Author Notes: I love these two. I love them so much. You have no idea how much they make my stomach do flips. I have to hold myself back from rushing along too fast, because I want the full effect when I get to the ending. But damn. Damn do I love these two.
Still getting used to writing in first-person present tense. For one, I don't normally write in first-person, and although I've written some in present (mostly those smut-centered fics), it's never been in first-person. Funny thing is I'm really enjoying it, which is weird because I read a lot of fantasy which is mostly written in past tense. I should be more comfortable in past, but there's a different sort of thrill in present.
Oi. I'm rambling again. Sorry.
When I say forgive the abundance of original characters, I mean throughout the story (I can't make a crew with just Hetalia characters; that would be boring for exploring the rest of the world later). So yeah. I do kinda hate the self-insert OC, though, so don't expect one of those. These are just characters that exist in my original world already.
Chapter 3: Trust Me
I'm grinning like an idiot. I know. But it doesn't matter. The Elf has responded. The immortal Elven sky pirate. Holy shit, he's down here, and I managed to get him to talk to me again. Well, snap back at me more than talk, really. Honestly, it didn't even take as long as I thought it would. Then again, a simple angry response doesn't mean he's willing to trust me. One step at a time, I guess.
Step one: get him to acknowledge my presence again.
Check.
Step two: keep up a conversation.
Here we go.
"I also heard how you really are the only one who survived." I pause, chew the inside of my cheek for a second, then take a breath and plow forward; consequences be damned, I need him to talk to me. "How you're in this mess because of someone's mistake. Your previous captain's mistake, right?"
"Shut your mouth!" The angry fire is a bit more than I expected, and I can hear chains rattling, the clinging echoing against the empty stone rooms. "You know nothing."
"Obviously I know enough to piss you off," I counter, even though my brain is trying to think.
Chains. He's been left in an empty cell down here and chained, too? That's a bit of excessive, isn't it? What are they so scared of? He's just an Elf. Ah, well, he's an Elf with some unknown magic capability. Fuck. That's going to make things difficult as all hell. Not only do I have to find a way to break him out of here; I also have to contend with chains.
Fuck my life. I'm not smart enough to figure this out on my own. I know there's something here, but I can't for the life of me think of how to use the cards I've been handed. He has experience as a pirate. He has to have good ideas. If I can get him to work with me...get him to trust me...maybe we can both jump out of hell.
"Half Elf bastard," Arthur snaps at me.
My reaction is habit. "Yep. That's me."
I frown when I hear a growl. "Fuck off. Enjoy your solitary and leave me alone."
Great, I think with a wince. He's gone silent again. Come on, think. What could I say to get him to take me seriously? I had a chance to make a friend in him, and I've blown it. Twice. Mentioning my crime was my first mistake. Carelessly using the information I just recently gained to rile him up, another mistake. There has to be a way to fix this. Has to.
Shit, when all else fails I'll just think out loud. "I wonder what mistake she made. Krija didn't really say any details. Just that you'd survived her sister's mistake. Which I find incredibly interesting. Sorry, but it is. Hell, if you have so much magic you can't die, why are you even down here? If I had that much innate magic, I'd break the rocks and bust my way out by force."
"I'm not a Catrek." Arthur's voice comes back. "I'm an Elf."
That's all he says, though. Nothing about his previous captain, or anything else I mentioned. Not even a recognition of Krija's name. Damn. I had hoped dropping her name would spark something, at least. With a grunt, I lean back against the stone cell wall.
What a weird thing to say, too. Of all the options he could possibly respond with, he decides to snap about his race. "I'm not sure I understand. Why bring that up? I didn't say shit about you being a cat-"
"The magic thing," Arthur interrupts, and he continues, sounding a bit like an annoyed parent lecturing their child about the rules of the universe; whatever, he can talk to me however he wants to as long as he talks to me. "Catrek are the ones with elemental magic. Not Elves. I may have a lot, but I can't access a lot at once nor can I 'break the rocks' as you suggested."
"Keh," I yawn. Loudly. On purpose. "How boring. Maybe you're useless after all."
