The Grimm Brothers Beilschmidt and Company

by DarkmoonSigel

First published on Deviant Art My novel length Hetalia AU of fairy tales and mayhem. Tons of different pairings. UsUk, PruCan, Gerita, Spamano, Rose Glasses, Geripan, DenNor, SuFin Mostly comedy, some smut in the later chapters If you like Disney fairy tales and twisted takes on them, then you should like this. Rated M for a reason.

10. Chapter 10

"All I'm saying is why the hell can't we take jobs someplace warm? I'm freezing my nuts and berries off here, dude!", Alfred complained long and loud as the companions trudged through the deep snows of a Swedish field under a low drowsy sun.

"We go where the work takes us Jones.", Ludwig grumbled, not enjoying the trek through Sweden's rough terrain either. It seemed he kept personally finding every damn hidden rabbit hole of neck breaking under the thick white blanket of snow. With this kind of coverage it forced them to lead the horses instead of riding them to their destination, making their progress arduously slow and a certain American's complaints more frequent. The German felt the bone gnawing cold as bitterly as everyone else but still deemed it that he had to set an example as leader.

"So why can't 'das work' be in Spain or Italy and not the butt ass end of the freaking moon?", Alfred asked lightly mocking the German's heavy accent as he shivered under his many layers, "This was so not part of your sales pitch for this job in the bar."

"Quite your bitching Arschloch. We promised you would get to travel the world, meet interesting monsters, and then get to kill said interesting monsters. We didn't mention anything about the damn weather.", Gilbert smirked nastily, not enjoying the cold either but found Alfred's obvious discomfort amusing.

"I think it's nice.", Matthew said cheerfully, perhaps the only member of the party who actually loved this type of climate, thrived in it. He breathed in the brisk air deeply with a sigh of contentment.

"That is because you are a frigging Canadian and live in igloos and eat beaver and shit.", Alfred grumbled, glaring at his jubilant twin. He squealed like a little girl when a snowball hit the side of his head, the remnants of it going instantly down his collar like all vengeful snowballs do.

"Lies. All lies. We do not.", Matthew grinned. He loved the cold weather. It made him feel nostalgic for his homelands of tundra and wild wood. It also gave him a rare opportunity to feel superior to his brother who was still fussing at him over the icy assault. Alfred basically shut down in cold weather while he flourished, becoming energetic and even a little cocky. Nothing like minus zero to bring out the smug bastard in one's own self.

"Ve~ I agree with Alfredo. Can we go somewhere nice soon? Somewhere with lots of pasta?", Feliciano whined, pressing his full lips to Ludwig's chilly ear, essentially igniting it with an instant fiery blush. The petite Italian was riding piggy back on his favorite German, his slender frame wrapped around his very self-conscious steed. After face planting repeatedly in the snow, Ludwig had deemed it necessary to carry the klutzy man if the party was going to make it to the town before nightfall. Despite already being flush to the muscular body that bore his weight easily, Feliciano somehow managed to snuggle up closer to it. Ludwig found his unknown calling in life by being the ultimate space heater powered by crushing embarrassment, constant Italian molestation, and raw, barely contained lust.

"The idiot's right. This Scheiße sucks.", Gilbert added his own two cents, made more bitter by the pair because his Canadian was a snow bunny, not a cuddler like his twin. Alfred wasn't too picky it seemed who he got body heat from either. He had tried to obtain it through Arthur, but had received a smack from the prickly Englishman for his efforts. Apparently, the former prince drew the line as being carried around. Part of him was regretting that now though as Arthur sunk thigh deep into a hidden pocket of snow again. He shot a glare at the swan prince who was currently stuffed in Alfred's coat, his sparkly head only peeking out.

"Like stop wiggin'. It's like not that bad.", Feliks yawned, quite cozy in his neck of the woods. Arthur seethed at the intruder, trying(and failing miserably) not to be jealous of the bedazzled water fowl.

"Belt up! You don't get a vote.", Arthur snapped, freeing himself from the clutches of the white deep once again to stumble forward.

"Like harsh dude. Don't be angry cause you can't be as totally fabulous as me or figure out the working end of a tweezers. Stress like that will like totally give you wrinkles. Well, more of them anyway.", the swan said in a bored tone of like totally not caring cause you are like so lame.

"What in the blazes are you suggesting?", Arthur yelled, turning on Swan Prince with a vengeance. Alfred threw up his hands quickly in defense, caught in the line of royal fire.

"Suggesting? Like as if.", Feliks rolled his eyes overly dramatic, "Says the man who can't even dress himself properly. A cloak? Like for realsies? Like totally gag me. Sooooooo last century. Get back to me when you have like discovered zippers and then we'll talk.", " Feliks sighed heavily as if the whole conversation was a trial upon his life. Arthur sputtered out bits of rage as he lunged at the swan that took off as Alfred ran away from him. The Englishman found himself caught mid waist by a cheeky Canadian feeling high on life(and cold weather)to be tossed over Matthew's shoulder fireman style. Arthur flailed against him, kneeing and punching at his captor to no real effect. He was popped in the ass sharply for his efforts.

"That's enough of that, eh. No killing the client.", Matthew grinned openly, the bright expression strange looking on the normally docile Canadian's face. It made him look more like his twin.

"Mattie! That wasn't nice. Don't touch my piece of ass like that.", Alfred pouted, returning to pat the still stinging part of the Englishman's lower anatomy.

"Would everyone quit touching my bum!", Arthur yelled, red faced in anger with a healthy dose of humiliated discomfiture, " And put me down already!"

"No. This is quicker.", Matthew said lightly, giggling to himself as he practically skipped through the snow in glee. Kumajirou ran along side him, enjoying himself greatly as well to occasionally snap at the dangling Englishman in play.

"He is a freak of nature, I swear.", Alfred shook his head, looking down at his own passenger, "You should apologize to him."

"Oh for the love of Madonna, what do you want from me? Blood?", the swan flopped against him, totally put out by the request.

"That would be nice.", Arthur glowered from his upside down position, trying to make the best of it. At least he wasn't sinking into any more holes.

"Hater. Totally a hater. I always knew it would be a burden to be this fabulous.", Feliks sighed dramatically. Alfred patted the swan's head in an attempt at comfort only to have his fingers nibbled at.

"Like watch the feathers. Air pets only homeskillet. It like takes too long to get this damn pretty.", Feliks hissed, fluffing up exaggeratedly. Alfred mumbled out an apology as he carefully resumed his air pets.

"Don't baby him, git!", Arthur yelled, hexes to cast later upon the glittering water fowl already running through his head.

"But he's like cursed and totally sad, boo!", Alfred said defensively, letting his valley show. The group stopped as a whole to glare at the American.

"Cease and desist! Alfred F. Jones do not even think about talking like that again. Do not make me punish you. I will do it happily.", Arthur stated firmly in a cool clear voice of violent intent.

"I'll be good.", Alfred said quickly, remembering the marmite. Feliciano started to cry for him, recalling it vividly as well. Ludwig sighed, reaching over his shoulder to pat at auburn locks awkwardly.

"We will go visit Rome and grandfather when this is over.", Ludwig told him. They needed to update the old Italian about their lack of progress in locating his missing grandchild and Feliciano's twin, Romano. Ludwig had made of point of asking about him whenever they paused in civilization. So far, there had been no leads to the missing Italian's whereabouts. Thankfully, Feliciano didn't seem too upset about it though, as far as he could tell anyway.

Ludwig breathed a deep sigh of relief as the tip tops of the town's roofs started to crest their view. Finally, they would get something done now and he wouldn't have to think about this sore topic anymore….for a little while as least.

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Ludwig, Arthur, and Matthew spoke with the town's leaders in their meeting hall which also turned out to be the town's tavern as well thankfully. It was overly warm and filled with too many scared people, but there was beer and food so the others sat back to wait impatiently for their task.

"I don't know why they get to do that. I can negotiate just fine.", Alfred complained, pouting as he laid his head on top of the table.

"Shut up. You can't speak anything other than idiot.", Gilbert sighed, glaring at his beer, feeling a touch bitter about being left out himself. Between the leading three of them, their linguistic skills covered most of Europe. The remaining three left a lot to be desired in that area. Gilbert claimed to speak Prussian which sounded an awfully like German to everyone else. Feliciano spoke Italian and possibly Cat, if his numerous conversation with felines were any real proof. Alfred only spoke American which was English with poor grammar and other language's words thrown in for flavor.

"Ve~ What is Doitsu talking about with those big scary men?", Feliciano asked worriedly around a big mouthful of food before washing it down with a gulp of ice wine. The Italian happily accepted his place at the kid's table(or anywhere for that matter) as long as he was fed. The fermented herring and boiled potatoes served with lingonberry jam was not as delicious as pasta but the ice wine was like summer in a bottle, all delightful sweetness with scented tastes of peaches and apricots.

"They are getting our assignment. The reason we are here…", Gilbert drawled out slowly for the Italian, "The reason we have been riding for days in the fucking cold and snow. That reason. What did you think we were doing here? Sight seeing?". The Italian stared back at him blankly.

"It is very pretty.", Feliciano shrugged, looking as confused as usual.

