Authors note: I don't know about you, but I decided to set it during the time of Queen Victoria, because frankly, that era fascinates me, although, it IS towards the end. Sadly I don't know much about France around this era and I'm hard-pressed to find stuff. So, feel free to let me know anything you might know. Pertaining to social behaviour and all that jazz.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia...if I did I would rule the world...and that's no good for anyone but me.
Of Science and Fiction;
Chapter one: Professor, professor.
Winter in England was, as one would expect, quite cold. One would also expect not to have to traipse through the snow at ridiculous hours in the night, battling through snowfall and the winds as it fell unforgivingly onto the pavements of London. It was near Christmas now, and most were starting to get into the spirit of it all. Families had begun to spend more time together, to play, and be merry.
Most, because one Arthur Kirkland, trudged alone in the dark of the night, through the snow with a briefcase clutched tightly to his chest. Turning sharply, Arthur raced up the large stone stairs into the much familiar building of the University in which he worked as a professor of science. Releasing a sigh of relief, Arthur pulled open the large oak doors and stepped inside, shoes tapping on the marble floor and echoing throughout the entrance hall, announcing his arrival to nothingness.
Placing his briefcase on the floor, Arthur took the time to remove his top hat, shaking it and freeing it from it's large white prison, revealing the black velvet beneath and clutching it in one hand before brushing a quick hand over his heavy black trench coat. Inspecting the room for a moment, Professor Kirkland bent down, picking up his briefcase again and making his way up the grand staircase, towards his classroom. This was a scenario Arthur found very familiar, as it was often that he found himself at the University late in the night, working through the next day (after all, he did have classes to teach).
There was, of course, reason behind his madness, and that reason being that Arthur often took this opportunity to do this extra-curricular research, away from prying eyes. So, once the professor arrived in his classroom, he made his way over to his desk, placing his briefcase and top hat on the table's surface before shrugging out of his coat.
It was a lonely experience, Arthur thought, as he turned and exited the classroom to walk down the corridor towards the university's library, but he was used to it. Arthur was a very passionate man, at least, inwardly. Simply because, as Arthur approached the doors to the library a small reserved smile spread across his features. This was the time and place he felt most comfortable. Pushing open the doors, Arthur made his way swiftly to the back of the library, feeling at home along one of England's greatest collections of books.
Although Arthur was a man of science, most others found his work hard to take seriously – they mocked him constantly, saying he was just a crackpot, one who let fairy tales go to his head. They were wrong, of course. He just had no way to prove it, Arthur said to himself as he pulled a large, worn book from the shelf, minding the fragile nature of the literature.
Pulling up a chair, Arthur sat, pulling the book towards him as he went. He had read almost every supposed "fiction" book in the university's collection (what he couldn't understand was why they were in the library at all if they served no educational purpose), barring this one a few others. They often spoke of many thing, such as mermaids, fairies, trolls and banshees, their dwellings, where and when they were spotted and who spotted them.
Now, although Arthur believed in "fairytales", there were some things even he found far-fetched; the Yeti for one, the Loch Ness Monster for another. He also had difficulty believing in ghosts and fantastical predators – the night-crawlers and blood-suckers, those more commonly known as vampires. Professor Kirkland was of firm belief that once one died, it was highly unlikely for someone to live again afterwards. This brought Arthur to contemplate the notion of zombies, it was a new concept, and a concept he found completely and utterly ridiculous. Mindless corpses that felt the need to devour the living? Nonsense. If they where that mindless, they wouldn't have thought to eat people in the first place, let alone master the art of movement.
Despite all of Arthur's objections to these mockeries of magical beings, the sat, reading the text on the page on the very thing he despised. But, he supposed, any knowledge was good knowledge.
