-2.38-
In Northern Ireland, a dark figure roams beneath the same stars. Cloaked all in black, the woman moves from shadow to shadow, avoiding twinkling street lamps. She looks warily at them, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Hazel Kirkland doesn't think she'll ever get used to the modern age and it's new technology. Turning away from the strange contraption, she continues down the paved road. The last she was here, this boulevard was all dirt, and only a few shops laid nearby, as opposed to rows upon rows of buildings and cement.
She dreadfully misses the old days.
None the less, Hazel is determined to persevere. She had been asleep long enough, and from her own mixed-up potion no less! Honestly, how was she to know the recipe said 'eye of toad,' and not 'eye of bat?' She didn't understand a lick of Latin then, nor now.
She inwardly groans, muttering ancient curses to herself. That potion was a bad idea from the start, and now she's been trapped in a coma for, what, a thousand years? Something like that? Oh, whatever, the point is that now she's awake, and with this development, Hazel has a lot of work to do. After all, it's not like her monopoly on spells, charms, and the like is simply going to rebuild itself. However, even she'll admit this checklist is long and difficult.
First of all, English has changed over time. Seeing as Hazel was asleep for all of that, she can barely translate her native tongue. This is probably one of the hardest things necessary for success, but progress is good. She's even picked up a more modern accent! Next, lodging and business. In the month or so she's been present, Hazel's figured out how buying property works, to a certain extent, and has started a temporary job at the town's library. No one expects the librarian to be a witch.
Hazel still has a lot to take care of, what with saving up to buy a nice shop, and still wanting a better home than the shitty motel she' stuck in. Hopefully, she can buy one of those buildings with a shop on the first floor and an apartment on the second. That would be really nice, but it'll probably cost a lot.
Well, at least she could still bring back her precious shadow wolves.
Hazel's lips up turn in a small smile at the thought. Yes, I love my pets.
The creation of the shadow wolves is by far her greatest achievement, and the sorceress had been delightfully surprised to find she could still summon them. And so, she'd summoned roughly a hundred or so. She might have gone a little overboard, but no matter; Hazel's positive the extras have found something to amuse themselves, so who cares?
She gives a wistful sigh, picking up pace as her motel comes into view. She hurries to her room, softly shutting the door and turning to greet her lovely wolves.
"And hello to you too!" She laughs jovially as the darling creatures jump onto their hind legs, licking at her face and pinning her to the wall. She pets each and every one of those kept inside, addressing them by name.
"Hello, Gawain! Evening, Beo! How are you, Achilles?" Then, Hazel reaches the last two. She beams at their synchronized movements, "Pollux, Castor, I see you're close as ever."
After assuring her children of her well-being, Hazel heads to the mini fridge beneath the television set to pull out a box of leftover pizza. Herd of wolves following at her heels, she carries the box to her bed. She seats herself against the headboard, not before removing her black trench coat, all five shadow beings climbing up to huddle against her. A cheerful grin in place, she snatches the remote from her bedside table and turns on the TV, ready to engage in a marathon of Britain's Got Talent.
The next day, in the southern part of France, another Brit by blood wanders a mansion's halls, gazing down at his clip-board. Arthur, rabbit spirit of the rich and powerful Francis Bonnefoy, is troubled. Things have been relatively peaceful thus far, but times are changing, and he's worried that said changes won't be good.
In his hands are a stack of papers detailing the strange events of the north. Now, Arthur's always liked a good mystery, Sherlock Holmes being one of his favorites, but this is just creepy. Two spirit animals, both gray wolves, left their communities to investigate an outbreak of enchanted wolves that appear to be made of shadows. Upon finding what are referred to as 'shadow wolves,' they were attacked, badly wounded, and chased very far away from home, only to be saved by a member of the Vargas line, whom they later bound themselves to.
Why would such similar events happen to entirely different people? Is it fate, simple coincidence, or something more sinister? This is what bothers the rabbit; how is Arthur to know what's going on, when the truly important details were lost in translation?
Let's start from the beginning. The first instance of such unusual circumstances was roughly a thousand or so years previous, when Italy had a monarch. According to legend, king Romulus was riding his horse in the woods one day, when he stumbled across a large gray wolf beaten bloody. Feeling pity for the poor creature, he took it home with him, where he slowly nurtured it back to health. One day, the wolf transformed before his eyes, having apparently been a spirit animal the whole time. In appreciation to the generosity and kindness showed to him, the spirit offered his services, binding him and the king together for life. This spirit was dubbed 'Aldrich' by king Romulus, seeing as spirit animals had not yet adopted the human practice of naming their young.
And then we have the second occurrence, the story of Feliciano and Ludwig. Feliciano Vargas, youngest of the family's most recent generation, took a walk one day. Upon arriving at a nearby forest, he decided to stop and practice painting. After a good while, he rose from his place and began to roam about unfamiliar woods. Then, a shadow wolf appeared. It lunged at Feliciano, but before he could get hurt, a gray wolf killed it. This gray wolf was Ludwig. With his heart of gold, Feliciano noticed the other's wounds and insisted he stayed at a certain Frenchman's countryside manor until healed. For the next two weeks, Ludwig lived here, and just a few days ago, he bound himself to Feliciano.