"Dumbass.", Gilbert muttered, distracting himself by watching Matthew. Ludwig and Arthur did most of the talking, the Canadian adding suggestions and reminders only ever so often. He did add a certain gravitous to the group with his eloquent presence though. A tall blonde dressed all in white holding a polar bear will tend to do that. The Prussian leaned on his arms, enjoying the view while visualizing what lay beneath those layers of soft white fur and leather. He was annoyed into paying attention to his dinner companions as Feliks poked his head out of Alfred's jacket.

"Like this is so boring! When do we get to do something?", the swan whined, nibbling at Alfred's hair in irritation with his beak.

"Hey there! Watch Nantucket!", Alfred yelped, shoving the talking animal's head back in his coat. They had decided to keep their odd client out of public view for various reasons, "Soon! They called us. We didn't come looking for work. That means they're desperate."

"Ja…no one likes calling us. We are a last resort when it all goes to Sheisse.", Gilbert sniffed, having a low opinion of most town's people in general. If the idiots would just contact them at the first signs of trouble, most situations could be resolved with little to no problems, but nein. Villagers had to wait until people got turned into goats or birds, children got kidnapped by pipers and witches, or some dipshit's hand got stuck to a goose's ass(it happened more often that you would think).

"But it's still cool cause we get to be heroes!", Alfred told the swan happily. Gilbert grunted noncommittally to that comment. It was certainly better than shoveling pig shit or milking cows. Better pay too but it was just a job. Nothing more, nothing less. People tended to view them as scum while at the same time begged for their help. It looked like this meeting was of no exception, the village's leaders and people regarding them all with an odd mixture of distaste, anxiety, and hope.

Gilbert sipped at his beer, ignoring them all in favor of directing his gaze back to linger on Matthew. The job definitely had some perks though, some very awesome perks. The Canadian felt the ruby stare on him again from across the room, shooting the Prussian a small smile and a subtle hand signal before turning his attention back to the proceedings.

"Danke Gott! They're almost done. Finish your food flake and get your game face on Jones. We are about to get down and dirty."

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"Why can't we ever go anywhere nice?", Alfred proposed again bitterly, trudging through more snow, dragging his sword petulantly behind him. The woods were too thick for the horses so the company was navigating through the elements on foot once again.

"Hush! We are supposed to be stealthy, you twit!", Arthur snapped at him in quiet tones.

"Like why?", Feliks asked popping his head out to speak overly loud.

"Why did we have to bring him? Someone remind me before I go round the bend.", Arthur growled, wanting to straggle the swan, his slender fingers itching to wrap their lengths around that slim neck.

"Because he is a client and we are responsible for his safety.", Matthew sighed softly. He found the swan just as irritating.

"And the hicks might think he lays golden eggs or something so we couldn't leave him.", Gilbert sneezed, bored already by all the un-awesomeness. Bring on the monsters. He hated all this sneaking around bull shit.

"Everyone shut the hell up!", Ludwig growled, managing to keep it to a dull roar. Between stopping Feliciano from singing and Alfred's and Gilbert's constant bickering over who was more awesome, his patience had dwindled down to his last damn nerve. The added bonus of a talking swan was starting to tap-dance on it. The German called a halt in an effort to regroup mentally.

"Pay attention! Arthur and ….um…..him(pointing to Matthew who rolled his eyes back at him, not really surprised) will scout out ahead. We will stay here and be quiet until they can establish the whereabouts of this beast.", Ludwig ordered. They had been hired to seek out and rid the woods surrounding the town of a beast who tended to make his presence known during the very heart of winter when the days were at their shortest. The villagers claimed they would hear strange sounds coming from the forest and smell blood on the wind from it. No one dared to enter the wood during this time of year, not even the bravest of hunters.

They had also been charged with finding a fair maiden who seemed to have fallen into the beast's clutches. A pale woman with short platinum hair had been seen from time to time in the presence of a great hulking figure that never left her side.

Typical destroy and rescue job really. Ludwig didn't see any problems arising from it, their greater numbers and skill giving them a definite advantage but it never hurt to be overly cautious. The only real issue was that the beast's lair was very deep in the wood, supposedly in the remains of an ancient castle. The villagers had not been very forthcoming about its location though due to lack of willing guides.

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Arthur and Matthew departed without a sound, returning within an hour to lead the others to a fort of some kind.

It was hardly a castle or at least a design that they recognized for one. A low rectangular building sat low in the ground, nestled in between ancient spruces and pines. It was obviously old but very well built and sturdy looking, made of earth and thick logs. Strange writing decorated its exterior and around its entrance way as smoke puffed out of an opening in its roof. It looked more like a long house or hunting lodge than a castle.

"Is this the right place?", Ludwig asked doubtfully.

"Of course it is! Follow us!", Arthur snapped, offended. The tracking skills and stealth of England were unmatched(at least in his own mind). The group pressed through the cover of the woods, rounding the structure to find old crumbling stone markers tangled in with evergreen growth. Against all reason, a single rose bloomed in the midst of the wide green foliage, full and fragrant like a velvet drop of ruby blood against a bed of thorny emeralds. It gave off a faint glow in the dull, forest shaded light.

"Well that's not right.", Alfred helpfully stated the obvious.

"Ja, no shit Arschloch.", Gilbert spat out, drawing his swords. Part of their mission was to make fertilizer out of this rose. They had been told that the plant was the rumored source of the beast's power and life. In his line of work, glowing plants were usually pretty bad and needed to be treated with extreme and very violent prejudice.

Before plant homicide could occur though, a moving shadow loomed over them all, followed by the more tangible flash of steel. Gilbert parried the crashed blow easily enough, tucking into a swift back roll to gain him some distance from his attacker.

It was a man, a very tall man in fact. One that dwarfed even Ludwig's and the twin's impressive heights. His hair was close cropped and pale blond, almost flaxen in color. He had high sharp cheekbones and a strong square jaw, bare of any scruff. His eyes were a striking blue green, polished cold stones more often found at sea than set in a face. Starling in their intense color alone, it was the severity found in those orbs that set him apart from mere mortals. The man's expression was force unto itself, a glare of truly impressive measure. It was grave and downright frightening, sending a slight chill up everyone's spine despite their resolve and training.

The man was dressed in heavy dark clothing dyed in shades of blues, a woven cloak belted at his tapered waist by a rough braided cord. The garb was almost religious in its simple design. The sword he wielded was not though. It was a long shining blade, monstrous in length and width enough so that even Ludwig doubted he be able to handle it, much less hold it up for any measure of time like this warrior was doing. The strange writing that was on the house graced the sword as well, running from hilt to tip.

The strange warrior faced them calmly, his sword held steady with his broad back to the garden, obviously ready to defend it. The team surrounded him, prepared to spring on Ludwig's signal at a moment's notice.

"STOP!", a high voice called out, "Leave him alone!"

No one moved as a small man practically tumbled out of the woods in his efforts to get between them and the silent guardian. The newcomer had fairer hair than the other, almost a metallic ivory in color and short in length. His features were soft and sweet, almost cherubic in nature. His effeminate features surrounded large, doe like eyes a strange shade of bright lavender and full soft lips. His form was delicate, almost feminine in shape with lean muscles and slender limbs. The robe he wore accentuated this, the snowy white garment clinging to all the right places, cinched at his waist and lower hips with a pale blue beaded sash.

"Who are you?! Who sent you?!", the man dressed in white demanded, his blue clad companion still having not said a word in offense or defense. His accent was odd as his eyes flashed openly with challenging anger. Ludwig had to give him credit for spunk despite the situation. His company were literally outnumbered the pair three to one, but they still stood firm before them. This made them incredibly brave, stupid, or confident in their own abilities, all of which were bad in their own way.

Ludwig signaled for the others to hold as he stepped forward, lowering his weapon slowly. The giant's eyes narrowed in warning, but he stayed in his stance, his sword point never wavering. The German's icy blue eyes lingered over their papal like garments and their general lack of monster-ness…well at least for the shorter man. The larger one was still on the 'maybe' category. That glare certainly didn't seem human.

"We were sent by the villagers, the ones just outside the woods….", Ludwig started, cut off by a loud sound of disgust.

"Those ignorant scum!", the smaller man swore, suddenly looking less calm as he spit his contempt onto the ground, looking ready to kill something now.

"T'no…", the giant rumbled out softly. Ludwig looked up at him surprise. He had been wondering he could talk. The being thus named Tino stomped his foot childishly to argue with larger man.

"No Ber! You know I'm right! They are always doing this to us! It's not right!", Tino snapped irritably before turning back to their company, "You are fools for coming here. It is not what you think."

"We have no feud with you or yours. We are here for a beast and a maiden in distress.", Ludwig supplied, waving the others to back off. Caution was a hunter's constant companion but so was intense observation. That and Ludwig's gut was telling him that these two were not a threat, to them at least. Tino looked less that amused as his face fell into a mixture of rage and disbelief.

"Damn it to Hel! They are calling me a girl now!", Tino cursed, balling his small fists to his side. He stomped up to the giant, ignoring the chilling aura the other was emitting to point his finger into his face or just about due to the severe height difference. "This is all your fault!"

To everyone's shocked surprise, the scary man's expression seemed to soften as a small smile graced his stony features.

"You might as well come with us. We'll explain everything and why this is a complete waste of both our times.", Tino growled, stalking off huffily toward the longhouse without a backward glance.

"Who are you?", Ludwig asked curiously, sheathing his own weapon, gesturing the others to do so as well. The giant mirrored the peaceful gesture, still watching them intently.

