Title: Star-Crossed (2/10)
Genre: humor, romance, angst
Pairings: USUK, side France/Seychelles, Belarus/Russia, Austria/Hungary, brief one-sided America/Taiwan
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: adaptation, poor attempts at humor, rampant character deaths (no one to fret over)
Summary: This is a story about many things. But mostly, it's about a boy and a star. Stardust AU.
Notes: This is the something I've been working on. It's an adaptation of the movie and novel entitled Stardust by Neil Gaiman. It is one of my favorite stories and it is scary how well it fits into Hetalia-verse. I hope you all enjoy this and please remember, reviews are love 3
Star-Crossed
Part Two: Stars
If you've followed the story, then by this point you have met Alfred and his parents, however briefly, and have learned that as a child of two worlds, his life has been difficult and he does not fit in easily. Not that he knows he's born of two worlds, of course, but it's quite relevant. He lost his job and was rejected by the girl of his dreams all in the same day, but alas there was hope for him still. He had struck an agreement with the beautiful Mei to fetch a fallen star for her in exchange for her hand in marriage.
A fallen star—but the very fact that the star had fallen is not nearly as interesting without the story as to why it fell. As I said, this story is really about Alfred and a star, and I quite think Alfred's hogged enough of the spotlight for the moment, don't you?
The story as to why the star fell begins in Stormhold, at the bedside of a dying king, who had summoned his surviving sons to him with a most troubling dilemma. The Stormhold monarchy had an unusual way of determining the next king, and though many, myself included, would call it barbaric, cruel, and highly unnecessary, they were quite proud of their tradition of princes assassinating one another for the throne. The old king had killed all of his older brothers before his father had even begun feeling ill—he was quite disappointed that four of his sons still lived while he wasted away on his deathbed. The king had once been a handsome man, tall with long blond hair and sharp blue eyes—his eyes were still sharp but it was about the only part that was. That and his mind; he was most importantly a cunning man above all else.
The king was surrounded by three of his sons, who were formally called Primus, Tertius, and Septimus—for our purposes you may refer to them as Ludwig, Gilbert, and Matthew. Equally important names and not nearly as pompous I think you'll agree. They were waiting for the last living son to arrive, Secondus or Antonio, who finally arrived with a swagger so confident you'd think music was playing for his arrival. The king spoke to his sons about the importance of ruling a kingdom and how he was disappointed that so many were still left—but he could always count on his youngest to make him proud. And Matthew did, pushing poor Antonio out a window after the king had tricked him, which admittedly did not take much effort. And so there were three, which was a much more attractive number for what the king had planned. Don't look so shocked at the sudden death, loves, Antonio was never very important in the scheme of things.
He called for his daughter, Una, also known as Elizaveta, who never failed to comfort him when he had been a younger man. "Elizaveta's been missing for years, father," Ludwig said gravely. Gilbert nodded beside his brother; Matthew said nothing and the king looked to him with a sly, fond expression.
"Matthew…"
"Yes father?"
"Tradition dictates that the throne must pass to a male heir."
"Exactly, so why would I ever hurt my sister while these two are still breathing?" Ludwig and Gilbert both snorted and edged away from their youngest brother. He had been responsible for killing not only Antonio but Ivan and Hans as well, both of whom were considerably larger than little, unassuming Matthew. Only Feliks had been spared from Matthew, and that was because Antonio had gotten there first by pure happenstance.
The king laughed and motioned his remaining sons forward. "Since tradition cannot be followed in these unusual circumstances, we will resolve this in a non-traditional manner."
And this is where things become incredibly important, where all this talk of crazy, murdering royal families finally relates to how a star fell. The king took off a large ruby necklace and held it out before him, letting it go once all the color of the ruby had faded away, leaving only a clear gem behind. The necklace floated before him and his sons and he looked to each of them in turn.
"Only he of royal blood can restore the ruby to its former glory—whichever of you is the first to do this will be the next king of Stormhold."
And with that final proclamation, the king died, leaving only his surviving sons and the floating necklace behind. None of the princes moved at first, until they all dove for the necklace at once as it darted away from their hands and shot out the window into the night sky. It sped through the atmosphere and space until it all but disappeared—and hit a star who had been watching the goings on in Stormhold with keen interest. A great explosion rocked the heavens and the star was hurtled towards the Earth, back to the planet that the necklace had come from and the poor star, caught quite unawares and minding his own business you know, fell down, down, down.
