Sorry I didn't update for, like, a month. I'll just chalk it up to the excuses everyone uses: school and laziness. Thanks for sticking with me!
Thank you to Bookworm213, mayim, and crazy YinYang writer7 for faving! You guys are awesome!
Thank you to betsybugaboo for reviewing! I didn't plan to put in any of the Nordics, but I think I finally have enough of their characters down to put them in a story. I won't promise anything, but I might. :) Thank you for your kind words!
I do not own Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidakaz.
They were at Francis' house again. Alfred nor Matthew understood why. Master Arthur never explained business to them. After all, it wasn't their concern which Master Arthur was sure to repeat as frequently as Alfred asked, which was a lot. Alfred hated being in the dark. Especially when it came to dealing with a rival owner, particularly Francis.
Matthew twitched nervously as the group sat in silence. Alfred offered his iconic, cheesy smile as an attempt to comfort the pale blonde, but Matthew only blinked his blue, almost purple, eyes and turned his attention back to floor. Alfred's smile faded as, frankly, it would be wasted on anyone else in the room.
The tension was tangible. Alfred and Matthew's master was sitting in front of them in the huge, padded chair that was stitched with blue and silver fleurs de lis.
The servants stood behind the huge chair. All of the hired help were dressed out in a monotone, dull red in order to further magnify the various shades of bright red that their master donned. Master Arthur himself was sitting cross-legged with his head propped up on his right elbow. He was gloating that was for sure. His signature green eyes sparkled with a harmonizing smirk.
Across a mahogany coffee table was Arthur's archrival well-nigh mirroring him in opulence but in his own color, blue. Francis stretched himself out on a couch patterned also with the fleurs de lis. He leaned against a throw pillow and held a wine glass in his offhand while staring up at the ceiling, more or less ignoring his guests behind furrowed, thin brows.
Behind Alfred and Matthew were the other two of Francis's once-servants. This made Francis especially livid because they were his best fighting vampires. The two servants were practically the only ones the Frenchman had left besides Matthew: the one they were assigned to protect.
Anyway, Francis had to sell many of his other servants when his constant sparring with Arthur's vampires physically drained them –making them thirsty all the time- causing him to have to either provide more blood for them or sell them to someone who wasn't always fighting. Blood was becoming too expensive to procure off his family's exhausted fortune so the Bonnefoy manor became more and more empty.
Francis was hopelessly in debt, and it seemed the absence of servants behind him testified to that very fact. Fewer pawns on the side of Francis was good for Master Arthur so, by default, his servants too.
Unlike most vampires, Alfred was born one. That gave him advantages that regular vampires, humans that were bitten, didn't have such as increased strength and speed. However, he was much more blood-dependent. He it needed more and needed it more frequently than regular vampires. It was the reason Martinique and Guadeloupe injured him in the way they did. If they bled, it was inconvenient. If he bled, it was dangerous.
Overall, natural vampires were much more rare and much more valued but not exactly cost-effective. Only the wealthiest owners could procure the necessary quantities of blood needed to sustain a Natural. After all, why go to all the trouble of managing one Natural when you could support dozens of regular vampires on the same quantity of blood? It was basic money management. Naturals were just to show off –trophies. That was the exact reason that Master Arthur chose to bring Alfred along whenever he went anywhere public, including now, despite how rude and immature he claimed Alfred tended to be. It was worth it if he could watch his contemporaries turn green with envy as he held a Natural under his thumb.
The grandfather clock ticked its elaborate, silver second hand as the two nemeses faced off in stressed silence.
"I'm in the mood for some tea. Francis, would it be offensive to ask Matthew to make us some, seeing as I wasn't offered any when I arrived?" Master Arthur jeered, as his blonde competitor gritted his teeth. He still refused to look at him.
Matthew instantly grew pale and dug his gaze to the floor as he tried his hardest to disappear. He was doing his best to avoid Francis's gaze since the moment they arrived. He knew the reason he was brought along was so Master Arthur could brag, but he desperately didn't want to be the subject of attention nor the subject of conflict –both of which he was becoming now.
The pale blonde looked up for just the fraction of a second his curiosity betrayed him and seemed to look up right into the pale blue eyes of Francis that conveyed anger and frustration all in that short instant. His eyes grew small as his gaze flew back to the wooden floorboards. Panic began to squeeze his heart.
"Continuer, Mathieu. Vous savez où je garde tout."
Matthew nodded curtly, and his curl bounced sharply as well as it dangled in front of his face.