"B'rw'ld. I'm yaw b'ast.", Berwald told him in his gravely deep voice, heavy with accent.

"And the midget?", Gilbert sniffed, jerking a thumb toward Tino's retreating form.

"He's ma w'fe."

Ludwig suddenly had a very bad feeling that this cakewalk assignment was about to get horribly complicated.

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Upon entering the ancient longhouse, the company found it surprisingly warm and inviting inside despite its rough outward appearance. The interior gleamed with honey gold woodwork that practically glowed from its polished perfection from the huge circular fireplace in the middle of the wide open room. The effect was heightened by the whitewashed floors and soothing blue tile work, sparkling with cleanliness. Thick furs and soft cushions thrown over heavy, well made furniture completed the scene. The team settled in with horn cups filled with warm spiced mead served with dark bread, glistening with sweet cream butter.

"This is all quite lovely but what is going on?", Arthur asked, accepting the drink graciously from Tino. He would have preferred tea or something stronger and more scotch like, but good breeding made him go through the motions of politeness.

Ludwig nodded, sipping courteously at the sweet beverage as well, wishing it was beer, "Ja, who are you?" The others were not so cultured unfortunately.

Gilbert only drank it because it was hot, wearing a look of disgust on his face the entire time, and Feliciano was already telling their hosts about the glories of wine and all its benefits. The small Italian was also trying to wipe out the bread while doing so but Alfred was given him a good run for his money, the tall American's cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's with food and drink. Feliks turned up his beak completely, sticking with crusts of bread and snide remarks. Matthew forgoed it all together, choosing instead to study all the intricately carved detailing in the furniture and mantle.

After everyone was situated for better or worse, their strange hosts sat beside each other, Berwald's arm looped firmly around Tino's waist as if he expected one of them to make off with his 'wife'. Tino took it in stride with only a slight roll of his eyes, obviously quite used to that sort of treatment.

"This is Berwald Oxenstierna of the Bear Clan, whose people laid claim to the land of Sweden as their own.", Tino introduced, " I am Tino Väinämöinen…."

"Holy shit! Was that even English?", Alfred interrupted, having managed to swallow all of his foraged food without choking miraculously.

"No, It's Finnish.", Tino chuckled.

"Charmed, but tell us…Why is a snow elf living this far from home and with an enchanted mortal with a magic sword of all things?", Arthur smiled slyly, the others turning to stare at the fae, who was blushing now from all the sudden attention.

Gilbert grunted in appreciation, having not caught onto that. "Guess Eyebrows is good for something.", he thought, making a face at the mulled honey wine. Who did he have to screw around here to get some damn beer?

Tino fidgeted a bit, under the question. The Fin had been hoping to avoid telling the strangers their full story. It was kind of embarrassing. "I thought you might have the sight….it's a long story…" Tino sighed. Berwald shot a glare at Arthur, noticing his 'wife's discomfort. The Englishman managed to meet it without cringing too much as others shifted uneasily.

"Mein Gott! Here we go!", Gilbert complained, breaking the tension suddenly by flopping back in his chair, "Let me guess! Your both princes or something and you're both cursed! It's always got to be royalty! You'd think those dumb bastards would stop pissing off people who could turn them into frogs but nooooo." The albino was met with confused looks from both of Nords and many irritated looks from his own companions(one of them being former royalty and cursed).

"Please forgive the interruption and continue. He's an idiot.", Matthew intercepted smoothly, pointedly ignoring the Prussian's protests on the matter.

"Berwald is….was a Viking and the son of a chieftain….I don't know if that counts, but I'm just a harpist from the Frost Fox tribe.", Tino started again to no good avail it would seem, " No princes here…"

"Expect for me!", said a high childish voice from the rafters.

"I knew it.", Gilbert grumbled bitterly as everyone else looked up in surprise to see a small blonde who looked no more that twelve years old leap from his high perch. He performed a series of rather impressive and very unnecessary flips to softly land among them.

"Oh, this is….", Tino started valiantly once again.

"I am Peter Kirkland, the lost and last prince of Britannia!", the odd adolescent stated grandly. The company gaped openly at him. It was like seeing Arthur in miniature, right down to the bushy eyebrows with the exception of bright blue eyes for green ones. The preteen was dressed neatly in a suit of blue and white, a noticeably nautical theme to it. Gilbert and Alfred promptly took it upon themselves to fall over laughing(quite loudly), while Arthur grew a certain shade of anger red, the hue of it usually reserved for tomatoes and other fruit.

"Hardly you little prat! I assure you that that is not the case!", Arthur fumed, trying desperately to figure out how this annoyance was related to him if at all.

"Yes, yes. I know you are all in shock at my greatness. I tend to do that. I AM very impressive.", Peter preened, oblivious to the swirl of dark waves being emitted by the Englishman.

"Of all the …..! Now see here you little shite! You are not the last prince! You are certainly lost but not the last!", Arthur snapped at the boy, pinning him with an acid glare. To his surprise, he was met evenly with a pompous blue stare.

"How dare you peasant! When I come into my kingdom, I will see you punished. Thrown into the dungeons to rot I think or hung up by your thumbs.", Peter sniffed haughtily.

"Yup, he's related.", Alfred managed out, before returning to bouts of laughter. Arthur's jaw dropped, his fists clenched at his side in barely contained rage.

"P-peasant!? Peasant! Y-y-y…..I am the crown prince of Britannia and of the true blood, so sit your narrow arse down and shut it!", Arthur roared, looming over the kid, who stared up at him in disbelief.

"You!? You can't be!", Peter yelled back defiantly.

"And why not?!", Arthur snarled, ready to throttle the kid within an inch of his life. He was met with a look of total and utter distain.

"You're so plain and stupid looking. There is simply no way you are related to the likes of me. How dare you claim to be of my prodigious bloodline.", Peter scoffed. Arthur looked ready to smite something.

"I am the damn bloodline, twat! First off, you are claiming to be related to me, not the other way around. Secondly, I have the crest ring of Britannia worn only by its princes as well as the royal talisman which can only be worn by members of the immediate ruling family. What have you got, prat!?", Arthur spat out, producing the gleaming pieces of jewelry for appraisal.

"Those look new. Obviously fake.", Peter shrugged, unimpressed at he pulled out his own talisman, a worn piece of inscribed gold faded by time and handling.

"More like preserved.", Gilbert snickered rudely.

"Bloody hell! Now see here you insufferable…."

"Like oh my god! We totally get it! You're super old and you're super annoying! So bored now. Moving on!", Feliks cut through the argument with a mighty flapping of white wings, spraying everyone in the room with hot pink sparkles.

"But!"

"But!"

"Like NO! Not doing this! Way too much groddy eyebrow hair for us to handle! Like if you two don't stop wiggin out, I will totally break your arm with my wing. I'm like a swan. We can do that, like for real.", Feliks hissed, "I want to hear about the two love bugs even if one is like totally a major creeper. While we are on that for a hot minute-Hey tall, handsome, and scary looking! Like lighten up. You are like totally bumming us out here!"

Berwald blinked in surprise, partially because Feliks was being so straightforward with him, when others usually ended up just mumbling and wandering off. That and the fact a swan was berating him…..a very sparkly swan who was getting glitter on everything. He was going to be finding the stuff was months afterward.

"L'ke ma w'fe sa'd. 't's a long story.", Berwald mumbled out, watching Peter and Arthur pull faces at each other.

"Like wow. We are so totally having Tino tell us this. Like enunciate much?", Feliks rolled his eyes, gesturing with a wing at Tino, who shrugged.

"This is an old story…."

"Like we get that! Just tell it already. It's either that or listen to those two totally bitch and I am way too pretty to be dealing with all that hot mess."

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Berwald came to these shores with his people, brought on tides of surf and spray in long wooden boats. They were Vikings who ruled by right of might, brutal beings clad in leather and bone, conquering with iron blades and will. They landed here of all places, looking for respite from a storm at sea to find that this wood had fallen into evil.

Warped beings, dark and twisted, had opened a gateway to tear between this world and the next. They sought to drag life back through its obscene door kicking and screaming. In their absolute hate for all living things, it sought total destruction.

It killed the plants. The trees fought back though. In those days, spruce and pine could still move and talk freely. It drowned them in earth, locking it away with soil and root.

It sought to eat all the animals. The weaker ones fell, but there was resistance among bear, wolf, and fox. They were aided by crow and owl as well. Tooth and claw drew black blood and rendered flesh cold. The ravens did their part as well, collecting secrets from eyes and plucking memories for exposed brain matter.

It tried to destroy the land and the land fought back. It called man to its shore though they did not know it.

The Vikings were unprepared for this war shoved upon them in desperation but they fought. Brave men, giants with golden hair and eyes the color of sky and sea, stood against the darkness not because they had to. They could have run, sailed away to clearer coasts. They fought not for honor or treasure. They fought because they were impelled to, the wrongness of their enemies enough for them to force back the horrid night, back to beyond the borders of this world and the next for the good of all. The sacrifice of few to save the many.

They fought with iron.

They fought with flint and fire.

They fought with old magic learned from the blue lips of hanged men on trees, who existed between the gray borderlands of life and death.

With blood, rune, and blade, the noble dead pushed back the foul night from whence it came to seal it with bloom, thorn, and stone.

