One Last Fairytale

by Kari Kurofai

There are stories. Of a princess and her forbidden love, and of a prince and his feelings for his servant. But those are all just stories to Alfred, and more than anything, he wants to find his own Happily Ever After. Us/Jp, Fr/Uk, Rs/Ps, Rs/Ch.

5. Chapter 5

One Last Fairytale: I Will Carry You

For Ivan, days in the castle of the West Kingdom were spent in secret forts and the tallest of trees. Afternoons were for lying around in empty hallways and sneaking around dark corridors. Hand in hand in hand in hand. Night time was for one last imaginary battle and a bedtime story with Arthur.

For Arthur, days in the castle of the West Kingdom were spent in the expansive dining hall, surrounded by people who would help him regain his throne. Afternoons were small discussions and plans between High Princes Roman and Germania with Vash and himself. Evenings were when he would spend an hour or so with Natalia and Kiku, helping out Liech and learning about caring for the children. He'd be expecting his own soon after all. And then at the very end of the day he would curl up with Ivan and read his adopted son a story from on of the tomes of old fairytales in Germania's library.

And for Arthur, midnight was spent at the top of the castle's tallest watchtower, leaning against the stone windowsill and searching for the distant figure he knew would never come. And every morning just before dawn, Liech would come and drag him to his bed, scolding him on how he needed to sleep and that standing out in the cold wasn't good for him. But she never came any earlier than that, as if she knew that his searching and hoping was what kept him going.

Currently, Arthur was relaxing on one of the elaborate sofas in his room, staring out over the gardens where Ivan and Gilbert were playing. Even though it was mid December and the leaves had long fallen off of the trees and bushes, the pair seemed not to mind as they ran through the dead grass in the chilly air. The blonde's hands rested against his swollen stomach and he smiled when he felt the babies kick. It had been only a few days ago that Liech had told him that she suspected that it was twins, but he could still hardly believe it. Prince Roman had jokingly tried to discuss names with him, but he had declined. There was really only one thing he could name them, and he wasn't going to change that.

He looked up as the door creaked open and Vash sidestepped into the room, Liech hanging onto his arm. "We'll be leaving soon," he said quietly, his eyes avoiding the girl who clearly didn't want him to go. "Will you see us off?"
Arthur heaved himself off the couch, Vash stepping forward to help him up, "It was my plan," the blond muttered, resting a hand on his aching back as he stood. "If I had it my way I'd be riding into battle with you."

Vash rolled his eyes, "Please refrain from doing so, sire."

"Don't call me that," Arthur snorted, following him down the hall towards the large oak double doors that led outside. "If I'm taking down the Nobility, then the silly titles between ranks are gone as well." He smiled, "Even when I'm king, I still want to just be called Arthur, thank you very much."

High Prince Roman waved as they exited onto the grounds, bringing his horse up beside them. "I'm looking forward to this," he smirked, stepping down to shake Arthur's hand. "I can't wait to gut some Nobility soldiers with this sword."

"Just make sure you don't gut yourself," Germania muttered under his breath as he rode up to them. The blond cast a glance around at the gathered army, "Roman, where's Antonio?"

Roman winced and shrugged, "Oh, I dunno . . . I think we should just leave without him." He turned to Arthur and dropped something that looked strangely enough like a key into his hand, ducking down to hiss in his ear, "He's locked in the storage closet in the kitchens. Don't let him out till we're long gone, okay?"

Arthur smiled and pretended he'd heard nothing, "He'll be pissed, you know that right?"

"Pissed is better than dead," Roman whispered between his teeth as he grinned innocently at Germania. "It's bad enough that Francis is gone, and that high and mighty over there insists on coming too. But I won't have my other son killed as well." He turned to rub his hand on Arthur's belly, "Name one after me, got it?"

"I'll consider it as a middle name," Arthur laughed, swatting his hand away. "Just make sure you win so that you can tell them of your heroic deeds when they're born."

Roman's smile faltered, "Oh, but Antonio can tell them all that too, you know? It doesn't have to be me."

The blond didn't catch his reluctant hesitation, distracted as Ivan and Gilbert came barreling out of the doors towards them. Gilbert stood next to his father's horse, holding the hand of a small blue-eyed, blond haired boy just barely old enough to walk. Germania laughed and lifted them both up onto his lap. "Gilbert," he said softly, "Take care of your little brother, all right?"

