Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any characters associated with it.
Warnings: This FanFiction contains Male Pregnancy and Genderbending, if these things offend or make you uncomfortable find something else to read that you actually want to.
Notes: Thank you for taking the time to read my work I greatly appreciate it. Feel free to comment just know while I appreciate constructive criticism, comments regarding how Male Pregnancy is impossible or inappropriate will be ignored. Once again if you have a problem with it I recommend you leave to read a piece that will make you happy. Last of all I will not be shipping, while it might seem strange romance is not the focus of this written work.
Thank you again for checking out my work and I hope you enjoy.
Timing of Miracles- Five Weeks since
He didn't have that much time left, if he was going to be successful, he needed to be fast acting and efficient. It was with much self-control that he forced himself to calm down, if he was going to get her help, he needed to be calm and relaxed. He could be very easily taken advantage of if he came to her in a panicked state.
He patiently walked behind the mess of snarled hair strolling forward. An enchantress, a witch, they could be tricky things indeed. This one owed him a favor from a few years ago and while it seemed like she would repay him tonight one could never be too careful, they were known for their lethal tricks. But he had no other choice, they were masters of the things unknown and if anyone had any way it would be her and her kin.
The world darkened as they went deeper into the woods, deeper into the mirror world of magic and the undefinable. Deeper into the darkness where her layer was and where his solution laid.
She began looking through her books, scrolls and runes when they finally arrived at her cave like home. But it didn't take long before she had released a screech like cackle when she found what she was looking for. She looked at him then, her ugly face marred with wrinkles and scars, her black eyes bright with unnatural mirth.
"Right here, this is what you're after." She pointed to a few inscriptions on a well-aged book.
"Birth After Death, yes, now can you do it." He looked at her determinedly, not bothering to read it all the way through. All that mattered now was that it worked and he wouldn't have to deal with this horrible mistake.
"Well of course," she hesitated as she looked down again, her snarled lips thinned "But there are conditions and payment. Very hefty all of them, such a waste of resources."
Arthur rolled his eyes, he didn't have time he would pay for it, he would give everything at this point.
"I don't care, as long as you can do it I will insure you receive whatever you wish. But whatever you do, do not scam me or I will make sure that your blood covers every millimeter of my land. "
She gave a nervous laugh and slunk back as England pushed forward. Her hands grabbing at the book to put it between them.
"Well of course I wouldn't but you should know what might happen. I would never be unjust to my nation and I would hate for you to think that what I did was to hurt you. The spell is expensive, a new body cannot be conjured out of dust it has to be made first and that take time. You have to give it time before you see results. Not to mention a nation's body is no common thing. It would need to be retrieved from another plane of existence and that takes magic I do not have access to which leads me…..."
"What do you mean you don't have access to that magic you just said that you could bloody do it!" Arthur snapped.
"Well that's where your payment comes in to play, with your …" her voice became a whisper as she made her final demand. But so softly did she speak that Arthur couldn't hear what she needed. He demanded that she repeat.
"I need your wand."
He paused, his wand? The item that connected him to the world of magic. The sacred object that was gifted to him by his late mother. The witch needed his most prized possession to be able to perform this enchantment.
As swiftly as he could he grabbed his pack and pulled out the case he used to hold it. He hesitated for a moment but in the end, there was no competition. He shoved the wand into her hands as her face played a strange mixture of shock and glee.
Almost immediately she began working on weaving the spell together. The words on the page glowing brighter and brighter till all went white and flash suddenly.
Arthur jerked awake, breaking away from the nightmare like memory. He felt his heart beating hard behind his chest and worked on getting his breathing under control before jumping out of bed and rushing to the guest room. Crumpet had fallen off the bed and was now looking at him dejectedly.
He ignored the achy and sore feeling his body had been enduring for the past week. Maybe it was a virus coming on or maybe it was the stress of recent days but it didn't matter when America was not coming back.
