This one is my favorite :)
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I wrote this fanfic for my own literary enjoyment and wish to share it with other APH fans. The chapters I post here are not to be taken seriously and I apologize if I offend anyone. Also, I do not support or condone any of the themes I use here. Thank you.
MAJOR WARNING: dark themes (blood, gore, violence, death, cannibalism, etc); implied rape and necrophilia; explicit language and sex scenes; inaccurate historical references; slight OOC; NSFW & R-18
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the APH characters or the franchise; Axis Powers Hetalia rightfully belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
~ Plus Ultra ~
~ Further Beyond ~
"Where…"
SLAP!
"Is…"
SLAP!
"The…"
SLAP!
"Gold?"
He impatiently glares at his shackled and bloodied prisoner. The insolent woman refuses to answer him, locking her words away. She is such a stubborn bitch, but he has broken tougher people than her in the past. Her long black hair falls like a curtain in front of her ceremonial gown, devoid of a single adornment; he stripped her of her gold necklaces and bracelets, hoarding the trinkets as his own, long ago. He kneels down in front of the woman, grasping her bruised chin and harshly jerking her head up. Wild green eyes bore into hers as his lips curl into manic grin.
"Do you hear the voices of your people outside? They're dying in the streets like dogs because you refuse to tell me what I want to hear."
Instead of replying, the woman spits a bloody glob of phlegm on his cheek in her defiance.
He hears the clang of weapons behind him and raises a hand, signaling his men to stand down. "Relax. This barbarous act is no cause for alarm."
He can sense his men growing impatient by the minute. They want the gold just as much as he does. They desire it. Yearn it. Crave it. Vast riches make the world go round, you know. When you are rich, you are the strongest. When you are strong, you get what you want, whether by right or by force. With the gold, he can be greater than his enemies, greater than his predecessor. Greater than everyone!
"Comandante! We found this heathen trying to escape!" a guard calls out as he approaches the main chamber.
Hearing the shouts, the nation turns to find three of his men and a bound native, a priest he assumes, enter the room. He smirks at finding the new prisoner is still garbed in gold baubles.
"Exquisito! Hold him still, por favor~" he happily chirps as he stands and walks over, unsheathing a dagger in the process.
The dark-haired woman watches in horror as he slices off her citizen's ear in one fell swoop. The man screams and struggles against his captors. The blood oozes from the torn skin and slides down his neck. The nation then resumes his deadly actions by chopping off the other ear; the screams grow louder.
Despite witnessing this, the woman continues holding her tongue, yet unshed tears cling to her eyelashes.
He kneels down, picking up the bloody cartilages and relieving them of the thick gold earrings.
"I cut off this infidel's ears and you still rebel. Is your silence really worth your people's demise, mi querida?"
She sends a seething glare at him, tears now flowing freely.
He ignores her and longingly stares at the jewelry in his hand, running his fingers over the cool surface. His wicked grin reflects back.
"Strip and kill the heathen," he orders.
The woman furiously yells and thrashes against the conquistadors who pull her up. She hisses and snaps at them but they are too strong and her strength has waned from the chaos outside the temple.
His soldiers indulge in their murderous hobby as they pilfer the gold from their new prisoner, sneering and laughing. They begin to flay his weathered skin from his bones, watching the delicate veins be sliced away. The moment the native opens his mouth to scream, a blade maliciously slides across his throat, cutting deep enough to sever his head from his neck; the white bone of his spine is exposed amidst the pink muscles and veins. Blood quickly spurts out, dousing the voracious soldiers in crimson. They look like wild beasts slaughtering their helpless prey.
"Tear out the heart too!"
A solider does as ordered and cracks open the native's chest, hacking at the ribcage in gusto. There, in the cavity, beating no more is the source of all life. In three quick stabs, he removes the organ and passes it to his nation.
"How does it feel to watch one of your own have their heart torn out, mi querida?" he cackles.
She can do nothing but watch as the twisted nation ravenously bites off a piece of the plump tissue and gobble it down. Watch as sharp canines rip into the tender flesh.
Tiny red droplets drip on to a small silver cross strung around his neck.
"Delicious~ So delicious!" he moans in delight, taking another bite and another with blood dribbling down his chin. "I wonder if all of his organs taste this good. Take out the liver this time—"
"No! Stop it!"
All manners of movement halt at the sound of the woman's sobbing voice. She bows her head in defeat, heavy tears dotting the stone floor at her feet.
He gleefully flashes a blood-stained smile as he devours the rest of the heart in malice. He sensuously licks his lips clean of that luscious liquid.
The Aztec Empire is broken. He wins.
"I will tell you what you seek…if you leave my people alone," she quietly says.
"Sí, of course!"
Dangling the earrings in her face, Spain looms over and whispers four simple words in her ear.
"Where is El Dorado?"