"Uh-huh."

"And teach him lots of words; he hasn't talked at all yet. Silly thing," the High Prince rubbed the blonde's hair fondly. "But none of those dirty words I hear you and Ivan saying when you think we can't hear you."

Gilbert whistled and looked away, "What, no . . . I've never said any dirty words." Ivan laughed below and the albino shushed him with a finger to his lips.

"And when he falls down, pick him back up and take care of his cuts," Germania continued. "If he cries, sing him a song until he stops. And make sure you hug him every day, just to show him you care."

"Lame," Gilbert deadpanned.

"Promise me," Germania smiled, taking his hand, "Promise me, okay?"

"Kay," Gilbert whispered as the High Prince lifted him and his brother back down to the ground. Roman grinned and hopped back on his horse, motioning for the army to get a move on. Vash stood where he was for a moment before leaning over to whisper something in Liech's ear and kissing her on the cheek before he mounted his own horse and followed.

"Come back in one piece!" Arthur called after them, waving, Liech sniffing beside him, trying not to cry. Gilbert held his brother's hand with his left, and with his right he squeezed Ivan's, biting his lip as his father's words sunk into him.

Arthur and Liech herded the children back into the castle as the gates closed on the outer wall. Castle guards locked the oaken doors behind them and they began to head back into the deeper parts of the castle. The blond showed Liech the key he'd been given after a moment, wondering when it would be safe to let Antonio out of the storage closet. As it was, they could already hear his furious yells even though they had yet to reach the kitchens. In the end, they sat on the counters eating frosting from a bowl with the children and waited an hour or so for the noise in the closet to die down before they let Antonio out.

And as they suspect, he was furious. But by now he was also exhausted from trying to break the door down. "Stupid . . ." He panted, hands on his knees as Arthur finally opened the door. "Stupid old man . . ."

"Oh quit whining," Arthur snorted, "you can help out around here if you're so set on doing something."

"I wanted to avenge Francis!" Antonio snarled, standing up fully.

Arthur's eyes narrowed, "You don't need to avenge someone who isn't dead," he said calmly.

Antonio's eyes blazed with anger at this, "How long are you going to keep saying that? Until you die? Because that's the only time you're ever going to see him again! He's gone, Arthur! You saw him get stabbed through the stomach, no one lives through that!"

"Stop . . ." Liech tried to cut in, stepping between them.

"I saw, yes," Arthur hissed. "But I think that after all this time, I would know if he had died. I can still feel him! Can't you understand that?"

"That's just your futile hope telling you that!" Antonio yelled, balling his fists at his side. "He would have shown up by now if he was alive! But he hasn't! He hasn't even once come to see how you were! Doesn't that tell you something?!"

"Stop!"
"It tells me that he can't get to me right now!" Arthur screamed. "He's alive, and I am going to say so until the day I die, even if he's not . . . There . . ." His mouth fell open in a silent gasp and his hands that had been half raised to slap Antonio lowered to his stomach.

Liech's face paled and she turned towards him fully, "Arthur?"

" . . . Hurts . . ." Arthur whispered, characteristic eyebrows furrowing together in pain, "Something's wrong . . ."

The girl's eyes widened and she glared at Antonio fiercely, "You idiot! Go get as many fresh towels as you can find." She directed her sharp gaze at Gilbert and Ivan, "And you two, go get Yao and boil some hot water. At least two good sized pans." When the children had dashed off she noticed Antonio still standing there, dumbstruck, "Get going! If he miscarries now it'll be your fault you moron!"
Arthur rested a hand on the counter behind him, legs shaking as Liech yelled orders. The fact that she was yelling was enough to make him worry, but that last sentence rang coldly in his ears. Miscarries. "No . . ." he whispered, biting his lip as another wave of pain washed over him. Whatever god was watching him must have a cruel sense of humor for this to happen right now. He'd already lost Francis, he would not lose the babies too.