He opened the door, louder and more careless then he had done for the past two weeks. Hoping that he would be greeted with a teen grumbling about how he had gotten here. But there was, as there had been, nothing. The box was where he had left it and the room was all in order. The meticulous, well-constructed room he put together. A room where there was no American to mess or clutter things.
It was 3:00 AM but today was the day, the last day he had with the remains. This was the day the US Government was planning on burying their personification at 5:00PM. This was the deadline for Alfred to come back to him and the rest of the world. But so far it seemed like he didn't want to, so far it seemed like nothing was going to happen.
Arthur it could feel his anger rise and boil as he contemplated the situation, he had managed to get himself into. The vase sitting on the drawer next to him had no chance when grabbed it and chucked at the wall shaking.
"Dammit you bloody Git, why won't you come back already. What are you waiting for, is it funny seeing me like this? I admit it, I miss you can you get your arse back here already!"
He sunk to his knees ignoring the achy pain in his hips and the nauseous feeling in his stomach. Tears started to collect even as he tried to remain somewhat collected. But his stomach clenched finally painfully and tears finally started falling.
"I'm sorry you lune, I didn't mean for you to die, I didn't so if you could just come back for me, if you could humor me." he began to sob.
He remembered when Alfred was small, just a toddler. They would be in a field or at the market together and Alfred would always stray a little too far from him. He would call and the little scamp would always pause as if to put to put up a struggle but, in the end, he'd always come back to rush into the older Countries arms.
He stopped coming to him leading up to the revolution, all their good relations had been put on hold when that damned war broke out. He lost America then and their relations hadn't been improved any during 1812. They got better the following years and during the World Wars they managed to work together to defeat the Axis Powers.
But things never went back to the way they did before as America would usually do something stupid and England would usually lose his temper. Thus, starting the same old script in which, he would lash at America while Alfred teased him.
It figured that Alfred wouldn't come to him now, that even through the power of magic his boy refused to even meet him halfway. No, Al probably thought it was pretty funny seeing Arthur in misery while everyone assumed him a murderer.
He spent a good half hour calming down and trying to get a hold of himself. When his eyes were dried of tears he began to wait, he didn't know if there was anything to wait for anymore but he sat there and listened. Predictably there was nothing, all was silent but his ragged breathing and the jingle of Crumpet's collar elsewhere in the house.
He couldn't bring himself to go back to bed, he was quite certain he wouldn't get any sleep at this point. The best thing to do was probably get ready for a miracle or the flight the coming noon. He slowly got up and sauntered out of the guest room not bothering to shut the door, and into the kitchen. He begun the everyday ritual of tea making and found some comfort in the tradition and its stability.
He didn't quite feel like an entire breakfast so he just prepared one cup of Earl Grey and sat at the table. He turned on the telly but more as background noise to his tumultuous thoughts, mostly concerning what he was going to do presently if things turned for the worse.
He began to rub at the side of his hip, many years back he had broken the pelvis severely. He healed as swiftly as a nation but from what the Physicians told him it didn't heal the "right" way, so every time he was stressed or fell ill, he could be sure that the soreness in his hips would flare back up again.
Physical pain was easier to deal with, some tea with paracetamol could set him up for a fair day. HE had long learned that it was the mental and emotional pain that was the worse. A nation could heal from a broken bone faster than any human could, but dealing with grief and loss were almost identical. Maybe even harder for his kind as there was no escaping. He could only do what he had done for so many years and that was to move on and forget.
He brought the cup up to take a sip but placed back down, the ill feeling had yet subside making everything rather unappealing.
But this time around he didn't know if he could or even if he desired. America was young but had been through a lot with him. A few hundreds of years was nothing to dismiss. He wasn't like a human that Arthur only knew for a few years How could he start forgetting when that stupid bloke had been annoying him since the 1600's.
Crumpet chose that moment to jump up onto the table in front of him. He hadn't thought of it till today but if he was going, he really needed to find someone to watch and his house. He would need some time there so it wasn't as if she could just wait for a few hours till he got back.