Hours later, in the early morning, Arthur still sat, enthralled by the text. He had found that this old, tattered and unkept book had contained perfectly logical theories pertaining to vampires – there were no tales of missing women who fell prey to the charming bloodsucker, before being turned into one themselves and then having the entire town hunt and kill them. No, this book was completely and utterly...sensible. The book claimed that garlic (typically a successful way to ward off vampires) did not work and that crosses were still simply a religious symbol, and not a way to scar a vampire's flesh. In fact, the only myth the book seemed to support was that a vampire could never see daylight.
The ancient text seemed to warn the reader, in this case, Arthur, to be wary of the night – that vampires were fearsome predators, so fast the human eye could not possibly keep up with them, a sense of smell so strong, they could locate their prey without so much as a turn of the head, and eyes so sharp, they could dodge a bullet.
However, Arthur was nothing if not stubborn. This was ridiculous, he thought, no matter how much sense it made, it was ridiculous – there's absolutely nothing in it.
Finally, Arthur stood and closed the book, quickly replacing it on the shelf and walking out of the library. It was around the time time other professors began arriving at the university to prepare for the start of the school day – Arthur couldn't remember exactly what time that was, so it really didn't matter.
Time itself mattered little to Arthur, as it often flew away from him, without him noticing – some of his students had even said he was too old for his body – by which they had meant his mind was dwindling at far too old and age; they thought his memory was worse then it was (which was not at all marred by his age, thank you), as he was often late for class, forgot the time or even the tasks he had set to be done for the following day. Arthur sighed at the thought of once again having to remind his students that he was only twenty-nine and that he was not going senile, he just had more important matters to attend to...which shall remain undisclosed.
Entering his classroom, Professor Kirkland was unsurprised to see it empty. He rolled his eyes as he moved to his desk and over to the pile of paperwork that seemed to have materialised on his desk since his last visit.
Arthur, however, had no time to glance at the paper work as the bells tolled, announcing the beginning of the school day. It took all of ten seconds for the noise to build in the corridors and for his students to begin filing into the classroom.
Disregarding his pupils, Arthur turned to the large blackboard behind him, picked up a small piece of chalk and began writing on the board. Today's lesson was relatively simple, so at least some of his students would be free f a headache- 'Good morning, Arthur!' Speaking of headaches....
Arthur turned to the voice that had come from the doorway of the classroom, his shoulders tense as he regarded the speaker with a stern stare. 'For the last time Alfred, it's "Professor Kirkland" to you' he paused momentarily, continuing to stare at the blond boy in front of him, something finally dawning on his mind 'and where did you learn my name anyway?!' Arthur would've sworn, had he been anywhere but his place of work.
The blue-eyed menace simply grinned and stated 'That would be telling!' in the same cheery tone before moving off to his seat, dropping his bag on the desk and sitting down.
Although Arthur knew he was entitled, he did not threaten Alfred with a caning for he knew that simply wasn't the sort of person he was, and sadly for him, so did his students. Huffing in annoyance, Arthur turned back to the board and lifted the chalk once again to begin writing
'Professor Kirkland...'
Failing to acknowledge the small voice behind him, Arthur continued writing.
'Prof-' the voice got smaller, discouraged 'Professor K-Kirkland...'
And still, Arthur paid no heed.
'Hey Arthur!' Alfred's voice boomed, making Arthur jump and turn on his heels towards the American 'Matthew's trying to talk to you!'
As Alfred spoke, Arthur jumped again coming face-to-face with one of his quieter pupils. Matthew gave a shy smile. 'Ah...' Arthur finally breathed, awkwardly, embarrassed at forgetting the boy even existed. 'I apologise Matthew' he continued hurriedly 'I was away with the fairies' and truly, he had been.
'That's fine...' Matthew spoke softly, blushing slightly at the commotion he'd caused 'h-here...!' he stated quickly, thrusting a small pile of papers at him and turning his back to Arthur, hurriedly moving to his seat, next to his brother.