He wasn't comforted by the familiar tongue as he thought he might. Actually, he had been starving to hear the sweet, light sound of French again ever since he'd been taken under Master Arthur's charge once more.
In Arthur's manor, it was against the rules to speak anything but English. Matthew knew English. It wasn't a problem. It was just, he felt like he had to repress half of who he was while doing it. Confining himself to one language was constricting, strangling even. He had nightmares that he would forget how to speak it if enough time lapsed before he heard it again. At least Martinique and Guadeloupe were there this time. Although, the two would only converse with each other in secret and in guarded whispers. They still considered Matthew pathetic and unequal to them.
Arthur was absolutely intolerant of the language even though Matthew knew he knew, if anything, how to understand it. Master Francis was just as, if not more, proud of his language, and he could be just as, if not more, stubborn about it too.
Matthew tried teaching Alfred the language, but the results had been disastrous. His poor brother still wanted to learn, but he was about as patient as a lightning bolt and as teachable as a brick wall.
Snapping back to reality, the once-curled blonde turned on his heel and made for the kitchen, almost tripping over his feet as he tried to leave as quickly as possible without breaking into the full-out sprint he so desperately wished to go.
Master Arthur picked some of the bits of fuzz that accumulated on his red velvet sleeve not even bothering to hide the sneer that tugged his lips into a toothy smile that rivaled the Cheshire Cat's.
Alfred was disgusted. This was a game to them. A sick and horrible game. Matthew wasn't even that strong of a vampire. Actually, he corrected himself that he'd actually never seen Matthew fight. He was just too docile and agreeable.
He was turned when he was little and had been fought over just like Alfred had by these two horrible men for years. The thing was, Alfred was very strong given his "privileged" birth. He could defend himself and avoid being caught up in the swirling torrent of capture and kidnap as proved by Martinique and Guadeloupe standing beside him. Choosing to stay with Arthur instead of Francis was easy. Arthur owned the bigger and more prosperous estate. And, from the way he heard things were going, Francis probably couldn't sustain his necessary blood intake. He would starve to death or be forced to seek a Den if he had to live in the Bonnefoy manor. Matthew, on the other hand, he had been tossed between these two bickering rivals since as long as either of them could remember.
It became a game of capture the flag and Matthew was the flag. Just like in the game, the flag itself had no value save for the fact it gave the other team bragging rights. Then it could be waved in front of the other team's face until the previous team could capture it back. It was a cycle. A sport. Something for these two bored aristocrats to entertain themselves.
But to Matthew, it wasn't fun at all. Alfred also had no enjoyment out of it. After all, he was the one that was used to retrieve the "flag". Not to mention that although he was easily stronger than Martinique and Guadeloupe, they knew how to effectively double-team him. Considering they fought so frequently, they had it down to a science. He honestly didn't know how much pain he had gone through to simply play his part in this horrible rivalry.
He still wanted to know why they were here though. Of course Francis knew that they had Matthew and his fighting duo now. It's pretty obvious that when your servants don't show up for a couple weeks that they're not simply late. Sure, there was the element of gloating, but there was something different about this. He wondered if it was because the servants, the pawns of the game, had stepped out of their place and took the game's fate into the their own hands. However, there was no way to tell for sure. And Alfred hated being left in the dark.
"Alfred, go help Matthew with the tea." Master Arthur said, as he waved his gloved hand at his loyal servant that stood stiffly beside him.
Alfred nodded curtly and followed Matthew, not wanting to let his newly reunited brother out of his sight in enemy territory. However, he was frustrated that he was kicked out of the room because Master Artie didn't want him to hear what they were about to talk about. Ugh.
Matthew jumped when he heard the kitchen door close.
"It's just me, bro." Alfred said, as he strode over to his one-curled friend.
They weren't technically brothers, but they had become instant friends when they first met as children. People said they looked enough alike to be twins, but the two boys didn't see it. Alfred had trimmed, golden-blonde hair and sky-blue eyes while Matthew had longer, pale blonde hair and blue-purple eyes.
They still joked that they were brothers though. It was a sort of comfort to think that they had family, someone always on their side, when their lives were as chaotic as they were.
"Hey, lets see if we can find some cooking stuff to bring back so you can make actually eatable food for us! That's half the reason I try to get you back when you're captured!" He teased.
"Is the other half-reason because you missed me?"
"No! The other half is that Artie's in an exponently better mood whenever he knows that he's bested Francy-pants!"
"First off, the phrase would be "exponentially better mood" not "exponently", and I could never steal from Master Francis, no matter to whom I belong at the moment."