The deed was done with the remaining survivors being few in number. The price had been ever so great upon them. From the ravens, they learned that such things promised to return as sure as the seasons though.

It was decided that someone would have stay at the gateway, to keep it sealed until the end of time and fight the darkness if it should ever return. It would be a burden to carry with them always, a duty to fulfill with no end, and a fate some would view worse than death. A sword of unparallel power was forged to aid in this task, a blade that could only be wielded by the keeper for the Thorn's rose, the flower that bound the stone gateway shut with an enchantment as delicate as spider's silk but strong as diamond.

Of all that remained, one volunteered to stand alone though he was begged not to, being the son of the chieftain and future leader of the clan. His will was strong and his mind remained unchanged in the matter despite opposition of his men.

The son of the Bear Clan was bonded to the stones of the gate, his crimson essence the contract between this world and him to be its champion.

Berwald Oxenstierna was left to stand sentinel alone on the edge of infinity, a single eternal guard to fight the coming of endless night.

His sacrifice became story and his story became legend, but like all tales, it was turned and twisted in the winds of time until it was lost completely, forgotten from the minds of men.

The immortal warrior was abandoned, all alone in the never-ending twilight of the world's winter with only shadow and starlight as his constant companions.

But even in the shimmering cold of snow and frost, winter has spring to look forward to…

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Even for the endless, time manages to make its mark upon them. Patterns emerge over the course of decades, even centuries. Rituals become habit and habits become an immediate part of that person, defining that being as clearly as hair or eye color would.

Berwald kept a custom, one he performed every year without fail or exception. During the winter in the longest hours of dark, the old Viking would have to stand alert and ever vigilant. Sometimes he fought the beings who attempted to escape from their captivity. Sometimes he fought ignorant humans who were trying to get in for whatever reason. Most of the time though, he just waited.

Berwald waited for the coming of spring and then finally summer when the sun was at its pinnacle. He left his post then and only then, the gate closed to all during the summer solstice even to the likes of its own keeper. During this brief respite, Berwald traveled to the sea as was his want to do so, paying homage to the fallen as he had for uncounted centuries. He didn't know if his offerings and prayers were heard by the old dead but it gave him some sort of comfort, if not just in the familiar act itself.

One year though, something unexpected happened….

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Berwald walked down the pale strip of beach barefoot, staring out onto the chilly waves that never could keep the touch of sun in them as they lapped white frothed tongues hungrily against the sodden grains of sand. He had already made his tithe to it, giving the endless water his words and blood. He no longer shed any tears to it though. Berwald had not for a very long time now.

The raw pain of lost family and friends had faded to a dull throb to eventual nothingness. It felt like his soul was just ash now, carried around in the hollow of his body.

Berwald didn't cry.

He didn't laugh.

He didn't really feel anything anymore…

There was only his task and all it needed from him was to be.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Berwald walked the shoreline simply because he had done so before countless time, a path as familiar to him as his own being. He realized he had only heard the music because his body had lurched to a stop at some point in acknowledgment of it. It had been a long while since he had heard music other than the songs of birds and wind.

The sweet notes were faint, carried to him on the trailing fingertips of the salty ocean breeze. Like a scent to a bloodhound, Berwald followed it, going farther up the beach than he had ever gone before, drawn to the music by not only its sweetness but also by its aching sadness, each plucked noise a wound of the heart. It was like bitter honey of the spirit, light and coiling sweet with a bite of bitter sorrow. It was moving in it simplicity yet complex in it severity.

It made him curious.

It made the ash inside him shift and swirl, become warm again as it set fire to his soul.

It made him…

….feel.

Feelings made him hurt, a kind of hurt similar to a muscle that had not been used in a long while. It tingled and burned within him. Berwald frowned at the strange sensations as he moved quickly toward the source of it. If anything, to make it stop.

Or at the least make whoever play something happier. The piercing symphony was raw with bleak emotions, its musician's mental state skillfully bleeding through each bar emitted.

It seemed to be seeping from a cluster of high stones, weathered nearly white by elements and sun, set deep in the moist sand to connect the sea to the land. It was like a cave with no ceiling with its mouth empting out into the water, forming a natural enclave, the tall slabs of bleached stone set close but not flush. Gaps in between them offered limited sight within. Berwald peeked through one of these openings.

He froze.

At the center of the stone prison sitting on a pedestal of long dead coral was a being. Berwald did not presume to even think of it as human, the creature before him far too beautiful to be any mere mortal.

The individual sat naked, save for a harp of gold in his lap, his bare skin pearly white in the sunlight. It gave off a sheen of sparkling silver in direct contact with the morning's light as if it were covered with frost.

Platinum hair shone like spun white gold to hang over half lidded purple eyes, unfocused with crushing melancholy and ultimately boredom. The fingers plucking at the strings were small and delicate, childlike but skillful in their continuous dance. The relaxed form was all soft, elegant lines, curved and flowing like a rare flower, perfect in its repose.

Berwald had never seen anything so beautiful before in his life. He could have stared at this ethereal being forever and not notice the passing of a single second.

That particular notion was crushed when the harpist looked up suddenly to start screaming shrilly, falling off of his perch in an awkward flailing of limbs. Berwald blinked in surprise as he watched the man hide behind the rock, the top of his fair head only peaking out occasionally.

"Don't kill me please! I know he is unhappy with me and warned me not to but please don't hurt me! I'll won't ever do it again! I was just so bored and nightfall was taking forever!….", the man babbled, his voice high and light like a silver bell. Berwald felt something inside him melt at the very sound of it…until his muddled brain mentally processed the words being thrown at him in rapid succession.

Kill him?

Hurt him?

Berwald would hardly do that. The very thought of it made him physically ill. In fact, the idea that someone might even be actually considering this enraged the Swede who had really shitty timing. Just as his formidable glare deepened considerable to new and fearsome depths, the cowering musician dared to peek up at him. Berwald watched as the small male paled to an unhealthy shade of white, ducking back down again.

"Please, please, please, don't! I mean if you are going to, don't just stand there and torture me! Just make it quick!", the harpist yelled frantically. Berwald's brow drew up together tight in line of confusion. Why did this beautiful creature think that he was here to kill him? It was ridiculous! Berwald opened his mouth to tell him this…

….he stopped short….

When was the last time he had actually talked?

He couldn't remember. It had been so long. He had always been quiet even among his own people, believing one should not speak unless it improved on silence. After taking his post though, quiet had turned to mute. With no one around, Berwald had simply stopped talking.

The tall blonde tried to remember but found that he couldn't even recall what his voice sounded like, much less the words to put to use to it.

Berwald licked his suddenly bone dry lips, finding them chapped and rough. It only served to increase his own nervousness further. Something so simple, so basic, he couldn't even recollect how to do now. He shuffled his giant bare feet awkwardly, unsure of convey his feelings, his intent or lack there of. He was scaring the object of his adoration, so how to avoid that or at least assure him that he was not here to harm him?

Leaving was an option. Berwald could just return to his home deep in the wood and forget all about this. It wasn't like he could stay here much longer anyway, a day or so at the most. The idea of walking away now though made the pit of his stomach roll heavy and hot with new and unfamiliar emotions.

But he had a duty…

Berwald turned to walk back down the beach, his head bowed.

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Tino ventured a quick look over his rock to find the scary monster gone. The giant that had been blocking the gap had disappeared just as suddenly as he had appeared, his hard unblinking eyes removed from sight.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Tino shivered, wondering dully if this was all part of his plan. To draw the harpist out of hiding from behind his rock…..which was in the middle of his cage and provided no real defense whatsoever. Tino sighed in disgust at himself. He should be welcoming this assassin, not hiding from him. Finally that damn merman was tired of him and would release him from his captivity and boredom…permanently.

Tino pulled himself back onto the rock, worn satiny smooth from him residing on it. He wondered if the monster would return any time soon or was sent as more of a warning. Tino really hoped he wouldn't be drowned to death but knowing that sadist bastard Denmark, he had probably ordered something awful for him. He would be lucky if it was something as simple as drowning.

"It's not bad enough he's kidnapped and enslaved me, but he has to make my death a joke too.", Tino sighed, his eyes burning with angry tears. A soft sound caught his attention, making him crack his eyes shedding silver paths down his pale cheeks. The gap was filled again, the dark fiend back. Tino gritted his teeth, his mouth sour with fear. Taking a deep breath, the Fin made himself remain still upon his perch. He would face his death with pride and dignity, no matter how horrible the dealer was to him. Tino watched as the dark creature crouched down to push a large seashell through the gap.

Poison…

Really?

He was expected to do the deed himself? How like the hateful merman. Tino got up wearily, shuffling forward in slow, careful steps. He looked up to find the man gone again. It was truly eerie how silently the creature could come and go unnoticed. It only served to prove his earlier assumptions of his profession and intent were true though.

Tino arrived at the shell to find not poison but…

….flowers.

The pale shell was filled to its brim with little summer blossoms of blue and white. Tino poked at them tentatively, having not seen flowers in a long while. None grew in the sand and only the occasional wind blown blossom fell upon him. These were a rarity that were treasured more preciously than jewels to him. Using his magic, Tino pieced the blossoms together until they formed a chain. He looped his new delicate jewelry around his wrist snugly, enamored with the fragrant blooms. His fawning was interrupted though as the finer hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end.