Until…crash.
Pain. All he felt was mind-numbing pain coursing through every inch of his body and he groaned lowly, incapable of moving from where he had crashed. He felt wrong; wrong and hurt and incredibly pissed off that he had been plucked from his home and forced to fall. His wings hurt beneath him and he groaned again when he felt a sharp, hot pain lance up the side of his leg, originating from his ankle. His Light had faded from the area, leaving only him and the stupid, bloody necklace in a moderately large crater in the middle of a wood in Stormhold. Stormhold—oh blast it all to Hades.
Arthur forced his green eyes open and he pushed his aching body into an upright position, sparing one hateful glance for the gold necklace lying to the side. He turned his head and glanced back at his wings, large and shifting from pearly white to soft silver in the moonlight, taking in the feathers that appeared whole and unbroken for the most part, despite the fall. Small favors he guessed. He willed the wings to disappear from common sight and folded them against his back, taking in his surroundings and praying to the Great Mother that he was alone.
No star was safe in Stormhold, he knew that warning well.
He sighed and reached over to grab the necklace, staring at it for a moment before he put it around his neck. He was cold and he wished that his white tunic was a bit thicker and longer—he grimaced when he tried to move his ankle and decided being cold was more favorable than the pain. He wrapped his arms around his body and rubbed at his eyes with his arm, sniffing as he looked around his lonely surroundings again. He looked back up at the sky, his brothers and sisters winking down at him in worry and he felt a swoop of fear, helplessness and grief sweep through him. He trembled and wished he could convince himself that it was simply the cold that made him shake.
He remembered what had happened to Erin. She had fallen centuries ago, playing too close to a comet without any thought to the consequences, and he still remembered her screams, when those vile witches had cut out her heart and ate it to make themselves young again. And now he had fallen…now he was alone and separated from his family and all he wanted was to go home. He bit his lip and shut his eyes tight in an effort to rein in his emotions and keep his composure steady; he wouldn't do a damn thing sitting here in a crater, crying his eyes out in pity for himself.
He wiped at his face and placed his hands against the smooth stone of the crater, the heat from his crash and Light having warped the terrain of the forest where he'd landed. He grit his teeth and forced himself into a standing position, leaning heavily on his uninjured leg and he tried to determine what the blazes he could do now. He could try and get help, but he didn't dare trust just anyone with what he was—Erin had done that and look at what had happened to her. If he could get his hands on a Babylon candle, he could get himself home, but he knew the rarity of those candles and doubted he'd be able to scrounge together enough money from the stupid necklace to barter for one. He knew not all witches in Stormhold were vile, loathsome creatures, but what were the odds he'd just happen to run into one of the better ones who would be willing to help him get back in the sky?
Arthur took a deep breath and a small step forward, testing what his ankle, which looked broken from the amount of swelling and bruising, could take. It wasn't much and he would have fallen right back onto his face if it hadn't been for his wings, which had unfurled instinctively to catch him. He frowned and gingerly eased himself back to the ground—he wasn't going to fool anyone into thinking he was just a normal man if his wings kept popping into sight every time he stumbled which he didn't doubt would be often. He was a star; stars didn't need to walk all that often back home. He sighed irritably and lay back down, eyes looking up at the canopy of stars shining above him. He stared for several, silent minutes—until a bright flare of light sparked in the distance and caught his attention as it streaked across the horizon, not unlike a comet. His eyes widened as he watched the light speed closer and closer towards his location, sickening realization jolting through him with terrible certainty.
He got back to his feet quickly, uncaring of the pain that shot through his ankle, because that streak of light was heading straight towards him. Fuck all.
Alfred rushed back home after walking Mei to her house, anxious and excited to start looking for the star, even if he wasn't exactly sure what a fallen star would look like. He liked science and all the new things that people were discovering about space was all pretty interesting, but it didn't lend much to the hope that whatever Alfred found would be more than a hunk of burnt up rock. Still, if it was what Mei wanted, he'd cross that wall and get it for her! His dad was sleeping so he was able to grab a few things without being noticed, and once he had a rucksack packed with a few basic things and the rest of his savings, he set out for the wall right away. He only had a week to find the star and bring it back; it didn't make a lick of sense to wait around.
Old Rome was guarding the gap in the wall, as usual, when Alfred arrived; he was old and bent with age, but still a large man. He smiled at Alfred as he approached.
"Young Mr. Jones, you're wandering about awfully late tonight."