"Oh, Mattie! You and your conscience. I'd steal from both of them if I were you! I'd bury it all in a hole somewhere and just blame it on the other guy! Then, when I'd piled up enough stuff, I'd run away and sell it all and live like a king somewhere! Preferably somewhere with a beach. And ladies. And lots of good food. You know what? I think I just might do that. You talked me into it! I talked myself into it! Do you know any places like that?"
Matthew laughed, "No. Not off the top of my head."
"Ha! Ha! Well, that's okay. It's not like there's anything good to steal in here anyway!"
"There's the crystal chandelier in the foyer? Although it would be difficult to walk out of here without anyone noticing you carrying it," he smiled, as he tended to the tea.
"I could do it! Somehow! If I put my mind to it!" Alfred cackled, as he imagined himself coming out of the mansion with a huge chandelier rattling above his head as he ran like a crazed maniac off into the sunset.
He was shaken out of his hilarious daydream as they both heard commotion in the living room.
"Stay here," Alfred said, as he left the kitchen to investigate.
Sure enough, the two masters were rolling around on the floor, knocking over everything in their path, as they tried to wring the life out of each other's necks. Francis was cursing in French and Master Arthur in his own heavily-accented English. Francis's two former minions were standing off to the side, every once in a while acting like they were going to help only to quickly back off as the tumbling catfight started to move in their direction. Alfred sighed as he dove right in and attempted to rip the quarreling "adults" apart.
"Look, guys, you need to settle the beauty contest later! Stop acting like children!" he groaned, as he managed to pry his master's hands off his blonde nemesis, but Master Arthur only started to kick now –only further confirming the comment about them being children.
Alfred now saw that Matthew had entered the fray and began to hold his old master back. Only then were the two successfully separated.
Deciding that the fight was indeed over as well, the two owners righted themselves and straightened out their outfits, both of which would need to be extensively repaired or possibly scrapped altogether.
"Thanks for the help, guys!" Alfred said sarcastically to Martinique and Guadeloupe who were half-heartedly helping their old master to his feet. They looked just as tired of the game as Alfred. He completely understood.
"Are we ready to go, kiddies?" The cowlicked blonde said perhaps a bit too loud.
Master Arthur glared at him and Alfred immediately regretted it. A fake smile formed on Master Arthur's face that, frankly, scared the crap out of the servant.
The red-garbed master turned to Francis and grabbed Matthew by the arm. Dragging him out the door rather roughly by his sleeve, he threw him into the carriage that waited outside.
Martinique and Guadeloupe also joined the two in the carriage while Alfred hopped onto the driver's perch and snapped the reins of the horse to urge it forward. The horse jerked and they were headed back to the Kirkland Manor.
The golden blonde was chilled as the wind started to pick up. He drew his legs up and was tempted to release the reigns. The horse knew how to get back by itself practically. He wasn't really steering anyway.
He wished he could hear the conversation that was happening in the carriage behind him, and he really wished Matthew could sit up here with him so he didn't have to face the entire ride back with Master Arthur staring him down. Then again, he also didn't want to offer to trade the pale blonde spots for the same reason.
When the Kirkland Manor rose to view on the hill, he grimaced. As cold as he was, he knew that, when they got back, Master Arthur was gonna give him a what-for for the stupid comment he said at the end of the fight.
Master Arthur was the master of holding grudges. He also considered himself master of justice. For all Alfred was concerned, it didn't matter what Master Arthur was because he was master of Alfred's life. He could already feel the hunger nipping at his being. He was going to need blood soon.
When they arrived, Master Arthur, still more or less dragging Matthew, went straight into the manor and slammed the door without so much as a word. Alfred had a bad feeling. Guadeloupe and Martinique followed quickly, this still being uncomfortable ground they treaded on. Alfred unhitched the horse and put it in the stable where he would have taken his sweet time if he didn't think something bad was possibly going to happen to Matthew.
He slipped in through a servant entrance in the side of the manor that opened into the kitchen. He hurried through there as the mere smell of Master Arthur's left over attempt at cooking made him wretch. When he arrived at the top of the stairs, he scanned the grand entry hall. No sign of them. He didn't care about Martinique and Guadeloupe. He needed to know where Matthew and Master Arthur were.
He knocked on the door of his Master's study that he was strictly forbidden from going in. No dice. He checked the library and the billiard room only to turn up the same result. The parlor was a long shot anyhow. It's not like he had any guests to entertain. The only choice he had left was the basement.
Alfred hated the basement. Honestly, it creeped him out. Master Arthur did some strange stuff down there that even his curiosity didn't give him the courage to do much snooping. Alfred went down there for one reason and one reason only: to get blood from the icebox.