Tino felt the glare upon him even before seeing it. Despite his earlier resolve, Tino fell backward to scuffle away from the beast. He almost made it back to his rock when he noticed a second shell being pushed through, this one filled with oozing slabs of broken honeycomb, sun warmed and fragrant. Tino cast nervous glances from golden sweets to the still crouching figure, swallowing hard.

When was the last time he had had actual food and real sweets no less? Denmark's servants fed him fish and seaweed, while his meager magic turned salt water into fresh, but his diet left a lot to be desired in taste and variety.

Tino's fingers itched to snatch it all up. The monster fidgeted, seeming nervous in the action for whatever reason. Tino decided to stay where he was, well out of reach. If he was going to be killed, he certainly wasn't going to make it any easier for his murderer.

The sound of liquid drew his thoughts of demise elsewhere as a third shell was pushed through the gap. It was filled with a sparkling liquid like molten gold. It smelled heavily of rich spices, tart sweetness, and high alcohol content. Tino's mouth watered, his full lips parting in want.

"Fuck it. If it's poison, I'll die full and happy.", Tino sighed, getting up again to end the distance between them. He froze in surprise with the monster emitted a hurt sound like the Finn's words had actually wounded the assassin somehow. Though he wasn't about to apologize, Tino seated himself to accept the makeshift cups.

The drink and food were gone before he even knew it, Tino even going so far to lick out the shells. Never had he tasted anything so delicious. Tino sighed sadly at the end of his first real meal in years, his violet eyes alighting on the still figure watching his every move. The shadowy creature just sat there, the blue green of his baleful glare the thing really visible about him.

"So I am allowed a last meal then?", Tino asked it finally, uneasy with the silence. The creature shifted uncomfortably, revealing the glint of a weapon at its side, a sword with a hilt of pale bone and a pommel of heavy silver. Tino made himself rise, moving forward until he was pressed against the gap flush. The Finn offered his hand though it, the tiny flowers still wrapped around his slim wrist.

"Aw. So there it is. Come on then. Strike true then fiend. Let's make this quick. I won't beg even if you want me to.", Tino sighed breathily, letting his senses enjoy his last few moments. The way the sun warmed his icy skin, the grains of sand shifted beneath his feet, the scent of the salt air that tingled his pert nose. He tilted his head back in a silent goodbye, his eyes locked on cloudless blue sky. Yes…..this was a beautiful day to die.

The blow came….

Soft and all encompassing…..

As Tino fell over, blind…

…covered in a dark blue cloak.

Tino scrambled up from under the heavy garment to stare down at it with wide eyes. He had not been allowed clothing since the start of his captivity, Denmark liking the look of his bare skin. The cloak almost felt surreal in his fingers now. He gaped up at the monster unsure of him or anything now.

"I-is this for me?", Tino stammered. A motion suggested a nod. Tino squinted against the shadows that played havoc with the creature's outline as the Finn tried to make out his company.

"Move around to the other space in the wall and into the light.", Tino told him, suddenly feeling very unsure of a lot of assumptions as he wrapped the cloak around himself. It covered him completely with material to spare. Tino didn't need it for warmth. His frost fairy aspect was immune to all manner of weather and cold. The option of clothing was comforting though. The cloak was rough against his skin, the homespun coarse and smelling strongly of cedar, earth, and not unpleasantly of musk. It did not smell of blood, something that Tino would expect of a killer's.

Tino watched as the monster moved from the shadows and into the light to become a man, a tall muscular blonde with short cropped hair and bare feet dressed in a long sleeved tunic and leather breeches dyed dark blue in color, his high boots tucked into a wide leather belt at his side. On his other side, he carried a long sword nestled in a heavily scarred scabbard. The harsh expression on his face softened as sunlight fell over it, revealing high cut cheekbones, a solid jaw, and thin lips. Glasses perched on the end of an elegant straight nose with bright eyes hiding behind the lens, a startling greenish blue in hue. The teal orbs regarded the Finn gravely, the expression neutral and a bit stony. The man looked very serious but he certainly didn't look like a killer. Tino certainly hadn't expected him to look so handsome either….

…..you know if you were into tall blondes of with god like physiques of muscular perfection and legs that went on forever…..

…..which he totally wasn't…..he just couldn't help noticing…

…..um….

…yeah….

"Who are you?", Tino asked confused, clutching at the man's cloak as he mentally tried to right himself agian. Human did not come to these shores. Denmark saw to that. The merman sank any vessel that dared to enter his watery lands. He watched as the giant licked his lips, working them uselessly to result in nothing.

"You can't speak?", Tino filled in tentatively. The blonde's cheeks reddened in embarrassment as he hung his head in very apparent shame. Against all odds with himself and his seriously messed up libido, Tino caught himself smiling. The man was just so large and awkward…awkwardly cute. He was like the bears Tino had seen back home in Finland coming out of a long hibernation, all fuzzy and clumsy.

"So you won't speak?", Tino teased, tilting his head to the side to regard his company with a slight smile. The tall man swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing wildly in his personal desperation. He stared down at his rough hands, looking helpless and so oddly endearing. Tino felt a giggle well up in him, working to force it back down again as naughty thoughts ran through his head. What was the saying about men with big feet and hands…

"For what it is worth and in payment for your kindness, I give you my own name. I am Tino Väinämöinen of the Frost Fox tribe, bard to the fairy courts of Winter.", Tino said smiling brightly up at the man. The giant's pale cheeks exploded with instant crimson, his eyes wide. He looked scared and enthralled all in the same moment. This time, Tino couldn't control his laughter, the noise light and sweet as it poured from his throat.

"So I take it you are not here to kill me then.", Tino ventured, running his fingers through his hair in stress relief. The silent man vigorously shook his head, looking outraged. Tino was please someone else besides himself was against him dieing in an untimely and violent manner.

"So what are you doing here?", Tino asked him curiously. The man pointed to the sea, then to the woods that lay beyond it, and back again.

"You came here…..oh Perkele, this has all been coincidence?", Tino guessed. The giant mimed playing an instrument before pointing to the harpist himself.

"Oh! You heard me!", Tino realized, before berating himself. Of course, it was the most obvious answer. He had just jumped to the conclusion of killer. Tino wondered if boredom had finally rotted his brain. It had certainly reeked havoc on his common sense.

"Sorry about that. I am only supposed to play at night.", Tino said bitterly, watching as the giant tilted his head in obvious question.

"For my master.", Tino spat out in disgust of the word, " A vile merman who goes by the title of Denmark. He has kept me here the gods' know how long. You really aren't safe if you were deciding to stay near these waters. Denmark doesn't like humans. He crashes any boat that comes near this beach and drowns its crew.", the Finn watched as the man's expression turned very dark, its focus on the sea. He drew his sword, a shining blade of bright metal, deep runes carved down it's length from tip to hilt, his meaning crystal clear as he held the weapon high overhead. Tino raised a pale eyebrow, impressing by it. Not many would be able to wield such a massive sword, fewer still to hold it that high or that steady.

"He won't be back anytime soon. Denmark only comes on the full moon to make me play for him.", Tino sighed, "The gesture, as futile as it is, is appreciated though.". He would love to see the merman gutted and laid out to bleed the last of his life onto the sand. Tino watched as the man deflated somewhat, choosing to stare at the sea with obvious malice. He turned back after a while to stare down at Tino, who managed to avoid cringing under the harsh gaze. The man could not help his face.

The ensuing quiet did unnerve the Finn though. "Would you like me to play for you?", Tino offered. He wouldn't mind playing for him. It would be his first willing performance in a long time. The giant shook his head though, gesturing instead to Tino to the woods and back again.

"Out? You want to know if I want out?", Tino mused, "Yes, I would give anything to be out, but the stones are enchanted and Denmark's servants prevent me from leaving by sea." The giant seemed to consider this for a moment before motioning for Tino to stand back.

"There is nothing you can do. These rock are magic.", Tino explained sadly. The man just set his thin lips in a grim line, motioning again for the Finn to move back. Tino rolled his eyes at him, knowing from experience how useless the gesture was.

"You are just going to hurt yourself…..", Tino started to lecture, taking a seat on his rock. A bright flash of silver cut his retort short as his jaw dropped. A thin line formed like a bleeding wound along the prison's wall, the bleached stone sliding off and over to fully reveal the blonde giant who stepped over the shattered boundary, his sword humming with power. He sheathed his weapon with a look of triumph as he offered Tino his hand. With shaking fingers, Tino slipped his smaller digits into the offered palm. Though heavily callused and rough to the touch, it was warm and held his hand gently.

"Am I to go with you then…?", Tino asked stunned, "Am I to be your slave? I did offer anything to leave this place.". The giant looked down at him in surprise, shaking his head. His pale cheeks were crimson again, his gaze shy. Despite his precarious situation, Tino found himself drawn to him.

"What am I to do then?", Tino asked, real freedom feeling so odd to him now that it was so readily thrust upon him in a moment's notice. He was still weak from his captivity. If he left on his own now, he would be easy victim to capture or something worse. Tino studied the man before him who still held his hand as carefully as if it were made of glass. A giant of a man with a magic sword, a strong man…

"I have no where to go….", Tino said softly, deliberately leaving the sentence open and hanging as he placed his other hand atop the blonde's, clutching at it with both of his own, drawing the captured appendage to his lean chest. He looked into brilliant teal eyes with his own wide tear stained violet orbs, his lips parted ever so slightly.

