Snow and Angel Dust
Rating:M
Summary: Alfred did not know how or when he fell from Heaven, or when he was going to get back. All that mattered now was staying alive and figuring out the Russian scientist, Ivan Bragniski's, intentions on being overly friendly. Oh, if only he knew… RusAme.
Animaegan
Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Hetalia characters. I am only borrowing them for my sick and twisted amusement.
Favorites/Followers:The Vampire Alchemist, Chibi Megane, EashaChan, asdfmawesome2, EnglandXChinaForver, LittlexMissxPsycho, Dreamer-.-LYNX
Reviewers:America96, 91RedRoses, The man (Guest)
America96: Your "WTFBBQ" had me cracking up so bad I nearly passed out! As for what Ivan is… well you'll find out… *laughs manically in the corner* [B: Animaegan, that is so mean…]
91RedRoses: Ivan does seem to be taking the hard route on this, da? [B: *totally a Russia/Ivan sympathizer* It was totally his way of flirting! It was justified-ish.]
The man (Guest): I'm glad you like this story so much! Onward to the next chapter! [B: *in thug voice* I respect you for that.]
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Chapter Four:
The Wronged Have Fallen
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Images wracked Arthur's mind. Powerful images. Horrifying images. Bloody images. The visions of his very nightmares. Alfred, his dear little baby boy, had changed. His sky-blue ye were now midnight blue. His summer golden hairwas now a shade that belonged to the night. His sun-kissed skin was pale, and his blue veins were visible near the crinkles at his eyes. When he grinned, no longer goofy, but now maniacal, Arthur could have sworn he had seen fangs as long as his little finger.
Something was horribly wrong.
Waking up was difficult, but not impossible. Staggering to his feet, the beaten and battered Angel glared at the thick dark blood and ash that was splattered over him. This was why Arthur hated demons. They always left behind a mess. Even in death, they left behind a filthy reminder.
"Ugh," the Angel grumbled, as he flicked a piece of ash from his shoulder. However, it must have come from a nail or tooth, because upon his finger coming into contact with it, the digit began to bleed.
Growling out a curse, Arthur tried to brush off the fragment, to which it floated down to the ground to simply dissolve away. The Angel stomped on it for good measure. One always had to be sure about things, dead or alive, when dealing with demons. They were all tricky things.
When all seemed right in putting the demon snake's remains into the dirt, Arthur stood. He was now breathing harder, and his whole body ached more than before. The Angel knew he had been through a battle, unpreapred, but he knew for a fact, that he shouldn't have been hurting this badly.
Something else was wrong. Terribly wrong.
"What-?" The Angel meant to ask, before he doubled over, hands barely finding grip on his own middle, as the Angel went into a fit of angry torrents of pain. His chest was burnign, his heart was trying to flee and his lungs were trying to put oxygen in still blood in his veins.
The Angel choked, and felt wetness on his mouth. Right as he felt this, he meant someone else's eyes. A vision of a man hung in the air, and their appearance did not spell were transparent, so it was a mirage, but the power that surrounded them was definitely real.
"I will only say this once," the apparation said, as Arthur writhed on the ground. Its face darkened, and they glared. "Stop trying to call back what's mine."
Then just as suddenly as it had come, the vision was gone and Arthur's pain was gone. But the Angel did not move. He lay there on the ground, still, trying to delude himself from believing anything. He saw the sun beat down on his frame, when Francis finally came and retrieved him.
He saw the sun go down, when Mathew returned from where he had gone, but Arthur had not moved. Mathew and Francis had pleaded for the Angel to move even a finger or to say anything at all, no matter what it was he said.
But all Arthur could think about was how his baby had entangled himself with such a terrifying demon.
"Who said that I was human?"
Now Alfred was anything but foolish when it came to matters of common sense. It was one thing that his family nor anyone could ever pick on him for; the Angel knew when to leave in the face of danger. And this was danger. Ivan was danger. His face was that of a dangerous creature. Alfred needed to get the Hell away.