"Excuse me?"
"What? I just thought someone who was holed up and chained down here, someone the military obviously fears, would have a bit more, uhm, what's the word – pizazz – to his magic abilities, you know?" I grin because that's totally not true. I'm not hoping for random bursts of power. I'm just thinking the whole he-can't-die is pretty important.
Especially because of how the military is treating him. He's got to be a threat. Somehow.
"Pizazz?" Arthur says back. Hey, he doesn't sound pissed anymore; maybe I"m getting somewhere. "I don't know about that. I told you last time. I'm here because they can't kill me. It's that simple."
I shift a bit. Leaning against the wall is good and all, but eventually I think I'm going to sit down. Yeah. Sitting down sounds nice. Besides, my back fucking itches like crazy and it's so hard to resist the urge to rub it against the stone wall. I know Krija healed me, but I have no way of knowing how well those wounds on my back were healed. How much does the magic do anyway?
Gods, I wish I knew more about magic. I grew up in a predominantly Human world. Where magic is either envied or hated. Where no one knows anything besides what the military feeds them. Where fathers hate their sons solely because of the elven blood within them – or maybe the blood red eyes and white hair on a child bothered him. Hell, I don't know. After Ludwig was born, I was cast aside anyway. All the work and money spent on making me a proper citizen in society was suddenly funneled into my younger brother. Ludwig, the perfect child. Ludwig, the perfectly cute and honest and intelligent and adorable and...
Groaning, I push the memories away. Not what I want to think about right now. Focus, Gil. Focus.
Taking a deep breath to focus my breathing and help calm my strangely racing heart beat, I tune back into the world around me. Arthur. I need to talk to Arthur. What was the last thing he said? Oh, right, I remember now.
"What use is your magic, then?" Besides, I need to know this, too. I need to know what he can do, so I can start thinking about how to get him out of here. How to get us out of here.
"Why the hell do you keep going back to that? What's so gods damned interesting about my magic?"
I laugh, then. Like, seriously, he's going to ask such a thing to a half-elf? I'd think my interest would be normal. Still, I laugh it off, smile, and slide down to a sitting position against the wall. (Ouch, note to self, back hurts, no more sliding). Covering up my wince, I shrug, more from habit than expecting him to see me, I guess.
"I don't know," I say. "Maybe it's because I'm a half-elf without any magic to call my own. Maybe it's because I grew up where magic was an enigma. Maybe because the rumors about you and your survival are fucking insane and impossible and knowing that it's true, I'm even more intrigued by the reasons why."
"Heh," Arthur grunts. "You and me both."
Now that makes my eyes open widely. Hell, I even turn my head as if I could see him through the wall. I can't, but I can sure act like it and imagine him, though. "What? You don't know why?"
A sigh. A loud one. Almost sad sounding, too. Odd. "No, I don't. By all accounts, I should be dead. They tried so many ways to kill me...Hell, if they didn't want a body as proof, they might have done it by now. Then again, the magic seems to activate even when I'm asleep or unconscious. So who knows? I certainly don't. All I know is that being down here for so long is draining. Something down here affects it. Maybe I'll die a slow death, having the magic drained from me little by little. I don't know, and I can't do a damn thing to stop it."
My eyes blink. My head jerks up at a sudden realization. I feel my hair strands bounce against my forehead. Trust. He's talking to me. Personal worries. Something you don't disclose to just anyone. He's discussing his frustration about the slow death he assumes he's suffering. To me. The one who came in here and pissed him off with short jabs about his survival and the reason for his current predicament. A short conversation later and he's talking about his lack of knowledge of his own magic, and his fear of his supposedly inevitable slow death. You don't talk about these kinds of things with just anyone. Which means...he trusts me now.
Then again, maybe he just needs someone to talk to and he's taking advantage of me. Whatever. It works. I have his attention, and that's all I needed. Now...
Step three: pitch the escape plan.
This is going to be interesting.
"All right," I announce into the empty stone cell, listening to it bounce around the room. "Now that I have your attention."
Beat. "Excuse me?"