Liech led him into the nearest bedroom, saying comforting things to him that he didn't quite hear. He was too distracted, one hand on his aching stomach, the other over his heart. Francis . . . Francis, please hurry . . . You have to help me . . . He tightened his fingers into the fabric of his shirt above his heart, telling himself that if he said the words loud enough in his mind that Francis would hear him. Somehow, somewhere.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Vash led the way through the crumbled wall of the Main Hetalia castle, trampling one of the Nobility's soldiers with his horse as he went. "Don't light fire to your arrows around the castle!" he called to his men, "We need it intact!" Boulders crashed to the ground behind him, toppling the stone wall that had protected the castle. He pulled on the reins, slowing his steed to a gentle canter as they approached the castle itself. "Ready the battering ram!" he ordered, watching as one of their battalions hefted up an enormous log between them, "Three, two, one!"

The door's creaked and groaned from the impact, but didn't crack. Vash growled in annoyance, lifting his hand for them to ram it again. "Three, two, one!" The wood snapped audibly, splinters falling to the ground at the soldier's feet. "Three, two, one!" The door heaved and spilt, Vash grinning in triumph, "One more time! Three, two, one!"

Roman laughed as the door buckled and groaned, falling inwards as their soldier's swarmed against it, pushing it down. He could clearly hear the startled cries of guards and maids inside, warning calls to the tyrant king hiding somewhere in there. "Don't hurt the workers there," he reminded his men as they raced past him, "Soldiers and the King and Queen are fair game though."

Germania pulled up beside him, "The Queen too? Are you sure?"

The brunette smirked, "She's just as responsible for Arthur's misfortune as her husband. Corrupt is corrupt. Gender makes no difference." He kicked his horse forward, forcing it into a gallop towards the doors, "So, since Vash already called dibs on the King, wanna see who can gut the most soldiers?"

The blond snorted, following at a slower pace, "I'll win anyways."

Vash urged his soldiers on around them, pressing through what resistance they met. He raised his sword in triumph when they burst into the front hall, the massive double staircase looming in front of them. He forced his horse into a steady gallop, charging up the steps, eyes on the large tapestry of the royal family hanging there. Raising his blade, he drew the metal across it, carving the heads off the king and queen, tossing them to the floor so that only the image of a young Arthur remained. "King Arthur!" he roared, starting a battle cry among his men.

They surged up the stairs, pushing the Main Hetalia soldiers over the railing. Vash hissed in startled surprise as an arrow shot past him, nicking his shoulder. He clasped a hand over the wound, blinking at the strange tingling such a small cut had left. "Shit . . . Avoid the arrows!" he called over his shoulder, "They're poisoned!" The blonde winced as another arrow bit into the same arm and he raised his sword to block a third. "Don't falter! Break their ranks!"

He forced his way through the Main Hetalia soldiers, cutting them down from atop his steed. His teeth met his lip as he felt his arm beginning to grow numb. Vash eyed the fighting around him, knowing that he needed to suck out the poison as soon as possible. But he also knew too well that the places he'd been were nearly impossible to reach himself. He tried to ignore it for a moment, tearing down another offending portrait of the king as he passed. He planned to construct a lovely bonfire with them later.

Suddenly, his horse reared up, frightened by the soldier pointing a spear at its face in an effort to force Vash to the ground. An effort that succeeded. The blond gasped in surprise, toppling over backwards onto the marble floor. His eyes widened and he rolled over onto his side as his horse came crashing down on top of him. Stabbed in the chest with the spear. Vash coughed, clawing at the ground to pull himself out from beneath the slain creature, his lower half from his bottom rib down pinned to the floor. The blond tried pushing up, but his numbed arm gave way beneath him, unable to support even his own weight.

Vash's vision blurred with the poison and he scrabbled helplessly at the ground again, searching for a handhold on smooth marble. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath, fingers curing into his palms, forming into frustrated fists. He couldn't die here. Not here, not now. He'd promised Liech he'd be back! He reached for something, anything to pull himself out again, the weight of the horse beginning to crush him. But the effort was in vain. And the more he struggled, the faster the poison spread. He couldn't see a way to escape fate at this point.

The blond squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath with the horse slowly smashing him into the floor. "Sorry . . . Arthur," he whispered, "I couldn't avenge Francis for you. I'm sorry . . ." He bit his lip as a wave of pain laced through his arm, "Sorry . . . Liech, for not coming back." He breathed in shakily, "I'm sorry . . . Roderich . . . For not being able to reach you in time. I couldn't . . . Couldn't save you . . ."