If he could get one of his brothers that would be the best. After all they were usually the closest and they knew how Arthur liked to keep his things. Scotland would be the obvious choice; the man was relatively responsible and in these later years could get along with Arthur enough to do it. Although he wondered now.
Scotland had been pretty fond of America, as they both were freedom loving idjits they didn't always have the same snags he did. Enough of Scotland's people had migrated over just enough to have an influence on the boy.
Seeing how America was no longer… with them anymore he didn't know if Scott would agree. Especially since he knew what actually happened, he had the ability just like all of them to see the world of Magic, in fact he was the first person Arthur went to after Alfred passed.
"Elf got you that much, huh? Your pride was sooo hurt by this ya just had to bring him along? The same fucking blighter that does not even believe in Magic, yes, you decide that the one day he can 'See' to bring him along just cause ya can't bear to be humbled once in ya life."
England had been standing out in the cold in the dead of night. In his hands was a small little wooden box that he held close to his heart.
"Come in already, but for your stake ya better hope that a Nation can heal from even this. Or trust me I won't be the only one wanting ya head."
Crumpet laid on her side in front of him, and he indulged her by stroking her on her belly. He sighed, after that Scotland probably wouldn't even answer the phone for him. Ireland was out of the question, Aidan was still pissed at him over Northern Ireland, but to England the matter was over. The people living were still apart of the UK and therefore his. Sure, when push came to shove they usually could unite in some fashion, but now was not one of those times.
There was no other choice, he would have to call Wales. The oldest brother who lived like a recluse and didn't bother interacting much with people, including family. It wasn't that he wasn't a kind man, Arthur could get along just jolly with him for the most part, he just tended to enjoy solitude with his herd of sheep and occasionally a Border Collie.
His stomach turned painfully as he went to grab for the phone hanging in kitchen, but at the last minute he rushed to the loo as his stomach gave out.
It was 5:00 when he was interrupted from packing with the chime of his doorbell. Wales, it had to be, he had been so relieved when his brother accepted and promised to be their within the next two hours. Especially since Arthur had called him at 3:00 in the morning and the man hadn't seem so enthused to have been woken up.
As Arthur made his way downstairs, he could hear soft knocking coming from the door and he picked up his pace. He unlatched the door and opened it to face his brother, a thin man wearing an overlarge coat. Dark hair was primarily hidden with a cap and thick brows sat over teal-grey eyes. Glynn, as was his human name, remained largely the same, with a look of weariness across his features. He was clean shaven and his lips were set in a grim line as he never was much of a smiler.
"You look terrible Arthur, I thought you sounded bad on the phone but oh my." Glynn exclaimed as soon as England had opened the door all the way.
Of course, he didn't look well, this was no jolly time for him. Was he supposed to look like the beacon of health and wellness when someone close to him just passed!?
"Maybe someone should go in your place, I will go if you need. I think everyone will understand especially during such…. strange and miserable times. You should really be sleeping and getting better…."
Great, just what he bloody needed, here he called Wales to watch his cat and the man instead seemed fit to lecture him. For a moment Arthur felt sympathy for America whenever England got on his case, but he quickly pushed it away. In America's case it was whenever the boy had done something horribly idiotic, Glynn was just a controlling git.
England rolled his eyes and walked back inside with the nagging Wales behind him. Glynn stopped talking soon after and Arthur felt the man glaring at him from behind. Arthur turned back to face his brother to glare back only to find his brother's thick brows drawn up in concern.
"I'm fine, just have had a hard time sleeping lately." he relented.
All he needed was a quick shower, and new clothes, that would insure that he looked a little more presentable. He reached up to rub his face, maybe a shave too, but it was odd his face remained rather smooth. His life had been passing so strangely it wouldn't have surprised him if he had shaved the night before or earlier in the morning and just forgot.