However, this could not be easily done when one does not know where they are, nor how to get out in the first place. For all Alfred knew, Ivan was lying in saying these were his quarters, and that Natalya was right outside the door with more of her 'special testing serums'.
Alfred could not take the chance, his instincts were telling him to run. But he didn't know where to run. Everywhere he looked, there was either a wall or he was looking at Ivan. The other male was big, not in a fat sense, but in a sense of presence and build. Ivan was taller and bigger, Alfred was still weak from horrible experiments. If it came down to fighing for freedom, there was little hope of winning.
"What in the Hell do mean by that!" Alfred started, but then paused in his mind. Either this man, Ivan, as Alfred recalled that the other man had called himself, was lying…or the Angel was in very serious danger. Most likely, the second option. Danger exuded from Ivan.
Alfred was shocked to say the least. He was quietly backing away, or okay, not so quietly. The bed squished under his motions, and creaked. It was probably a sabotage bed, after all. Not that the Angel had really expected anything different. What deranged hospital or testing facility wouldn't want to know at any slightest possiblity their beloved guiena pig was trying to escape.
Or possibly having a nightmare, yes. That made much moer sense. This was a nightmare. Alfred was dreaming again. He used to have dreams of being alone, and feeling watched by strange-colored eyes. He couldn't remember what color or what made the eyes strange now, all he remembered was that when he had the dream, someone would wake him up, screaming about something. Something bad.
If this was a nightmare, but still a dream nonetheless, then Alfred might have a chance. He could get out of here. He was always brought up not to distrust his dreams, because they were very revealing and could be the answer he was looking for.
Lost in thought, Alfred didn't even realize that he was cursing at the supposed non-human. Half of the stuff leaving his mouth was in a different language that made the larger male's eyes twitch. If the Angel hadn't know any better, he might say that the other's eyes had changed color. From their unique color of purple to an oddly familiar shade of dark reddish. But that doesn't happen to humans…
Humans. Alfred blinked, as Ivan continued to stare at him, but with a new sense of perception about him. The smile he wore was close-lipped, but it was still eerie, almost as if, the other knew something that the Angel didn't. it was almost as if…
"There's sometihng behind me, isn't there?" Alfred blurted, and by the brief nod that Ivan gave, a correction was made in Alfred's mind: Not only was Ivan not a human, that look in his eyes was still evil for even the most malice-defined individual, the Angel was in deep shit.
To say that Alfred used what little energy in his wings to fly off the bed was an understatement. The Angel pratically vanished, only for his torn and bloodied and weakened wings to sputter in flight and force him to stop at the door. The young man was in a corner, a dark man, and Ivan had not moved. He was still smiling, and his grin seemed to have grown. He started to chuckle.
A shadow was slowly slithering up the Angel's thigh, but it was weightless, held no warmth, it did not speak within itself, and as a reward for its efforts: it went undetected, until it found enough cover to prove its purpose. To bind the Angel from moving, specifically, moving away at all from Ivan.
Screaming in horror at suddenly being bound. Struggling only brought the younger body to the ground, and held there by the many shadows now whispering freely into his ear. Even the damned spirits within the thin darkness of shadow were laughing at him.
Imprudent.
Foolish.
Prey.
The last word made the very blood in the Angel's veins thud in his ears, as he struggled all the more vigorously. Ivan was not getting his life. Alfred didn't want to die, at least, he thought he was going to die. That was what evil people did to their victims, after they tied them up so that they couldn't escape right? Kill him.
Imprudent.
Foolish.
Prey.
See how he looks at us?
Like he can see us?
You cannot see us.
You don't have the eyes yet.
Yet. But they will come.
He can't come.
He can't escape.
He thinks he can escape us.
He cannot escape us.
Why does he struggle?
Don't struggle, the sting will come.
The sting is worse than any fire on Earth.
Earth.
What does it mean to live on Earth?
Why is an Angel on Earth?