"Yeah, well, I'm on a mission. I gotta get across the wall to find a fallen star to give to Mei so she'll marry me instead of dumb old Yao!" Alfred smiled brightly and made to walk through the gap but Old Rome blocked him with his walking stick. "Hey, what gives, man? Didn't you hear? I'm on a mission!"
"Oh, I heard just fine, young Alfred. May be getting old and going blind but I can still hear just fine, and can't let you go through that wall. Made the mistake of letting your father through before you were born, not going to make that same mistake twice."
"My dad? My dad crossed the wall?" All thoughts of the star and Mei fled his mind for a moment. "When? Why did he—I mean, did he come back with anything?"
Old Rome fixed Alfred with a knowing look and cackled a little, whirling around and blocking him again when Alfred tried to dart past. "Oh, I'd say he brought back something all right. But that's neither here nor there, get back home with you! Get that lovely lass a normal gift."
"No, she wants that star and I'm going to get it for her!" Alfred then tried to rush Old Rome, who sighed before moving quicker than a man his age should've been able to and sent him flying backwards with a quick strike of his stick. Alfred felt the breath whoosh out of him as he landed hard on his back, blinking up dazedly at Old Rome for a moment before he accepted the outstretched hand. He was pulled up and nudged back towards the village. "On you go then, tell your father hello from me!"
Alfred glared at the old man but did as he was told, trudging back through Wall and to his home with all the weight of a man condemned. And he was condemned—without that star, he was going to have to watch Mei marry that stupid Yao and he was going to be heartbroken. Life pretty much sucked royally. He sat down heavily at his kitchen table, after making his way back inside his house, burying his head in his arms so he could wallow in his misery; wallowing wasn't the most heroic of actions but he figured every good hero got depressed sometimes. He was so caught up in his wallowing that he didn't hear his dad come down the stairs until he felt a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Picnic didn't go as planned?" Alfred snorted and looked up into his father's concerned face with a determined expression.
"Oh no, that went fine, I even got Mei to agree to marry me instead of Yao. Only catch is I gotta cross the wall to get her the fallen star we saw because that was the deal we made, and Old Rome won't let me through even though he told me you went through the wall when you were my age!"
Roderich Jones blinked before he sighed and sat down at the table beside Alfred, a faraway look on his face. "Ah—well that's a problem."
Alfred snorted again before he met his dad's eyes. "Were you ever gonna tell me you crossed the wall and came back? I mean, what did you see?"
"I—I fully intended to tell you it was just—it's complicated Alfred, you understand."
"Why? Why is it so complicated?"
"Because—because I met your mother when I crossed that wall. And nine months later, Old Rome brought me you."
Alfred leaned back and blinked at his dad, who was looking at him with a soft expression. He, Alfred Jones, he was the souvenir that Old Rome had referred to—the creepy smile and look made so much more sense now. That was—a lot to take in. "So I've got a mom and she might still be alive, right? And is that why I'm so weird, because my mom's from the other side of the wall?"
"You're not 'weird,' Alfred Jones, just different, and I certainly hope your mother is still alive—she was beautiful and kind, you would have liked her. I think—follow me; I have something for you from her that I was going to give you on your eighteenth birthday. You're nearly there, seems as good a time than any." Roderich smiled and rose from the table, guiding his son up the stairs and to the attic; Alfred followed silently and his head spinning from all the information he'd just been given.
He had a mother…of course he had one but the idea that she wasn't dead was just so-so amazing! When they reached the attic, his dad motioned to a small basket in the corner, well-kept and clean; Roderich sat down on the ground next to Alfred, who had dropped to his knees in front of the basket, touching it gently. He told Alfred the story in the quiet of the attic, the story of crossing the wall, meeting his mother, the flower and chain, which he handed over to his son, and the pain of leaving his mother at her insistence. The pain of not even knowing her name, no matter how many times he asked. Alfred listened quietly beside the baby basket, listening to his dad's quiet tone and the love he heard there still, love for his mom who he'd only met once.
"Is this what she brought me in?"
"Yes, and this is for you." Roderich handed his son a rolled up letter with the seal unbroken on it, addressed to Alfred. "I've never opened it—it's from your mother."