"You can watch Crumpet, right? You're not just here to be difficult right now?" Arthur bit out a little harsher then he should have.
"Arthur I'm serious, I don't want to cause you trouble but you should look at yourself. You look almost as bad as you did during World War 2 when Germany was bombing you. I just want you to get a hold of yourself before you go out and…."
"They're burying his remains today, I can't be missing, especially since this whole damned thing is my fault to begin with." England interrupted.
He looked away from his brother trying not to imagine people burying that little box when he was hoping desperately that America would just spring up from it.
Glynn sighed and shook his head with a look of pity. He frowned and looked at Arthur deep in the eye, as if he was trying to read him like a book.
"You're not saying goodbye though. You have kept his ashes and insist on bringing them yourself, it is obvious that you are being obstinate about the whole thing. You need to let go of this, maybe it would be better for you to stay here instead of clinging to the box."
"You don't understand, I have to go I can't let go when there is… No, it is mine to burry, my fault and I have to see it through."
"Arthur, I know this is hard, but Parliament has informed me how distressed you've been lately. Give yourself a good long week."
"No! Watch my cat and I will be back next Wednesday. Till then you are welcome to do as you please here!" He finally snapped his temper pushed too far to the limit.
He marched off to the guest room, checking one last time before he finished getting ready. While Wales was trying to be well meaning he couldn't let go. Not when there was still a chance, growing slimmer by the minute he had put too much into the Witch's spell for it fail. He couldn't do much of anything till he had his former colony back, his little baby.
The skin on his chest was rather sensitive to the button up shirt he was wearing, the chilled wind was strong and howled loudly. People and a handful of Personifications around him were giving him looks, most of the human gave him heated glares while some of the Nations glances betrayed their pity. But against the pressure he stayed in his spot.
There was something a pastor was saying, but Arthur could not bother to listen. His eyes stayed locked on to his box on the bottom of a hole. It was a rather nice place to be laid, underneath an oak tree in Washington D.C. The day was bright for November and only a few were at the service, the public was largely unaware of embodiments even less so that their own embodiment was seemingly killed off. It filtered the crowd around the hole to just humans that personally knew Alfred.
While he didn't know much of the humans, he spied Japan from the other side, Alfred's brother Mathieu who must have brought that damned frog. Said Frenchman at least had the decency to keep quiet and respectful here. Mexico was there, but he was almost certain she was there out of formality then affection.
Suddenly the man stopped talking and Arthur watched nervously as two men on the side with shovels started filling the holes. His hands went to fists at his side and his breathing became short as heart beat harder. Watching as the box disappeared and the hole become completely filled. He didn't stop staring as the crowd around him started filling out.
In his peripheral he watched as Canada and France lingered near him, as if they wanted to say something. But there was nothing to say so they eventually shuffled away.
He didn't know how long he stood up there but he eventually broke and looked around. Hoping in vain that America would suddenly be beside him while laughing obnoxiously at England's misery. But despite his wishes his boy wasn't there, near or far. There was nothing, he had failed.
(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)
Could Death mess with people, was that even possible? Because if he couldn't Al really didn't know how to describe being dead. Because out of all his expectations this certainly wasn't it.
Sure, he heard a lot of interpretations of death, some of them even contradicting each other but a common theme seemed to always be freedom. Unless you went to hell (and Al was pretty sure this wasn't hell) you could be free from the troubles of the world and your soul could travel far away.
But for the hero this sense of freedom was missing, in fact he almost felt trapped. Sure, he couldn't feel, see, smell or even taste but there was a strange sense of being. Like he was still attached to his body but couldn't quite find it anywhere.
He began to ponder if he really wasn't dead. If he just so happened to have fallen into a really bad coma. It would explain the almost claustrophobic feeling he had as he would be trapped in his own body. Because deep within his soul he had an inkling that somehow, he was still around, maybe lost but not gone. And it was a strange thing to contemplate, and since he had plenty of time to think he could waste time trying to puzzle through it.