"You are forgiven."

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Antonio sat with his head in his hands, his mind far from the battle raging in the Main Hetalia castle far away. He groaned at the giggles and screeches and wails that surrounded him, cracking open an exhausted eye in annoyance. "Why are there so many freakin children in this place?" he grumbled to himself.

"Because there are," Gilbert said unhelpfully from the floor, where he was currently tied up with Ivan's scarf in a game of guards and robbers, playing the failed robber.

The Southwest Kingdom prince raised an eyebrow, "But there are seven of you in this room alone! I feel like Snow White!" he exclaimed. "And hell, I don't even know most of your names! And why was I placed on babysitting duty?!"

"Because that's just how it is," Ivan said, imitating Gilbert's earlier statement.

"And our names aren't that hard to remember," Gilbert chimed in. "Look," he pointed to himself, "I'm Gilbert, you can remember me because I'm awesome." He pointed to his companion leaning heavily against his shoulder, "And that's Ivan. We are both equally awesome. So together, we are doubly awesome. Remember it well."

He turned to the blanket on the floor where all the other children were huddled, "And over there is Natalia," he said, motioning towards the fair haired baby on hands and knees scootching slowly towards Ivan, "She's just starting to crawl, and she's the only girl." He turned the hand towards the next child with dark hair who was levering himself up onto chubby, wobbly legs using the sofa as a stabilizer, a determined look in his equally dark eyes. "That's Kiku," Gilbert explained, "He's probably going to be walking soon, so watch out." At the mention of his name, Kiku turned to look at the albino, promptly sneezed, and fell back down onto his butt, walking/standing efforts thrown to waste. The older boy merely laughed at this, turning to the next baby, or rather, pair of babies, "That's Lovino and Feliciano, they're the youngest. You brought them, you should know that much at least."

"Doesn't mean I can tell them apart," Antonio complained.

Gilbert gave him a you're hopeless look, "Feliciano is the happy one, and Lovi is the grumpy one. Like in the Seven Dwarves." He sighed in exasperation at Antonio's blank stare and motioned to the final child with slicked blond hair, laying on his stomach and gazing at Feliciano curiously, "And that's West. I mean . . . Ludwig. He's my little brother."

Ivan sighed as Antonio merely blinked in reply, draping his arms over Gilbert's shoulders lazily, "Oh, leave him be. He's booorrriiiiinnngg."

"Raaahh! I am not boring!" Antonio yelled, throwing his hands in the air as Ivan smirked broadly.

"Antonio!" Yao came skidding into the room, casting Ivan a brief smile before turning to the man, "Antonio, we need your help, please."

Antonio's eyes widened, "Wait, what? I know I was just complaining about babysitting, but I'd rather do that than baby . . . Delivering," he shuddered.

"Liech says 'get in there or die,'" Yao quoted with a serious look on his face, "We need more hands."

A few minutes later found Antonio wincing as his hand was crushed in Arthur's grip. "You could have told me that you needed literal hands!" he hissed, swearing he could hear his bones cracking.

Arthur took a shaky breath, opening bleary, pained eyes towards him, "S-sorry . . ." He whispered.

"S'okay," Antonio mumbled, squeezing his hand back lightly, "It's my fault anyway. The least I can do is stand here until my moron brother gets back, right?"

"Yeah," Arthur nodded, gripping the other's hand harshly again with the next contraction, crying out, "You . . . Might not . . . Get this hand back . . ." He panted, biting his lip to stifle another loud yell.

"It's a gift," Antonio laughed weakly, dabbing a damp cloth across the blonde's brow. He cast a nervous glance towards the opposite direction of the bed, "How's it going down there, Liech?"

The girl looked up from between Arthur's raised legs, something the Crown Prince tried to burn from his mind, covering his mortified face with his free hand. "The first one might be a breech birth," she said slowly, worry clear in her viridian eyes.

"And that is . . ." Antonio prompted.

"Born feet first and-"
"Hurts like shit!" Arthur gasped out, making Antonio yelp at the force his hand was being crushed with. The blond whimpered, pressing his face into one of the pillows that had been piled around him, cursing into the fabric.

"Ah, Yao, grab those towels, quick," Liech directed suddenly, "I can see the baby. Arthur, I'm going to need you to push now."