I roll my eyes. Did he not hear me? Hell, I've spoken quieter than that before and he's heard it bounce back to him. Oh well. Guess I'll try again a little louder. "I said, now that I have your attention, let's discuss escape plans."
Laughter. Full blown heavy laughter. I sit there, feeling my eyebrows twitch as it echoes back at me. This is different from the cruel laughter, yes, but it's also different from Krija's earlier bout. Arthur's laughter has so much disbelief in it I can't figure out if he's mocking me or not.
"Hey, shut up!" I snap, the uncertainty getting the best of me. "Fucking asshole, I'm serious."
The laughter subsides. Slowly. "You're serious?"
"Of course I'm serious!" I shout back at him. Disbelieving asshole. Can no one be optimistic down here? Damn. It's like they don't even want to try escaping. "I've already tried escaping a few times, remember?"
"You would think failing that many times would make you quit."
I snort. "Oh hell no. Failing only makes me try harder."
There's no response, and I don't feel like continuing, either. I'll just sit here and let the annoyance simmer a bit. Everyone's always laughed at me for trying something over and over again. The maids, the guards, my teachers, my father... Everyone underestimates me and calls me foolish for trying too hard. Well, fuck them all. I'm not going to give up just because it seems impossible. There's always a way. I firmly believe that, I always have, and I'm not going to let a few months in prison change my outlook.
Sure, by myself things are near impossible. Each attempt has shown me this much. I need help to get out, and because of my crime, getting help has been difficult. The first person to hold any kind of decent conversation with me is Arthur, a fucking immortal Elf pirate who gave up on escape a long time ago. Well, fuck him. I understand he's been stuck down here, unable to die, for a lengthy amount of time. Who knows how many years it takes to break an Elf anyway?
But that doesn't mean I'm going to give up.
"You're either incredibly foolish -"
I roll my eyes at Arthur's comment. "Right. Everyone always says that."
I hear him chuckle slightly, but he continues on. "Or so determined you're imperceptibly brilliant."
This gives me pause. "Wait. What?"
The anger and frustration of being rejected so quickly slowly begins to cool. I can feel my head clear. No one's ever seen wisdom in my choices. Hell, even if they notice the determination, they laugh it off as foolish. Sometimes, it becomes difficult to keep up my optimism when there's so many haters around, too. But Arthur...
Two conversations, and he sees the potential in me when no one else would. I haven't even see this guy, yet. He hasn't seen me. Just honest voices going back and forth in a world of stone blocks and metal bars.
"All right," Arthur says. "I'm listening, half-elf."
I grimace. "Gilbert."
"Hm?"
"It's Gilbert," I repeat. "Gilbert Beilschmidt. Even if I am a half-elf, I prefer my name, you know? Eh. Actually, just call me Gilbert. I no longer consider myself part of a family."
While it hurts even when I say it, I know it's the truth. And Arthur deserves the truth. He's believed in me. He hasn't heard my ideas yet, but he's willing to listen just because he sees potential. I should give him something for that, right?
"I understand," Arthur hums, his Elven voice creating those musical phrases just through his speech. "I suppose you should know, then. It's Arthur Kirkland. Call me what you will."
I close my eyes and grin. Okay, so I'm jumping ahead in the phases of my plan here, and it's not really necessary to keep his interest. But he did just leave it open, so why the hell not?
"All right. What do you think of Captain?"
~!~
A/N: It's kind of weird writing full conversations without either character being able to see the other. Like. All those body language cues go completely unnoticed. Weird.
-Ah, another short chapter. I think the ending works well here, though, so I decided to keep it there instead of forcing it forward. I think the chapter is so short because it's dialogue heavy. Just like the first chapter, it focuses on Gilbert and Arthur's conversation and you know Gil is planning something. Just what is he planning though? Hmm... -Also, yay! They know each other's names now!
Review Responses:
-Sora Resi: I'm glad to hear it! I love writing Gilbert. He's so much fun.
-Kairi: I'm amazed Arthur comes out so vividly with just one line. Awesome.
~I appreciate all reviews/alerts/favorites/etc; please let me know what you think~
~Reda