Why did those words ring so loudly in his ears? The Angel wanted nothing more than the voices to be silenced, so that their opinions did not haunt him. Alfred was becoming more panicked, with each time the voices spoke. They were all talking at once; some to him, some laughing at him, and some talking amongst each other. But none of them were the same. There were deep voices, light voices, dark voices, childish voices and then the voice of a harpy.
Alfred was losing his mind. He was hearing voices in his head. He could feel shadows all around him, turning parts of him gently, btu holding him firmly in place. Ivan was massaging his finger to get the moss of the blood open the air. Just the smell of the black dot welling up was enough to make the Angel want to vomit. It was disgusting. This was inhuman. This was wrong.
Why was everything so wrong?
Sure some things about this man and the total situation seemed odd, to say the least, but to openly hint that he may not be human? To give him blood, and for these shadows – these voices of the damned silently obeying his will – this was more than odd. This was bad. Very bad, this was dangerous. Alfred was in danger. But there was no way to get free. There was no clear exit. There was not an even a door, Alfred realized with a sudden start. He was in a room with no door. How the Hell had he gotten here?
What have I gotten into now? Alfred wanted to beg aloud, but something in him told not to open his mouth. Not only because the smell of the blood was wafting around, now almost enough to be called a trickle, but something else. There was something else that made the Angel want to keep silent and his mouth closed. Maybe it was the shadows, there were a few selected ones that were thin. They were grazing his cheek, as if feeling the softness of it, but the touches sent the Angel's nerves on alert. Something was wrong about the way that they were touching him.
Something very wrong was going on. Or was about to…
His instincts were proven right, almost as suddenly as the Angel had been gagged and bound him to the ground, were those same shadows trying to forcely open his mouth. Alfred tried to close it as best he may, but he was overpowered with his weak physical state. Angry tears pricking his eyes, and his tongue starting to dry from the air, the Angel heard his heart batter frantically in his ears.
The shadows held his body close, his mouth open, as Ivan moved closer. The larger male looked almost giddy with excitement, while Alfred wanted nothing more to bite the big nose oly hovering a mere inch from his face. However, if he did that, he might be killed.
Alfred tried to move away, despite the circumstances, but he was not allowed free reign of his own body. The shadows made him vulnerable, and when Ivan's large and cold hand made to hold his cheek; Alfred flinched. The voices laughed at him, but the Angel couldn't help it. Every nerce was alit with fear, he was trapped and bound, forced to obey, and he was afraid. He was in danger and afraid. As much as he believed and loved being thought of a hero, he wanted a hero to save him. Where was his hero?
Who saves the hero when he cannot save himself?
The platinum-haired man was smiling, as he moved his bloody finger into Alfred's mouth. The Angel's lips trembled, as he fought to shut them before Ivan could reach them. But the digit invaded his mouth anyways, and the exact that the blood dripped to come into contact with Alfred's tongue, he knew it.
The blood burned his tongue, to the point it made his eyes water and his body tremble. It tasted horrible. It was dark, demonic, and the epitome of macabre. The poor Angel tried to spit it out, but the hand holding his jaw closed forced him to swallow the vile liquid. It burned down the whole way, almost making the Angel gag and vomit a little in his mouth, but his throat burned too much to take the risk.
Then the inner pain began, it started the faint background thorbbing such as that of mild cramps. But it quickly escalated from a dull burning, in time lapse of a second, to a fiery torrent erupting under the Angel's skin. His skin literally was burned, it changed in front of his eyes. The sight of third-degree burns to the color of blackened ash, and then the sight of burnt tissue trying to recover from some prior onslaught of misery. And it hurt. It hurt like a bitch. It hurt like nothing that Alfred had ever felt in Natayla's experiments, under her scrunctizing and sadisitic eye.
"Silly little Солнышко," Ivan began, as the Angel writhed and screamed in pain. The platinum-haired man grinned, chulking at the miserable sight of Alfred coughing up blood as he tore his fingers at his mouth. He had actually tore a piece of his tongue, and one of his teeth had been chipped. "If Angels are real, why can't Devils exist?" His lips turned into a smile that could freeze the flames of Hell itself, as he watched blue eyes widen to the effect of a young child in a room full of death,and the sight of the effect of his blood began to take over in the poor Angel.