Alfred snatched it, pocketing the chain and glass, snowdrop flower in his coat, and unrolled the letter from where it had been wrapped around a solid black candle. His mother's writing was graceful and fluid and he could see faint stains on the parchment that had to be teardrops. He felt a swell of love and longing for his mother has he read her words, read how she had wanted to keep him but was not permitted to, how proud she was of him even though she hadn't seen him for so long. He blinked up at his dad and smiled bright, handing him the letter. "She said this is a baby-candle and that if I light and think of her, it'll take me to her! If it works, it'll take me to the other side of the wall right? Should I go?"
Roderich smiled at his son and patted his shoulder again. "I think that you're old enough to make your own choices and if you want to light the candle, you should. And—and if you see her, your mother, please tell her that I—that I never—"
"I will, dad." Alfred said, excitement buzzing through him as his father handed him a match. He struck it, and held the flame to the black candle, thought of his mother, and the wall, and the star and then everything seemed to narrow and disappear. His ears were ringing and he seemed to be moving impossibly fast, through the air, water, earth, everything—he grinned wild and free, a whoop of exhilaration escaping him as he whizzed over and through. It was the craziest thing he had ever felt and then, abruptly, it was over and he was aware that it was still night, it was cold, and there was someone underneath him.
He blushed and smiled big, expecting to see his mom. "Mom? Mom, it's me Alfred, I finally—!"
It was not his mother underneath him, it was not even a woman—a slim man, near Alfred's age and dressed in some kind of toga thing, was staring up at him with wide, green-green eyes underneath bushy eyebrows, shock and embarrassment plain on his face. Alfred stared back, unable to do anything else, and the other man quickly began to glare, anger and indignation taking over the previous embarrassment. "Do I look like anyone's bloody mother, you daft moron? Get off me!"
Alfred gulped and scrambled to obey, wiping his damp hands on his pants as he sat back on his heels and watched the other young man sit back up. The other young man with freaking wings coming out of his back, messy blond hair and eyes that just sort of caught you. And made Alfred start coming up with other words for 'green' like emerald and other lame stuff like that. He blinked and shook his head, wondering if what he was looking at was real or a hallucination of some sort. "So um, you're not—right, not a mom, sorry. Uh…you've got—big wings and—"
The other man looked behind him and swore when he took in the wings. Alfred watched in amazement as the man closed his eyes and folded the wings back until they all but disappeared—he could still see a faint outline of them, but he wondered if that was just because he knew they were there. The man met his eyes again, wary and distrust clear in his gaze…and just a bit of fear. Alfred wondered why this guy was afraid, he was the ones with the freaking wings and all! "Are you—you're not to tell anyone about these, understand? They're nothing important and—Mother above, you're not a warlock, are you?"
Warlock? "Me? No! I'm just—I'm just looking for my mom and I—I'm not really from around here. I'm from Wall, you know in England?"
"From the other side? Not Stormhold?"
"What's Stormhold?"
"You're standing in it—this world is Stormhold." Alfred noticed that the other man seemed to relax exponentially at the knowledge Alfred wasn't from around here, still frowning but no longer looking at Alfred like he was going to be murdered or maimed. "You've crossed the wall; you're not in your world anymore."
"Are you serious? So, this is like a whole other dimension and stuff? That is awesome!" Alfred got to his feet and started to look around in curiosity, all but forgetting the winged-man who was struggling to get back to his feet. Another world, he was in another world! It was amazing and so cool and—why was he here and not with his mom? The letter had told him to light the candle and think of her and—
"But then Mei and the star just popped into my head. Wait, that means that—hey, Wing Man, this is going to seem like a funny question but have you seen a fallen star anywhere around here?"
Alfred glanced back when he was only met with stony silence, watching as the other man snorted and rolled his eyes upward, a look of disbelief and bitterness on his face. "You're being clever."
"No, I'm totally serious! Look around, we're in the middle of a crate and this has to be where it fell!" He grinned but that only seemed to make the other man angrier.
"Oh yes, this is where it fell. Or, if you want to be really specific, this is where it fell after being knocked out of the heavens by this bloody necklace," he motioned to the large necklace across his neck, resting against a patch of bare skin that his outfit didn't quite cover, "where it had been minding its own business and not bothering anyone. And right about here, here is where it got hit by what has to be the biggest idiot on either side of the wall!"
Alfred stared at the man for a moment before it clicked. "You're—you're the star?"