The giant seemed to stop breathing for a moment, looking very much like a fear frozen deer. Tino wondered if he had over done it a bit in his desperation. He eeped in surprise, the Finn suddenly scooped up to be held close. The blonde managed a shrug, before tapping his chest hesitantly.

"I can go with you.", Tino murmured, not bothering to make it a question. He relaxed languidly in the arms that held him light as a feather, the giant only pausing to retrieve the Finn's harp. With his prize in his arms, the tall man strode down the beach, his feet eating ground to return home quickly. Tino tried to convince him that he could walk just fine, to have his requests silently ignored.

"I still don't know who you are.", Tino huffed, attempting to wiggle down again. Strong arms adjusted their hold on him easily, the Finn's motion to walk denied. The giant kept traveling for a bit, chewing his bottom lip in thought at the smaller man's comment. Coming to a decision, the blonde stopped so abruptly, Tino nearly dropped his harp in surprise. He turned to snap at his liberator, pausing at the intense look on the blonde's face, his thin lips parting slowly in deliberate thought and action.

The voice that came from the silent man was hoarse. It was rusty from lack of use more of a croak than an actual tone, the inflection of it harsh.

It was the most beautiful sound Tino had heard in a very long time.

"Ma nom 's B'rw'ld, w'fe."

"…"

"…"

"…..Wait! What!? Did you say wife?!"

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"So…..Let me get this straight….", Gilbert said slowly, after a long moment of silence as Tino finished his tale, "…That rose….that rose out there…that glowing weed is the only thing holding back a hell gate?"

Berwald considered the question thoughtfully. "Ja.", he nodded calmly, though he didn't appreciate the Thorn's Gate rose being referred to as a mere weed.

"And it's not the source of your immortal life….at all." Gilbert continued, looking out one of the low slit windows curiously, the cursed patch of land in his view.

"Nej.", Berwald frowned, becoming a bit irked now. The Prussian, though amusing in his absurdity, was starting to merrily tap dance beyond the borders of rude and into the realm of insulting, "Ma contract 's w'th the mamma earth 'tself."

"So….Hypothetically….If say a mob of angry villagers with torches and pitchforks decided to , I don't know, burn it….that would be a bad thing, right?", Gilbert asked bemused, tapping his fingers across the frosted glass to knock off some of its icy film.

"V'ry Bad.", Berwald grunted. Tino rolled his eyes at the master of understatement.

"That is putting it lightly. It would be hell on earth. Dark beings of pure evil would come pouring out of the gate to kill every living thing in their path. You would have to be a complete idiot to even be considering it. Why do you ask?", Tino corrected with a snort. Gilbert straightened up slowly, nodding to himself, a grave expression on his face.

"Cause there is a mob of angry villagers with torches and pitchforks coming this way.", Gilbert shrugged. There was a brief tense pause held in the air from all present before the room erupted into a flurry of movement and lots of cussing in many various languages, mostly at the Prussian.

"How the hell was that hypothetical?!", Arthur snapped, shooting the albino a nasty look as he shouldered his quiver of arrows.

"You have no idea what that word means, do you?", Matthew groaned, wrapping the palms of his twin's hands up in thin strips of leather quickly, Alfred returning the favor. Super strength did not mean invulnerable.

"Nein, but it sounded good.", Gilbert grinned nastily, "Let's go bust some hick's heads in."

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The company and Nords(even Peter much to Arthur's chagrin) practically piled out of the doorway, racing toward the back of the long house at full speed. They arrived just in time to see a torch being flung into the evergreen briar, the cold dried network of flora going up like kindling.

Tino barely managed to keep Berwald from diving into it to disperse the flames as Arthur called up some rain to put it out. Aided by a helpful sleet charm, the flames were extinguished, but the damage had been already done. The last crimson petal fell from the heat withered bloom, turning to crumbling black soot at it touched the frozen scorched ground.

A moment of tense silence was held as Berwald turned to face the villagers, who had drawn back to the edges upon seeing the hired company accompany their sworn enemy.

"Run.", Berwald told them, his face and form stoic though his tone lingered with sadness.

"Run?! Why would we run now, ya beast!? We can finally rid ourselves of ya now that your power is gone!". one of the braver villagers shouted, shaking his makeshift weapon of farming at the tall Swede.

"Warned ya.", Berwald shrugged, dismissing them as he turned to the gate, drawing his sword. The impromptu spokesman cringed at the sound of the metal silkily leaving its confines, whispering deadly intent. He practically cowered upon discovered a very angry Finn upon them, who didn't resist the urge to pelt them with hail.

"You idiots! You dumb stupid bastards! Why would you do that!? We've never bothered you!", Tino yelled at them, red faced with anger as the villagers fumbled for a reason among them that wasn't just hearsay and rumor, while trying to take cover. Their excuses writhed and died on their lips under the frost fairy's winter glare. "You all deserve what is coming to you.", Tino spat at them, before turning on his heel, leaving them to wonder amongst themselves of what he was talking about.

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Ludwig ignored the villagers entirely, more focused on Arthur and Matthew who assessed the plant's state of demise. The pair was aided unnecessarily by Alfred who's lack of skill in horticulture led to the demise of even fake plants.

"C'mon…it's not dead dead right? It's only like mostly dead.", Alfred said hopefully. He poked at the plant, insistent about its state of life(or lack there of). The bush promptly keeling over with a death rattle.

"No pet. It's just dead.", Arthur glared, leaning over to study the remnants of the plant Alfred had somehow managed not to destroy with his presence.

"Shit man! This is super bad! What the hell are we going to do!?", Alfred freaked out as he started to pace.

"Kesesesesese!"

Alfred stopped long enough to glare at the Prussian who lit a dark hand rolled cigarette with a look of extreme amusement.

"What the hell are you laughing about dickhead? You think this is funny?!", Alfred snapped. The albino rolled his lean shoulders in a lazy shrug as he leaned up against a handy tree.

"I dunno Jones….kinda. I mean it's not like we are some of the most famous monster hunters in the world or anything. Or have swords, skill, luck, and ravishing good looks…..well, not you at least. Or super strength. Or magic users with us.", Gilbert mused, studying the smoke pouring from the end of his lighted tip, flicking ash from it.

"B-but we are and have all those things…", Alfred stammered, his adrenaline finally calming down enough to grasp certain things.

"Well Scheiße, I guess we are just going to have to kick some underworld ass then. Sound good to you Arschloch?", Gilbert smirked, showing off his sharp canines. A wide grin grew across the American's face, his sky blue eyes glittering with excitement now.

"Bet you a gold piece I kill more of them than you do.", Alfred challenged. The albino raised a thin pale eyebrow at him.

"Fools and their money are soon parted. I'll see that bet and raise you double.", Gilbert scoffed openly, "You can just give it to me now and save yourself some time. I don't mind taking it from idiots or off of corpses."

"If you two are done comparing dick sizes…", Arthur began.

"No contest there either.", Gilbert chuckled to have the Englishman roll his eyes at him.

"….I may have just thought of a way to save us all."

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Arthur quickly explained to them his plan as he started to draw a complex incantation circle around the plant's charred corpse, his dagger cutting deep furrows into the hard earth with one hand as his other followed behind with pure white chalk. They were joined by a nervous Tino, who fidgeted his glances continuously going back to the tall Swede whose sole focus was upon the gate. The broken grouping of stones were shifting on its own like a tired old man getting up, the heavy blocks of ancient rock sliding up one another slowly to piece together a complete entryway.

"This rose has been part of an enchantment for centuries, a living part of a spell. It's root system runs deep into the earth.", Arthur explained to a ring of blank stares, "Don't you understand? It is all still there. All we have to do it grow it back. Once that happens, the hell gate should close again."

"Will that actually work?", Matthew asked tentatively.

"Think of it all as a circle that has been broken. All we have to do is replace the piece that is missing and the spell should snap back into place…..that or we will at least have roses for our funerals.", Arthur sighed, finished his work with a flourish. He gestured for Tino to come closer, "I will need your help to do this. I would prefer three to work this though. It's a better magical number, but that is neither here or there I guess."

"Then I will just have to do my royal duty even if it does mean lowering myself to work with you jerk.", Peter said loudly from behind Arthur, making him jump.

"You?! What in the sodding hell can you do?", Arthur snapped, glaring down at the preteen, "Though on second thought, the demons can waste their time eating you first. Might even choke the buggers or at least annoy them to death."

"Obviously I am a magic user extraordinaire. Marvel at my wondrous skill!", Peter stated grandly, as he did a couple of weird spins to be suddenly dressed in bright red armor and an oddly shaped helmet. His gauntlet popped off all by itself to lightly hit Arthur in the head, the blow barely enough to ruffle his hair. Peter tried not to look too embarrassed as he walked over to retrieve his gauntlet(it was hard considering Gilbert and Alfred were laughing their asses off).

"Brilliant. I take it all back.", Arthur said flatly in a bone dry tone, "You are just not useless. You are completely and utterly useless."

"But he does have the gift.", Tino said soothingly, as Peter changed back a little deflated.

"As meager as it may be…." Arthur snorted, feeling quite superior at the moment.