Alfred could have survived as an Angel, without the blood. He hadn't needed to take it. But he had been tricked into seemingly doing it. Ivan had tricked the Angel's body into thinking the blood offering had been willing on both ends, even though Alfred had given Ivan no blood of his own. At least, that he had been conscious enough to have seen and know of.
"Wh-what did you do to me? Who ar-are you re-real-ly?" Alfred managed to choke out, as his whole body began to wasn't human, that much was now obvious. But there was something else about him, something sinister and it spelled both danger and a faint hint of attraction. Although needless to say that between dry heaves and the upwelling of blood, his insides set aflame and trying to exit his body through his vomit, the Angel had more than just his hands full. He couldn't worry over something as simple as 'Oh wow, this guy who is most assuredly trying to kill me, he looks great!'
Despite somewhat chuckling at himself at that thought, Alfred doubled over as an excruciating tsunami wave of pain washed over. The base of his wings began to feel as someone was taking a burning iron rod to their base and then beating the poor wings mercilessly.
Do not fear. I am here for you.
The Devil pulled the Angel into his arms, as he cried out in pain. The larger was already planning not to make the only sound that left his new pet's lips be fully pain. Oh no. There would be please, dishonoring, disgraceful and self-loathing pleasure; the younger would come begging to him and feeling as if the only thing to leave him feeling more than broken inside would be to be broken elsewhere.
"Do not worry," Ivan said, trying to mockingly pet the pained body in his arms. "The pain will subside in a matter of seconds." He continued to mock the other's pain by playing friendly. Fury blazed in those blue eyes, as they dipped in and out of several color schemes. They were red, they turned gold, then they were green.
The trembling Angel was trying to gain his composure. He was gritting his teeth, the pain trying to overwhelm but he was fighting it. He was fighting for all his worth and then some more of his spirit. But the venom now spreading throughout his form was even more determined to succeed. It was winning the battle for power. The pain was coming over more of his nerves, and it was swelling…Before abruptly, it came to a sudden stop.
Alfred had been siezing on a breath, his eyes dilating and his hair probably standing on its ends. Ivan blinked down at him, but as Alfred made a small gasping noise and move to intake much needed air, he felt a cool sensation like that of a wind brush over his hot skin. When Alfred looked to his bare limbs, the burns were no longer there, and the fiery blood had healed all and any of his wounds.
But he could feel a black and evil presence taking over in his body. Cursing Ivan for all his worth and hoping for the worst to happen to him, along with Alfred's revenge, came a startling pain in Alfred's lower back. It was as if someone had just tried to snap his spine in little inches, and was crushing each vertebrae with each excruciating action.
His thoughts were cut off; as he suddenly fell out of Ivan's grasp and fell to the floor, as gracefully as a wet cloth. His pure white wings that felt as if they were once on fire, had suddenly begun to darken. Those wings, which had once mocked snow with its color, were now turned a shade of ebony that even ravens would be jealous of.
Alfred blinked back to consciousness, much later, and found Ivan gazing almost admirably at him. The younger started, eyes going wide, as he suddenly back pedalled to another section of the floor. Except…this wasn't the same room that he had been in before. There were windows now, and people in white coats were looking at him. They pointed, wrote on their clipboards and spoke amongst each other, but they all stared at the monstrosity that they believed was in front of them.
With wide eyes, and shaking palms, Alfred looked down at himself. His hands wre like porcelain, but with veins and a steady heartbeat. Through the mirrored windows, Alfred could see himself and he gave out a scream that was nearly identical to a banshee's howl.
Meanwhile,Ivan was enraptured by the raven feathers that now sprouted from the Angel's back, as well as the scientists currently observing and offering millions upon millions to have Alfred in their testing facility. Ivan would mind them later. For now, he was in awe with Alfred's mental breakdown than any of those mad scientists' expansive checkbooks.