The man shrugged and winced as he hobbled over to a larger boulder to sit back down, favoring one leg heavily. Alfred watched in concern for a moment before he hurried over to assist, wrapping an arm around the other man's waist when he nearly stumbled, pulling him flush against his body for a moment. They stared at one another before Alfred smiled charmingly and helped him sit down, an idea forming in his head. The man had red dusting his cheeks but he mumbled a soft, 'thank you' and eased out his injured ankle, which looked to Alfred like it either had a bad sprain or small fracture.
"So, you're really the star?"
"I just said that, didn't I? I'd appreciate it if you don't go blabbing about it though—Stormhold isn't exactly safe for my kind."
"Really? But why?"
"It just isn't."
"Oh…well, that sucks I guess. You probably could use some help getting home or at least somewhere safe, right?"
"Among other things, yes that would be quite helpful."
"Ok—well, I'm gonna apologize for this in advance, but I promise it'll all make sense!" Alfred pulled out the chain his dad had cut and sent it out, watching in humor as it looped around the star's wrist and sealed shut. The star stared at his wrist before glaring at Alfred with the utmost anger and loathing. "This means you gotta follow me right? You see, you're going to be a birthday present for this girl I wanna marry and—"
"Because nothing says romance like the gift of a kidnapped and injured man?"
"Hey now, let me finish explain—"
"I'm not going anywhere with you, wanker!"
The star began to struggle and Alfred pulled the chain tight to keep his grip on it, especially when the wings popped back out and began flapping—Alfred had to really focus to not notice how the wind those wings kicked up blew around the star's Greek-looking outfit, showing off long legs. Mei, he had to think about Mei! "Would you quit flapping around? Just listen for second! If you agree to follow me around like this, people will probably just think you're a servant or whatever and won't bother you, and if you agree to meet Mei then I'll give you the rest of this bubbling candle thing—"
"You've got a Babylon candle?"
"Yeah, that's what I said!"
"You said bubbling."
"Anyway, you can use it and you know, get yourself back home."
Alfred grinned at the star, who was looking at the half spent candle with so much longing and hope it was all he could do to not hug the guy. No, bad thoughts, no hugging of the star, he loved Mei.
"Well that—that barely has even one use left."
"So be happy I'm not using it to get us both back to the wall. Come on, I promise I'll look after you, I'm a hero you know, you'll be totally safe!"
The star met his eyes and Alfred felt something in his stomach clench as they stared; the star ducked his head and nodded almost too shallowly to see. "I—I suppose you're offer is acceptable. I accept your proposition Mr….?"
"Jones, Alfred Jones. You can just call me Al."
"Alfred then. My name is Arthur."
Alfred smiled and helped the star, Arthur, to his feet. "Nice to meet you, Artie!"
Matthew stared dispassionately down as he watched his older brother Gilbert choke on the poison and collapse on top of the bishop—Ludwig stared in horror that could either have been real or faked. It was hard to tell with Ludwig. Matthew pretended to choke for a moment before he started laughing at the wildly hopeful look that overtook Ludwig's face, glancing up at Ludwig with blue eyes that were so deep they looked violet in some lights. "Did you really think you were king, Ludwig?"
"You killed the bishop?"
"No, I think that was you—you took the wrong glass." Matthew smiled and leaned across the table, not bothered by the dead bodies on the floor, his voice soft. "Ludwig, we both know that you haven't got what it takes to be a king like father, so why don't you just do yourself a favor and leave hunting the necklace down to me. You can stay here, with your books and your pacifism, and when I'm king, I'll let you be Royal Scribe or something."
Matthew's words were soft and kind, like the rest of him looked, but he knew Ludwig could hear the threat in those words, the warning that if he tried to search for the necklace, Matthew would kill him without a thought. He didn't necessarily want to kill his last remaining brother, but tradition was tradition and it was all these fools thought about most days. Ludwig said nothing, only stared at him in cold anger and 'righteous' indignation; Matthew smiled and snapped his fingers to his men, who promptly filed out and down to their horses, which had been ready to go since that morning. "I'm doing you a favor, Luds, be the smarter men our brothers weren't and take it."
And, with that, Matthew turned and followed out after his men, knowing that even though his back was turned, Ludwig would do nothing to stop him. It was for that very reason why Matthew would make the better king—and everyone knew it. He paused and then smiled sadly with a shake of his head as he heard Ludwig hurry out of the room, calling for his carriage to be prepared; looked like his big brother wasn't entirely un-ambitious after all. A pity, that. "Then let the games begin, brother."
TBC...
King=Germania
Hans=Holland/Netherlands
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