"He's all we got.", Tino stated firmly. Arthur's shoulders slumped as he came to the same realization, his options very slim with their present company.

"Bugger. Take a corner and try to keep up.", Arthur growled, pointing to a triangle's corner within the circle. Tino took the other indicated corner with Arthur, completing the set.

"Keep them off our backsides kraut.", Arthur told Ludwig, "This might take a while." The German nodded silently, noting the level of stress in the usually calm Englishman's voice. If there was one thing Arthur was confident it was his magic. If he was nervous about this spell, the last thing he needed was a physical threat.

Arthur jumped in surprise for the second time that day as a kiss was pressed to his temple. He looked up at his American, who grinned down at him. "Good luck babe.", Alfred laughed, already bouncing from foot to foot impatiently. Arthur couldn't help himself from smiling. Alfred looked like a kid waiting for Christmas morning to arrive, not a warrior facing off against a demon horde.

"I don't need luck git. I've got skill.", Arthur countered, turning back to the others, "Alright boyos! For the kingdom and all that shite!"

The trio began to chant, the lines of the circle sparking to a bright glow as their voices mingled harmoniously. Green energy infused the lines of the circle from Arthur as it was bordered by purple from Tino and bright blue from Peter.

The three lost themselves to the working of the spell as the rest of the world faced away from them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
Ludwig nodded his silent approval upon seeing the circle start to work, the tri color glow of it casting odd shadows about the trio as the air crackled and popped with power.

"Jones, Bruder, …..you…form a perimeter around them. Let nothing in at all costs. No need for restraint. Send them all back to hell in pieces.", Ludwig ordered, drawing his own sword. It was a heavier weapon than the light pair of scimitars that Gilbert dual wielded, made of dully colored steel, the handle wrapped in braided black leather. It had been given to him by Germania himself when he had deemed Ludwig sufficiently trained. Like all great weapons it had a name, though few knew it. Herr Schtick was a formidable sword.

The German joined the giant Swede at point, a position that Berwald had already designated for himself, ready at the gate's front. Red light and foul smelling mist already poured from it as its mouth yawned wide. Whispers seeped from moving shadows as the world around them shuddered in remembrance of a nightmare only half remembered in waking.

It was coming.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO
The townspeople shuffled like cattle as they watched the hunters they had hired work with the Beast and his Beauty. Some more oblivious people muttered angrily about this and stomped their feet while others trembled refusing to break from the group despite their rising fears. Something in the air made them cower together. A heavy feeling, one that most left behind in childhood crawled over their chilled skin again with clammy tendrils.

The feeling of waking up in the hour of the wolf, deep in the secret heart of night to feel eyes upon you even though you know….think….that you are alone. You in your panic hide under thin sheets, pulling your toes out of harm's way, a thin layer of cotton your only armor as things move beneath your bed(you know they do, you can hear them, that strange dry scraping sound….like breathing…..).

That feeling.

And it makes you feel stupid when you wake up to greet the dawn's light, feeling silly but grateful all at the same time.

…..But there is no sun's rays to save you here, only torchlight that seems small and insignificant, casting more shadows than visibility. The night has never looked so deep before or more dangerous, its velvet softness a bitter lie.

They shuffle closer together, pressing cold sweat coated flesh flush with one another because fear like misery loves company. The Beast had told them to run. Something is working into the back of their collective minds that he had not meant from him.

The tall man in blue with the old eyes like glaciers has his back to them, facing the old broken gate of stone, that is not in ruins anymore. It is glowing red sickly light that practically oozes out of its crevices. Mist starts to cover the ground, hiding their feet from view and it stinks.

It smells of blood that has been set out to spoil, clotted thick and dark.

It pongs of pain, the odor of sweat and tears dripping off of strained skin as it is cut away from live quivering muscle.

It reeks of horror filled with the clicking of sharp enamel and claws on hard surfaces.

The monsters are real…..all of them. The lies they have been telling themselves to go to sleep at night shatter like glass in their minds.

There is a reason why people are afraid of the dark and why prayers have the words "if I should die before I wake" written into them. Some don't pull their toes to safety in time.

There is something moving in the mist…..

…and it is hungry.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
The screams of the villagers make the company and Berwald flinch but it can't be helped.

"St'y.", Berwald tells them calmly, "Scouts. Weak. Can't travel too f'r.

"Everyone get ready.", Ludwig warned, crouching low to center himself, his ice blue eyes tracking over the deceivingly soft waves of rolling white.

"I hate to point this out with us about to die horribly and all….", Alfred drawled out curiously, the American being oddly observant at the worst possible times, "…..but where is Feliciano and Feliks?"

Ludwig felt his stomach drop painfully fast as his head whipped around, trying to locate the pair. The Italian and swan were no where in sight or within earshot(Feliks never shut up and Feliciano tended to sing if left unattended too long).

"Scheiße!", the German cursed, failing to find the pair. He racked his brain, trying to remember the last time they had been altogether. Feliciano tended to follow him around like an over affectionate puppy so he had just expected him to be near by. He had to find them and quickly before….

At that moment, the gate flew open and all of hell poured through.
-

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
The creatures coming out of the gate were of all different sizes and shapes in shades of red with blackened edges and accents. The tallest towered even over the Swede, their gangly arms ropey with muscle that dragging on the ground from their weight. Other smaller beings were wicked fast with sharp, razor like claws that shredded skin as they passed. Each was a world of horror unto itself, the only common unifying factor among them. They were covered in strange patches of skin that looked pieced together, different sections in various shades and even different textures. It took a minute for Ludwig to realize that it was the remains of the demon's victims, worn as trophies, clothing, or both. Some of them still had faces, to stare back void at them.

There were flyers as well that took to the air filling the night air with ugly noises. Ludwig eyed them warily, above threats some of the worst. To his surprise though, the flyers were promptly taken down, the indigo sky filled with a symphony of feathered wings and the marked calls of owls, crow, and raven. Though the trees had gone to sleep in an effort to forget, the animals had long memories. Ludwig heard others moving about them, saw flashes of furred hide in starlight and the snarls from muzzled snouts as wolf, bear, and fox tear into anything that dared trespass into their domain.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
Alfred found it easiest to sink his flingers straight into the demon's eye sockets and just tear the heads clean off. He then could chuck the head full force at another demon, effectively killing it at long range. It was messy to say none the least(his arms were coated with inky sludge and bits of things well past his elbows and up to his shoulders) and the demons really smelled bad, but he was getting terribly efficient at it. It was a good thing he wasm't squeamish.

Alfred decided to change tactics though upon noticing that the Prussian was beating him in numbers. He decided to go for quantity over quality. Uprooting a young tree, the American made himself an impromptu club out of it to beat multiple demons at the same time to a squishy pulp.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO

Gilbert moved in circles around the chanting trio, his swords moving continuously in silver arches as blood fell like black rain all around him.

He used the American's weapon of choice(an uprooted tree of all things) to his advantage. Jumping on it mid-swing, he let the momentum of it launch him high over head. With death defying speed and agility, he harvested his victims, his crops death and worm food falling in neat sheaves at his boots.

Gilbert couldn't remember the last time he had had so much fun.

The pale grim reaper wore a skeleton's grin as demon's fell all around him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
Matthew set his tiny polar bear cub on the ground gently, the animal already wiggling with excitement. With a few low spoken words, the Canadian released Kumajirou from his charmed form, the cub growing instantly up and out, his sharp claws sinking deeply into the cold earth. Matthew climbed on top of his broad back, drawing his sword. With a slight nudge of hands and heels, the pair launched themselves into the fray. Fang, claw, and teeth carved a path of carnage through the mass of devils.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO

Berwald and Ludwig fought back to back, the bodies piling up one by one all around them as they stemmed the tide. Demons wounded or killed by the Swede's sword turned to ash instantly, the blessed weapon in a category of its very own. Berwald handled it like it was an extension of himself, every strike true and sure.

The giant blonde was almost unnerving to watch in battle with his body relaxed and his face holding a stoic expression in the midst of such dire dreadfulness. Ludwig was a veteran to this sort of work and even he was beginning to feel its toll upon him.

Worrying about his beloved didn't help matters either.

"They just keep coming!", Ludwig growled, his frustration beginning to show.

"Ja. T'll the end of days.", Berwald grunted with a shrug, cutting through two more that flew at him, "The l'ttle man….the one that s'ngs…"

"What about him?", Ludwig said bitterly. He hoped beyond hope that Feliciano had gotten frightened(as he tended to do) and ran away, far far away. Ludwig has a gut wrenching vision of the cowardly Italian waving his little white flag at the demons before being torn limb from limb by them.

A rough voice cut through his thoughts of misery, "Go f'nd him."

"I can't leave my post especially not for selfish reasons.", Ludwig pushed out through gritted teeth, his resolve almost buckling.

"'t's ma post. Go f'nd h'm.", Berwald told the German sternly, pausing to glare impressively down at him. Ludwig refused to wince under it, opening his mouth to argue back about duty.

"We got this West!", Gilbert smirked, ducking and dodging past them dressed in sprays of blood. A head smacked into one of the Prussian's intended victims, killing it instantly. Gilbert whirled around to point one of his scimitars at a grinning American, "Hey fucker, that one was mine!"

"I didn't see your name on it!", Alfred yelled back cheerfully, curb stomping a fallen demon under his heel.