Arthur has many different ideas as to how this could happen. Theory one: Ludwig is actually Aldrich, and serves Feliciano out of a sense of loyalty to the Vargas line. This can be easily disproven, seeing as Gilbert and Ludwig are brothers, meaning something as monumental as this would have popped up by now if it was true. Plus, historical documentation reveals that in king Romulus's last moments, he and Aldrich killed each other, a scene that has been depicted and referenced in nothing short of a million pieces of dramatic literature, plays, and cinema. There's no way Ludwig could be Aldrich.
Right?
Anyways, that possibility aside, another idea is that Ludwig is the reincarnation of Aldrich, and Feliciano of king Romulus. Or something like that. This does seem rather serendipitous; two spirit-human pairs, at least two of the four directed related, the other two being of the same species, both meeting and binding themselves in the same way… it's simply too good to be true. This kind of thing happens in books, not real life!
Arthur growls to himself. This is getting ridiculous.
It's not like the rabbit's never had to deal with fantasy elements making a cameo in reality. After all, he's secretly been able to see and communicate with mythical creatures all his life. No, the problem's that we're approaching fate levels of existential messiness, and fourth wall breaks are where he draws the line, dammit!
He sighs wearily. This is getting exhausting.
It feels like he's tearing at loose straws here, especially since no one knows what's causing this. There's no way such specific scenarios happening to nearly identical people can be mere coincidence! The very suggestion's insane!
There are too many unknown factors here. Arthur's been looking into this for the past week and a half, and he still hasn't solved a single one of the multitude of questions piling up. The more he thinks about it, the more confused he becomes. He's about ready to call it quits, throw in the towel, give up.
He looks at the walls in dismay. Oh goodie, it seems he's found himself in the old part of the manor. Surrounding him lays painting after painting of important Vargases, some even brought in from the original palace in Italy. At the head of the hallway, hung above an ancient door rests an oil of none other than king Romulus Vargas, cheeks puffed and eyes narrowed in a cheerful grin. Sometimes, it's uncanny how much the twins resemble him.
"Oh god, it really is fate, isn't it?" Arthur groans, hand connecting with face in a distinct smack. Well, looks like there's only one option left; I can't be certain the hands of fate are to blame until I find this out.
And so, Arthur, rabbit spirit of the rich and powerful Francis Bonnefoy, begins his secret mission: the quest to learn of the wolf brothers' heritage. He can't know for sure until there's sufficient evidence of each parties being descended from people who went through this. He needs to prove Ludwig's ancestor was Aldrich.
Okay, this is getting out of hand. They have no idea what they're doing!
So? How do we share business with the living?
Wha- um- I mean- oh, come on! They're family! We have to help them somehow!
*sigh* This is a terrible idea, and you know it.
Hey, guys! What are you two up to?
Oh, hey.
Hello.
Ooo, you watching the living? What are they doing this time?
Yeah, tell him we need to help! They're in over their heads here!
This is insane and he knows it.
Er- wait, you're not planning on doing what I think you are, right?
Of course not!
He absolutely is.
Are you kidding me?! You remember what happened last time!
Yeah, but we need to help them! How else are they going to stop her?!
Stop who?
Oh, hello.
Bastet! You agree some divine intervention's in order to stop a power-psycho witch from killing my descendants, right?!
Wait, what? Since when was a 'power-psycho witch' part of the equation?!
This witch is the whole reason we met in the first place.
Wow, you guys are really fucked.
That's what I've been saying for centuries now; welcome to the family, in which nothing makes sense half the time!
Hey! I make sense!
I never said you didn't!
Gah, you people suck! I don't know why I spend the afterlife with you!
You are being irrational.
No, you are! Why won't you come with me to the mortal plane?!
Because it is a bad idea, as I said earlier.
He makes a good point you know.
Wah, whose side are you on?!
Not yours.
Ha, burn! *laugh and the sound of two hands slapping*
I think I am done here.
Wha- but- !
I said no, and that is final. *fading footsteps*
*groan* You guys'll help me, right?
*shaky laugh* Yeah, sorry Roma; you're on your own for this one.
A/N:
Hello there! I'm uploading earlier than normal, because I had some free time to work on editing during school. This was basically the British chapter, featuring Britannia and England back-to-back. Yes, Britannia is named Hazel Kirkland in this AU. Yes, she knocked herself out with an accidental sleeping potion. Yes, she summoned about a hundred shadow wolves and only kept twelve. No, she's not very good at being a witch. Also, guess who the characters speaking in italics were at the end? Hint: they're all deceased ancients.
The next chapter will be 2.4 and the finale of part 2. Unlike the part 1 finale, 2.4 is rather anti-climatic, because I chose to leave off on a tense cliff-hanger as opposed to a dramatic and failingly-feelsy death scene. Speaking of that, in this chapter I brought up the interesting fact that a royal fuckton of plays, books, and movies have re-enacted or referenced Romulus and Aldrich's deaths. It's kind of like the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet, you know? I just thought that was a cool bit of world-building to share with you all.
Also, what do you guys think of mafia Aus? I have a lot of ideas for future fanfics, and the vast majority are mafia Aus, so I just want to see what my audience is interested in for planning purposes.
Responses to review(s):
Seele Esser Deutsch: Yeahh, I have no doubt in mind that you'll figure out exactly who the assassin and their charge are by the end of this. Wait, nosebleed? I thought nosebleeds were for smut... ? (Which, by the way, is in the intermission.)
maryranstadler1: Yup, that is exactly why Antonio compares him to a tomato; his face gets so adorably red! I'm a total sucker for fluff. Give me Roger (Rome x Germania), Gerita, or Spamano fluff and I'll love you forever.
So yeah, bye guys!