Arthur Kirkland

Montreal, Quebec

November 1, 2163

All Saints' Day... Of all the Holidays I enjoyed this the most... that and All Souls' Day... which were one after another on the calender... Two Days that were especially affective for magic, and then there was All Hallows Eve... Three Magical Days, and they were one after another.

To America and the other nations... (other than my brother, Daniel, of course) there was no importance to those three days. But to Daniel, Myself, and all of the Fae... they were the most important days of all.

...If I recalled correctly, this day was the best day for non-life threatening curses. If I recalled correctly... which I usually did.

...If I didn't recall correctly, however... well... that was a different thing entirely. That would be worse than bad... WAY worse.

I took some chalk out of my back pocket and drew a chalk circle on the dark stone slab that rested atop the dark green carpet. I loved my magical heritage... it was not always so endearing... but it was always there for me... unlike someone.

I drew a knife from a sheath that lay alongside the slab, and smiled softly at the familiarly pitted blade, not rusted but blackened with age. "Wreichionen i fyny a gadael yn llosgi, yn gyntaf i weld a olaf i droi... (Spark up and left to burn, first to see the final turn...)" I murmured, reciting the ancient words. bloody hell... I thought, biting my lip, I can't remember the words! I had to search my long memory for the words that would reaffirm my oath that I'd taken so many years ago. "Blentyn i mi, os gwelwch yn dda yn gwrando'n dda, mae hyn yn gyfrinach byth rhaid i chi ddweud. Mae Wiciaid y pren tywyllaf, yn cymryd y llw yn cymodlon... (Child of mine, please listen well, this secret you must never tell. The Wiccans of the darkest wood, do take this oath in brotherhood...)"

The starting words had been recited... now to remember the exact words that I had spoken when I took the oath.

I took a deep breath and began to recite the oath, my memory serving me faithfully for once, "...I, Arthur Pendragon, being of the Pagan Faith... Do Solemnly swear to uphold the secret of Magic under penalty of death... If I should dare to break this oath, My Mentor, Mary Elizabeth Kirkland," My heart pained with a twinge of sadness; Mary Elizabeth was dead... "will administer a punishment based on the severity of my infraction... As a Wiccan, the worst possible punishment would be to be burned at the stake as a Witch... On this, the blood of mine own..." I froze for a moment and pressed the tip of the ancient blade to the tip of my finger, wincing as it dug into my finger, "I swear..." I watched as the blood ran down my finger and dripped into the chalk circle.

"I am sorry, dear student... but that is not enough blood..." said a voice in my head.

I remembered when I had taken the oath.

The woman tutted under her breath, 'No, no; this will never do...' she said, looking at the cut on the tip of my finger.

'What will never do, Teacher?' I asked, looking at her with curious eyes. I had been naught but a boy at that time.

'That will never get you enough blood to seal the contract. You need more, just to write it, than you've bled, thus far, boy,' She took the sword out of my hand and rested it in her palm... 'A satisfactory blade, to be sure, but, not only are you cutting the wrong place, you aren't cutting deep enough.'

'I do not understand, Teacher,' I said, cocking my head to one side.

'You cut either here,' she touched the palm of my hand, 'or here,' she lay two fingers on my wrist. She showed my a scar on the bend of her arm, 'and it has to be deep enough to leave a scar.'

I looked at the knife for a moment... then at my bare forearm. I sighed and lifted the blade in my hand, silently praying that no one come to disturb me. I pressed the blade to the bend of my arm and winced as it cut into my flesh. I moaned softly at the pain, and watched as the blood fell into the circle. I just stood there, bleeding, for a moment... maybe two... and the circle sparked up red. I smiled when the circle flashed green and then turned black against the grey stone.

I watched as my blood continued to stream down my arm, dripping off of my fingertips... I was strangely happy... almost giddy... I realized that this could be a valid way to kill myself!

I made an identical cut in the bend of my other arm, slit my palms down the middle, digging deep, and slit my wrists, digging deeper. I grinned as the blood seeped out, covering my arms in the dull red colour of milk mixed with blood. I had been so pale... but now... I was pale AND red... like some strange version of St. George's Cross... Red on white... Hahaha!

I stretched my arm out in front of me and cut a deep, long gash from the top of my arm to halfway to my elbow. I did the same on the other side, and almost started laughing as I thought about how stupid I was for not having considered this sooner!

I couldn't help myself when I finally started laughing and crying at the same time. I didn't know whether to be ashamed or happy! I was finally going to die; that was more than enough to make me laugh seeing as the blood loss had made me light-headed. But I was going to DIE; leave all of my so-called 'friends' and all my siblings behind. Andrew, Daniel, Erin, Alex, Patrick, and Peter... Scotland, Wales, Australia, Ireland, Northern Ireland, and Sealand... My only family. The only one that I would regret leaving was America... but not because I love him! That's Absurd!

The reason that I regret leaving him is that I won't get to see the look on his face when he finds out that I'm dead!

Won't that be an interesting conversation? 'Hey, America! Guess the good news!' 'What is it?' 'England's DEAD' 'Oh, Really?' 'Yeah! Let's go celebrate!' 'Right behind you, dude!'

My god... I need to get a life...

Funny how that occurred to me whilst I'm in the act of DYING, though...

I was dimly aware of someone banging on the door yelling for me to sober up and get out... of someone knocking the door down... of a scream... someone calling for help. Then I blacked out.

When I awoke... I was staring at a white ceiling... so very white... it burned my eyes...