"Hosers. Go find Feliciano. I'll take your place.", Matthew said, calling Kumajirou to a halt beside them. The polar bear's pelt dripped with dark matter, looking more made of tar than that of snow. The Canadian directed his animal back to the circle before taking Ludwig's place, giving the German a purposeful shove.

"Danke.", Ludwig sighed gratefully, before taking off at full speed toward the long house. With any luck, Feliciano….and Feliks…..were hiding there or near by. Ludwig prayed that his vision would not be actual reality.

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Arthur barely even registered the noise around him. It seemed to be happening far off from him or to a different person entirely. It was only him, Tino, and Peter in this world, a colorful vortex of swirling energy. He was reconstructing the ancient spell piece by piece. It was like gluing a Faberge egg back together, each minuet part important to its structure. The rose bush roots grew green and vibrant again, pushing up stalks to stretch outward with leafy palms as flora parts unfurled and spread. Parts of the spell snapped back into place instantly while others had to be retrieved through pure will alone like wayward pieces of spider silk.

All three were sweating now under the pure strain of the spell. Tino was propping himself with his knees and hands, his voice hoarse as he still chanted. Peter sat cross-legged, rocking back and forth whispering his part, his eyes scrunched up tight to spill tears down his reddened cheeks. Arthur still stood on his pride alone, allowing nothing less from himself though his hands trembled in pain and exhaustion. They were all starting to hit a wall though.

They just needed a little more time.

A single bloom was starting to grow.

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"Feliciano! Feliciano! Damn it, where are you!", Ludwig yelled, hoping that the Italian would be in the house, hiding under a bed or in a closet. The strange writing on the outside of the long house prevented anything other than human(or certain fae)from entering. A quick run through of the domain produced no Italian or enchanted waterfowl.

Ludwig ran out the front to the little clearing surrounding it to find it covered in blood. Bodies lay in still repose, their throats and bellies slit wide open to pump out the remainder of their cursed lives into the hungry earth. A hundred at least, the dead demons painted the open ground in shades of wet glittering midnight, reflecting back the night sky above almost beautifully. Starlight and what little moonlight there was painted everything else in shades of silver, making death look almost picturesque.

In the middle of this still life stood Feliciano gazing up at the velvety sky, searching the heavens with golden eyes for a shooting star. He held Feliks in his arms, the swan strangely silent. Ludwig tried to say something but couldn't find sufficient words to express his astonishment, especially when the Italian shifted his attention to the German, a peaceful expression on his angelic visage.

"H-how?", Ludwig choked out.

"Enchantment?", Feliks offered.

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Arthur focused, pushing through unseen barriers to come out gasping, his choppy locks drenching in sweat. While his own brand of power was warm drawing from the land and elements itself, Tino's magic was as cool and crisp as a snowflake. It burned and twisted across Arthur's own but was manageable. Peter's was wild though, like an ocean wind, snapping to and fro at the tides to produce white caps on waves. It was beginning to become inconsistent.

"Would you focus!", Arthur groaned, compensating for it once again.

"How much longer!?", Peter whined, his fists white knuckling wads of his clothing in pain.

"It would go faster if you stop mucking about!", Arthur growled, trying to ignore the metaphysical torture himself.

"But it hurts…", Peter sniffled plaintively, cracking his eyes to meet blue to green.

"I know lad, but stiff upper lip. You are supposed to be a Kirkland. If nothing less do it for your own pride.", Arthur sighed, grinding his own heels back for more support as he lifted his chin defiantly.

"Just a little more.", Tino gasped, still managing to give the pre teen an encouraging smile. They all knew they wouldn't last much longer at this rate.

Arthur gritted his teeth and put his all into it.

The bloom started to gain a crimson color to its still folded petals.

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Ludwig reached the pair as the woods around them started to move with evil intent. The German moved to shield them from the incoming threat only to have a bewildered swan shoved into his arms.

"Feli! This is not the time for games!", Ludwig managed out before a slim finger was placed to his cold burned lips.

"Hush Doitsu.", Feliciano said in unfamiliar commanding tone, "Ve~ And try to stay out of my way. I won't be long I promise."

Demons moved out of the trees, drawn to the cooling flesh of their fallen brethren like vultures to a corpse. They rushed the hunters immediately. Ludwig moved to meet them, his sword raised….

…and froze to stare as the world seemed to hold its breath…

Feliciano stepped forward on pointed toe as straight as any dancer, his arms out to his sides in graceful arches. He executed a bow to begin….

….dancing and singing.

Ci sono cose che nessuno ti dirà
(There are things nobody with tell you)

It was the best description Ludwig could even put to the Italian's movements in his mind. Feliciano moved toward the demons with a gentle smile on his face and a matte black stiletto in each hand, the razor blade paper thin and looking sharp enough to cut air.

Ci sono cose che nessuno ti darà
(There are things nobody will give you)

Feliciano met his first and second dance partners at once on light feet to flow around and through them like smoke, the only reminder of his existence to them was the wide mouths he left on their throats.

Sei nato e morto qua
(You are born and you die here)

Ludwig moved forward again when Feliciano's arm was grabbed by a large devil, jerking the Italian harshly toward its claws. He wasn't sure how Feliciano did it, but the slight man followed through with the motion, unresisting to the energy of it to let his body rag doll, his dead weight unbalancing the demon. As the fiend leaned over precariously trying to right itself, Feliciano rolled across it, opening a long path of flesh in his wake. The demon was dead before it even it the ground.

Sei nato e morto qua
(You are born and you die here)

Feliciano moved like a shade across the killing ground, with never a misstep or ill timed strike. He was water flowing over stones, air passing through gaps in a wall, and deadly figment that struck with a soft sigh and bewitching smile.

The dance only came to an end when the last demon fell. Feliciano gave his dance partners a deep bow, flicking his hidden blades back into their places under his sleeves.

"Grazie per la danza.", Feliciano whispered to the dead.

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"How much longer are you going to be with that weed?", Gilbert snapped irritable at the trio. He was getting sticky with all the demon matter on him and not in a good way. He wanted a beer and a bath damn it. If anything can get a reaction, it's a Prussian.

"Sod off! It's not like this is easy, you pale gobshite!", Arthur snarled tiredly. They were so close, the rose starting to open, "Come on lads! One last push!"

"I can't!", Peter wailed, his energy flagging to almost nothingness. Tino was too tired to do anything but focus, his pale lips moving in quiet motions numbly.

"Now see here you little shite! Do you claim to be a prince of Britannia or not?! Because a true prince of Britannia sees things to the end!", Arthur said haughtily, staring the child down with an empirical look, still standing, still proud, his baring regal in every aspect despite his pained exhaustion. Peter's eyes opened wide at the challenge. He gritted his teeth, snarling back the thick browed blonde wordlessly.

"Jerk!", Peter yelled, jumping up as his energy flared like a wave almost consuming the circle entirely. It was enough to open the rose completely, the spell snapping back to reality with an audible bang as the stones shook. The door flung itself wide open howling bloody murder as it started to suck back its denizens. Demons came out of the woodwork screaming, clawing at anything for purchase as they were sent back through the hell gate.

Feliciano, Ludwig, and Feliks joined the others to watch the show.

"I see you found your flake.", Gilbert laughed at his quiet brother who looked a bit shell shocked for some reason. The Prussian wondered if he had got fast head or something.

"Ve~ Doitsu found me! I was so scared!", Feliciano said cheerfully a vacant smile of innocence on his face. Ludwig shook his head in disbelief, deciding not to say anything for now, though he might warn his brother about teasing the Italian so often. Then again, maybe not.

A cry made them turn back to the circle, green and blue energy fluxing crazily against each other. "Peter you idiot! Control yourself! The spell is over! Pull it back before….", Arthur screamed, a blinding flash enveloping them all as the spell overloaded onto them, essentially backfiring due to all the excess power. Berwald dived for Tino who was nearly conscious, cradling the Finn to him. Tino smiled up weakly at him, murmuring reassurances softly to his worried Swede.

Alfred waded into the colorful smoke, wind milling his arms in an attempt to clear it. He ended up with watering eyes and a coughing fit for his troubles.

Eventually, all the smoke cleared to reveal Peter, dazed but unharmed. Alfred looked around frantically for Arthur, not seeing his grouchy fiancé straight off. What he did find was his evergreen cloak piled up on the frozen ground.

"NOOOO! Arthur!", Alfred cried, falling to his knees beside it.

"What the bloody hell are yelling about now?!", the cloak snapped at him, the material shifting as something moved underneath it. Alfred quickly located the edge of the garment to throw it back.

He stared. They all did in shock….expect for Gilbert who started to laugh his ass off.

A rather stunned cat blinked up at the American with its familiar clover eyes. It's fur was mostly white and shorthaired with the exception of a splotch of orange on its left ear and on its tail. Both of its ears were folded over strange patches of fur that strongly suggested eyebrows to its viewer. Through odd temporal and magical mechanics or whatever reason, the cat wore a belt with a sword at its furry side as well as a pair of boots that looked rather dashing on the feline.

"P-puss?", Alfred stammered confused. He was sure he had heard Arthur's voice from under the cloak only to find a really cute kitty instead.

"In boots, which are totally fab by the way.", Feliks added, having a fetish for footwear and fashion.

Arthur looked down at himself curiously, taking full note of the entire situation.

"Bloody hell!"