groups with simple arms. Just a precaution to keep the trade ships safe. Then they start coming in squads, then in platoons, then the next thing Indo-kun knows, there is always a company of soldiers everywhere he looks. All as blond and fair-skinned as his foreign friend.
What is happening? Indo-kun asks one afternoon in Netherland's large colonial estate. Why are you bringing so many soldiers to my land?
Those blue eyes are still blue and the golden hair is still fair and the smirk is still the same confident one Netherlands flashed him the first time they met. But the voice that speaks to him now is brimming with power Indo-kun has never noticed before.
You have quite a lovely home, Netherlands says, drinking his tea. It's so lovely that I've decided to call it mine as well.
Some things are just not meant to be...
The words return to Indo-kun's mind as he stares at the ceiling of his detainment cell, a prisoner in his own home. Through the barred windows on the wall, the music from another continent flows in with the wind along with the muffled laughters from mouths that speak a distant tongue. Then he realizes, with horror, the gravity of the situation he has brought upon his country. Where he went wrong, he still can not fathom. It all started out fine. Why can't something that starts so fine end up just as fine or even better?
For days, weeks, years he stays a prisoner as his visitor-companion-rakes his land with sharp, cruel claws. Where did he go wrong? He watches helplessly as the claws rip out the riches he was once proud of. Where did they go wrong? He bellows silent screams as he watches the blood his kin sheds easily like water in the gutter. Why did everything go so wrong? He batters his hands blue and bleeding against the metal bars and cries screaming when the soldiers drag the women out of their homes and throw them to the ground and rape them bloody senseless, again and again and again all through the night, until the morning sun rises to the sight of broken bodies and screaming children.
And why is he still alive?
In his blind rage and shrieking madness, he rises. Grabbing anything he can use as a death bringer, he breaks out of his confinement and gathers forces. Abandoning gold and glory for the stray dogs to piss on, he disappears into the darkness where he lurks and stalks and schemes and jumps on any fair-skinned, blond-eyed soldiers of the faraway kingdom that comes his way. His anger burns fierce, fueled by betrayal and the loss of everything precious in his life. He stops at nothing. As long as he has legs to charge into the battlefield on, as long as he has hands to thrust death to his foes with, as long as he has a heart that is still bleeding since the day he is betrayed, he keeps on charging, fighting, struggling, until at last...
His eyes grow wide, too wide and cold with madness. The bright red splutters in the air, like the heavy rain in February. It rains on everything he sees; on his hands, on his clothes, on his face, on the ground that shakes beneath. When the body in front of him falls to the ground, the force takes him with it. His hands still clench tightly around the bamboo stick, the tip of which has pierced into the uniform-clad body. A hand, wet with blood and cold with creeping death, takes a hold above his trembling ones.
The blue eyes swim with warmth. A tinge of proud, boyish smirk still fresh on those lips.
For what it's worth, says those lips, I'm glad that you're the one who sends me away.
His breathing ragged, Indo-kun stares madly at the smirking face.
This, Indo-kun spits, anger still thick in his voice, is for stealing my country's treasures.
He drives the stick slightly deeper into the body, watching the other man jerks in pain.
This, he pushes the stick again, is for killing my countrymen.
The blond man screams bloody murder, half mad with all the pain he suffers.
This, Indo-kun drives the stick deeper still, is for raping the life and soul out of my countrywomen.
The other man trembles wildly, sputtering blood and deranged words from his mouth.
And this, Indo-kun leans forward until he looms over the pale, bloody face, his forehead rubbing gently against the other man's, is for me.
The kiss tastes like blood and betrayal and tears and lost friendships. They stay that way for a long time, hanging on to frozen time and dear life. Because they know that if they break apart, they will lose this chance to taste each other's mouth, to touch each other's skin, to be so close to the warmth of the other's body. And so they stay drowned in the struggle of lips and hands and stolen breaths, until the forces of their two opposing sides come to tear them apart.
The bastard has the nerves to smile as he is taken far away from Indo-kun, and mouthes something Indo-kun doesn't quite catch but perhaps understands even without hearing the words.
Some things are just not meant to be.
End