He was starting to get tunnel vision from the dizziness and wobbled over to the icebox. Even though he wasn't injured, he still needed blood really often. He wasn't supposed to get blood for himself, but he couldn't find Artie. He was really close to passing out so he just decided to take the liberty.
He wasn't supposed to know where the key to the icebox door was either. It was right underneath the rug that was in front of the door. Come on. If his master hid it that horribly then he had all the right to use it if he found it. At least, that's how Alfred reasoned it.
He quickly opened the door and replaced the key. The icebox was actually more of an iceroom. There actually wasn't any ice in it either. It was like a really cold wine cellar sort of deal. In fact, the blood was stored in old wine bottles. He didn't know how Artie kept this room so cold, but he didn't question it. The cold brought him out of his wooziness just enough to where he could make out the labels on the glass bottles clearly. They were all categorized by blood type and kept in pristine condition like everything else in Mr. OCD's house.
The first few columns were A+ and that was usually where Alfred stopped. He didn't need to continue looking past his own type. Popping the cork with one of his fangs, he tossed it away and tipped the bottle up.
Normally, when he wasn't this close to fainting, he would let the bottle sit out a while and let it get a little closer to room temperature, but he didn't have that luxury now. His throat felt like icicles were scraping against it for being in the cold storage for so long. After downing nearly the whole bottle in a few gulps, he pulled the jug away from his lips with a pop as he gasped for air.
Aside from a massive brain freeze, he felt much better. Looking along the racks of blood, he was flooded with reminders of a childhood game he and Matthew would play when they were little. They would walk down the pitch-black hall and see how long it would take before one of them got too scared and decided to go back. They hadn't played that game in a long while. He smiled as he thought of the high-pitch squeals they would emit and imaginary monsters they would dream up that lurked the hall.
Acting on nostalgia, he decided to play again. Taking occasional sips as he went, he walked down the racks that went along the wall. He waited for his night vision to kick in as he started to get far away from the single candle that burned in the entrance. His night vision wasn't supreme, but it was slightly better than a regular human's or regular vampire's.
Thinking back on it, that was probably the reason he always seemed to turn back first. Mattie couldn't see anything besides darkness while Alfred saw enough to make out the shapes into some sort of monster. He shrugged off he memory as he continued down that dark corridor.
This room is huge! Alfred thought to himself, as it seemed the hall continued forever.
He looked over his shoulder and saw the candle in the entryway was just a small blip of light. He actually started to get a little nervous. The childish imagination that still ran around in Alfred's head was starting to play tricks on him again. He jumped several times at the echoing of his own shoes hitting the ground.
"Alfred! Where are you!"
The vampire practically wet himself as he heard the voice of his Master echo from…above him? He must have been below some sort of vent.
Not being sure if his heart would take any more scares, he turned tail and ran for what he could debate was his life. Who knew what monster could have been waiting for this exact moment to leap out of the darkness and pursue him? He flung open the entry door and slammed it shut, effectively sealing in whatever monstrosity his imagination created that chased him.
"Alfred! Was that you that slammed a door down there? Come upstairs! I have good news to share with you and Matthew~."
This was originally the first chapter I wrote that dealt with Alfred and Matthew and ect. The previous chapter was actually written much later when I felt I needed a better transition. Canada and America are my favorite Hetalia characters so there will be a big chunk of story revolving around them, but I plan to sort of toss around who the story focuses on. Right now it's the NA bros and England and France arc. The next few chapters will probably still be about them then I'll pass it off to another group. *cough* the Axis *cough* I have the next chapter mostly written, and it has lots of flashbacks to both when France and England are kids and when America and Canada are kids. Much of their arc will include flashbacks which will be sections entirely in italics so you can differentiate.
What's Arthur going to tell his underlings? What will happen next? Stay tuned! (Wow, that was corny.)
FYI: Because I'm almost finished with my RvB story, I'll have a little break where I can really work on this story if I need to. However, you guys know that I have another Hetalia story that is a sort of cross over with Avatar: The Last Airbender which, by the story stats, seems to be getting some attention still even though I haven't updated it in forever. If you guys are more interested in that story than this one, I can switch my attention appropriately (and will take no offense). However, this would mean that this one would go on hiatus until that other story is finished -just for my own sanity. Let me know what you think. If no one says anything, I'm just going to keep with this story until I finish it or face major writer's block.
Thank you for faving and alerting and reviewing! It is really appreciated!
Looking forward to it!