Pursing his lips, Arthur turned his attention to the papers in his hands, noting that it had been a piece of homework that he'd asked to be done a week ago 'Matthew-' Whatever he had been about to say was cut off by a knock at his classroom door. Resisting the urge to scowl, Arthur turned towards the door, shouting 'Come in!'
There was a moment devoid of movement, from Professor Kirkland, his students and the person behind the door, and then, slowly, the door handle turned, squeaking in protest as the door gave way to reveal a short, pale individual, made paler by the obsidian hues of his attire. It was not a sickly pallor that the man possessed; merely one of ivory, perfect and unaffected by blemishes of any sort. The man's hair was freshly cut, short, and as black as the clothes on his back. It framed his face, and complimented his chocolate eyes most flatteringly. Although, Arthur noted that while attractive (Arthur conceded that this man caught the attention of many a woman) he always seemed too dire, and serious. Arthur often thought he was on the brink of boredom.
'Good morning, Professor Kirkland,' the short man stated, stood firmly in the doorway. 'I came to inquire after your decision. The Headmaster would very much like to make the final arrangements.'
Arthur's brows furrowed, which, for whatever reason, some of his students found amusing. 'I'm not entirely certain what you mean, Professor Honda. What decision?' placing the papers in his hand on the desk, Arthur made his way towards the shorter man, although, he was not that much shorter, it was still noticeable.
'Have you not looked at the paperwork-'
'Paperwork, what paperwork?' Arthur interrupted, looking somewhat confused and just a little bit miffed he had seemed to miss something.
Professor Honda was silent for a moment, before he sighed mentally, and explained 'I put it on your desk this morning. You were supposed to have read it by now and made a decision-'
'Well,' Arthur frowned, 'I obviously haven't read it so, would you please be so kind as to give me a brief overview of what it was about, please Kiku?'
Allowing himself a moment to close his eyes and lament having come before Arthur was ready, Kiku breathed slowly, just a little bit agitated that Arthur had used his first name at a place of work, during work hours. It meant that Arthur was appealing to him as a friend, and not a colleague, which made the entire thing much too personal 'We, that is to say the University, has been invited to France to take part in the first, what what promises to be and annual event in the future.' Arthur nodded, brows furrowing in concentration, and not anger this time. 'It is aimed towards the science faculties-' there was a pause for Kiku's hesitation '-Arthur...as the only scientist of any particular merit, it has been decided that you are to attend this function, as well as your best student.'
'What, me?' Up until now, the two professors had been discussing the matter in hushed tones, but Arthur's soft outburst had caught the attention of his students, who, he noticed, were watching now with curious gazes. He continued, leaning closer to Kiku, hissing 'Why me? I don't want to go to bloody France!' Opening his mouth to reply, Professor Honda was immediately cut off when Arthur continued his relatively silent rage 'And what student would I take!? I would've taken Matthew immediately had he not just handed me a piece of homework that was meant to have been done quite some time ago!'
Raising a hand, Kiku held it up, to silence Arthur 'I do not know who you will take, and frankly, it is not my decision to make. I apologise, but you have to go to France. You know as well as I do that once the Headmaster's mind is made up, it stays that way.'
Frowning, Arthur stared at Kiku for a moment, before his frown turned very slowly, into a scowl 'Fine' he relented, turning to his students and making his way over to his desk, picking up the papers Matthew had handed him earlier 'Alfred. You're going to France.' Said boy simply sat, somewhat stunned, as was the rest of the class, Matthew included. He heard a soft click and noted that Professor Honda had left to inform the Headmaster about his decision.
It was then that Alfred broke out into a very uncivil, yet so completely Alfred whoop of joy.
It was also then he realised that the name in the top right-hand corner papers was not Matthews, but Alfred's.
Well...bollocks, he thought.
(A/N: Well, hello! This is the first real chapter to my fic. I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed writing it. I hope I got everyone in character. Let me know what you think and I'll give you all a cookie. Just a plea again, to helpful historians. DON'T LET ME BUTCHER 1900 FRANCE!)