I was cold... but I wasn't bleeding any more... how odd... Heaven is perfection... Hell is fiery... and Purgatory... just is... If I was, indeed, dead... I should either be comfortably warm, burning up, or just... dead. I closed my eyes again, after the lights and the ceiling burned me, and a door opened.

"-lucky you found him when you did, Mr Jones; he could've very easily died," said a voice from somewhere off to my right.

"Is Iggy gonna be ok?" asked America's voice which damn near killed me with it's abrupt loudness.

"Yes, he should be waking up soon. Don't be too hard on him, though; you'll have to talk to him yourself if you want to know why."

"Thanks, sir."

I heard the door open again and footsteps going out, I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

America was sitting next to me. He leaned on his hands. "Why did you do it, Iggy?"

"Do What?" I asked, my eyes locked on a tiny crack on the spotless ceiling.

"Try to kill yourself... Why? You know I love you, right? Then why would you do that?"

"Because I don't love YOU. I hate you, Wanker." I looked him dead in the face. "Why did you stop me? And don't say it's because you're the hero. You're not the hero, you stopped me from killing myself, which is what I wanted to do."

"Wha- Why?" Shock covered his face... just like that one time.

"I wanted to die. You just had to go and save me, well, here's a news flash, Wanker; I have a good reason to want to die-"

"Which is what?"

"...I want to watch you suffer... all of you... François, Matthew, Peter, all my brothers... and especially YOU... I want to die so that I can go to meet them..."

"Meet who?"

"My dear Lizzie... and My sweet Jeanne... they went on ahead of me... but eventually... we'll be together again..."

"What the hell? You fell for two of your citizens?"

"They're Elizabeth the first and Joan of Arc, You uncultured Yankee!"

"Who?"

"...You are an idiot. Joan of Arc or... Jeanne D'Arc as was her name in native French... was the only reason that France ever won any battles, aside from those in which Napoleon was involved. She and I... we had... something... but then we had a little... disagreement... and I decided to follow my orders for once. I burned her at the stake... burned her ashes... and dropped her remains into the channel."

"...That's fucking heartless..."

"It's me as a young man, so, you, shut up. Elizabeth was my queen... she never married... in a public way... but she married me. I had visited her, everyday of her imprisonment... and she had slowly warmed up to me... She was my favourite.. and when questioned about why she did not marry... she said 'I am indeed married... I'm married to our dear England'... She was the best queen... pity that she was succeeded by that bastard, James... I suspect that you only remember George the third, he was the king that took your freedom, but James was the king when I first met you; he was not a good king. I almost wish he'd never ruled..."

"Why?"

"Because, then I would never have met you... and you would've been raised by France... and maybe I would've been able to kill my self in peace."

"B-but, Iggy... w-where did you even get that knife anyway?"

"From my brother, Daniel... He's a smart one, love... he knows when I need to lose some blood..."

"What?"

"I was doing a ritual... and then I decided... 'Fuck it; I'll just die.'" I said, smiling slightly.

America smacked me across my face, glaring at me with tears in his eyes. "You bastard; Don't you know that we care about you?"

"Oh, so, you Wankers actually care about me?" I asked, mockingly, hearing the insanity in my own voice.

"Yeah, we do!"

"You care, huh? Where were you wankers, my so-called 'friends', when Peter started starving me?" I challenged.

"Bu-"

I cut him off, "Where were you when he would beat me until I couldn't move?" I persisted.

"We wer-"

I interrupted him again, "Where were you when I cried myself to sleep?"

"Yeah, bu-"

I was determined not to let him speak, "Where were you when I prayed for someone to come and help me? Where were you when I gave up on God? Where were you when I decided to let him kill me? Where were you when he raped me, Wanker?"

"I mean, I-"

"You are no hero. You didn't save me when I needed to be saved, and you did save me when I didn't need saving."

"DAMMIT, IGGY!" America shouted. "JUST SHUT UP AND LET ME TALK FOR ONE MINUTE!"

I glared at him but fell silent.

"We didn't know. I didn't find out until right after he raped you, Iggy... I was the first... except for Canada and Egypt, I was the first to notice." America said, reaching out for my hand. I barely felt it when he closed his hands around mine. "I don't want you to die... You're mine, Iggy... and I'm your's... If you died... it would break my heart..."

"Like I care about your heart..." I said, lying half-heartedly.

"You do care."

"I don't," I said. I stared at the ceiling, "I never cared about you... It was all about the land... Always..." there. That was the one thing that I had forbidden myself from saying. Not at all true... but still... if delivered properly... "I never loved you. Bloody Hell, I never even liked you; you were just another colony to be ruled over... just a patch of land to be taxed... never even meant to last... You weren't important to me at all; why do you think that I left all the time...? It's because I was ashamed that you didn't know your place."

America squeezed my hand, "You're lying."

"No, I'm not." Yes, I was. I was lying to push him away... now to see if it works...

"You do care. Otherwise, you wouldn't be arguing."

"I don't care. Shut up and get bent, Wanker."

"No, thanks."

"Get out, you ass. I want to at least spend my time in the hospital in peace, please."

"Fine... I'll send Canada in... he freaked when he found out that you'd tried to kill yourself, by the way."

I groaned; Canada was going to KILL me.

"Hey, I know that he's no hero, but he's my brother!"

"I prefer him to you. I'm groaning because I want to sleep. I don't want to get yelled at, or grumbled at, or argued with... I want to sleep."

"Fine, Iggy," America said, heading for the door, "I'll tell him that you fell asleep again."

"Goodbye, America..." As he shut the door, I added, "I love you..."