"Fredka," Ivan began, speaking to Alfred in the old Ancient language. The younger body turned slowly, his movement stiff with rage and his eyes nearly black in the same. Ivan continued on, as if unafraid, "I liked your pure wings before, but these are so much better looking on you."
He crossed the space between them with confidence, his presence beginning to crack down on the younger more than it had ever had. Ivan ran a pale, clawed hand down the wing, making it flinch and swipe at the floor, causing a semi-deep and thin trench to appear behind it. Ivan ruffled his claws into the black feathers, smiling victoriously. He thought he had won. He knew that he won.
The Angel's lightly tanned skin had darkened to a shade that was sun-missed and pale; his bright blue eyes turned into a midnight blue. Ivan smirked at the changes that overcame his Angel. The fear finally left in the younger's eyes, and Alfred jumped into a defensive pose.
"What did you do to me?" He seethed through his teeth, noticing he had small fangs that were not only almost noticeable over his pale lips, but also caused a slight accent over his words. He growled low in his throat as the demon's smile turned smug. It was a smirk that the blonde wanted to slap off his face.
"My dear little Солнышко," Ivan began, and putting a firm hand on the small of Alfred's back, "Are you sure you really want to know what happened to you? I wasn't even entirely sure that it would work." Alfred met the eyes of one of the scientists, and when he snarled, the glass cracked. A small spiderweb had appeared over that one scientist's view, and the humans were all in a panic as they talked over the occurrence.
Ivan took back the other's attention, as he said, "But you should be grateful it did! I would hate to loose such a pretty toy." The Russian grabbed ahold of the Angel's jaw and turned his head back and forth, inspecting the changes his blood brought onto the blonde. "Yes, you'll make a fine toy, da?~"
Alfred yanked his jaw out of the man's hand and headed over to the mirror across the room to see more closely what the other – now, a figurative demon in his mind - had done to him.
His mouth gaped open as he saw his reflection for the first time since his metamorphasis. He tried to speak, but no sound came out so he was left gaping like a fish. He didn't know how it had happened, but he knew there was no going back to the way he was.
As he had seen earlier, his eyes were a dark shade of blue, and he was overly pale. But what he hadn't seen he didn't want to believe. His sunshine-blonde hair was now dark. Dark. No longer blonde, his hair was black. Not only that, but his once round ears now formed a little point at the end, blunt canines now inhumanly sharp, and the power he could feel spreading through his veins was making his head hurt.
This was not the picture of a pure Angel. This was something…darker. Just my luck, he thought, backing away and trying to mentally tell himself that he could undo this. That he would figure out a way to get home and everything would back to normal. I get away from a psycho bitch only to end up in the hands of a psycho bastard that decides to play God with my appearance…
"Fredka, come," Ivan commanded in English, and Alfred's head instantly came up despite how the other had tried to deny the instinct. One scientist looked more smug than the dejected others, and it was obvious who had won in the battle of the purse.
"It is time for us to leave now." Ivan let a wave of his power wash over the blonde, enjoying the fright on his beautiful features. His body ached to take the young man as he was innocent, yet tainted. It was a tantalizing combination that made the other's mouth water. He licked his lips and took the now newly changed being by his hand to the space where the door should have been.
Ivan stared at it briefly, almost in the time of a blink, and the space was open. Alfred's eyes were wide, but when he looked at Ivan and the scientists, he knew that they knew. They knew what he truly was. They knew what Ivan was. And they were going to do something very awful. Despite Alfred's futile efforts to get free from Ivan's hand, an Asian male stepped forward.
Alfred looked at them all, feeling the danger radiate from their skin and the look of sadism shine in their eyes. Whatever they were planning was good for Alfred. But Alfred already knew that. What didn't know what was going on or what was going to happen to him.
All he knew what that he had undeniably Fallen. More than that, he had Fallen to Ivan and he was going to be for a very long time.
Animaegon Notes: Gah! I swear work and school will be the death of me! I was lucky enough to get an entire day free from the two of them! Enjoy!
Bai-Marionette Notes: Sometimes, I wish I could update more often. Then I see my work and research papers, and go, "Oh. That's why."