"What do you think I've been doing?!" Arthur snapped, the retort ending with another scream of pain.

"Oh, look, my fingers have gone purple," Antonio remarked to himself, "Lovely." He sighed and gripped the hand squishing his into oblivion in return, "Okay, Arthur. On the count of three. One, two . . ."

"Three already!" Arthur cried, his free hand twisting into the sheets in pain. He gasped as a suddenly empty, or rather, half empty feeling washed over him, opening his eyes to try and see over the edge of the bed.

"It's out," Yao said quietly. But besides that statement, he was frozen to the spot. Liech was holding the bundle of towels in her arms, eyes watering as she stared down at the child amidst the folds.

Arthur held his breath. Why wasn't there any crying? Babies always cried as soon as they were born, right? "Why isn't it crying?" he asked softly, straining to sit up, but Antonio held him down, eyes wide, "Why isn't my baby crying?!"

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Vash tried his best to blink away the bleary fog that clouded his eyes, to little avail. The fighting still raged on around him, but he paid it little heed. Someone's hand was gripping his, tightly, comfortingly. He could hear voices close by, sounding clearer than the battle cries and screams of dying agony besides.

"Merde, he's got the whole horse on top of him!"

"If it had fallen any higher, his ribs would have been crushed and he'd be dead."

"Can the two of you pull it off?" a third voice asked, this one right beside him, presumably the person holding his hand. It was a familiar voice, but Vash couldn't place it. His mind too hazy and unfocused to remember.

"Oui. Grab that leg, ami, and pull when I give the word."

"Right."

The blond turned his attention to the hand around his own, drawing his fingers across the person's palm dazedly.

"Pull!"

The palm and fingers were smooth, strikingly different from Vash's own battle-scarred hands. But he could feel old, light calluses on the very tips of the fingers, and he hummed softly to himself upon finding them. These were comforting, familiar hands, but he just couldn't seem to place them.

"One more time, ami. Pull!"

They reminded him of music, which he assumed was the reason these hands had such unnoticeable calluses from. He recalled sitting in the West castle when he was small, listening to beautiful melodies composed by gentle, still learning hands. Fingers that over time, no matter what, had always danced perfectly over black and white keys on the finest of pianos. But that thought, or maybe it was a memory, only made his heart hurt. He couldn't remember why it should though. Head that person who'd played such beautiful music gone somewhere? Somewhere far away?

"It's off!"

"Good lord that thing was heavy! My arms feel like jelly!"

The third voice was right near his ear, the hand not in his grasp shaking his shoulders, "Vash? Vash!" The hand trembled around his, the opposite one finding the wounds on his arm. The blond hissed as the cuts were touched, arching up in the other's grip. "He's been poisoned!" the voice spoke again, worry laced in its tone. Vash clenched his fingers against the hand around his as he was rolled over onto his side, head in the speaker's lap, injured arm facing up.

"What are you going to do? Are we too late?"

"No, no . . . Hush now, I'm going to suck out the poison," the comforting voice whispered. The gently callused hands tore off his sleeve, baring the swollen cuts towards him. Vash cried out as lips met the first wound, a searing, stinging pain piercing his arm as the poison's path began to reverse. His other hand not in the person's grasp struggled to find a handhold in the fabric of the person's clothes. "Hold him down! Don't let him move that arm, he'll make it worse!" Vash yelled as his arm was suddenly restrained, but the hand around his held him steady. So he tried to focus on that instead, pressing his face into the other's robes, gripping the smooth hand with gritted teeth.

"That's a lot of blood . . ."

"Oui . . ."

The person drew back, trailing gentle, callused fingertips over the wounds, "It tastes clean now. I think I got it all out." Vash twisted slightly in the other's cautious, cradling grip, staring up into dark-blue eyes gazing down at him through thin glasses as his vision began to clear. The blonde continued to stare blankly for a moment in disbelief before snapping his hand out of the other's, burying his face against the person's stomach, arms tangling around their waist.

"Vash?"
He couldn't decide whether he should curse out of anger and embarrassment, or cry from relief. So he settled for a little of both, "You . . . Fucking idiot!" he sobbed, "We thought you were dead! Stupid Roderich!"

Roderich laughed, relieved that the blond was responding properly again, "I apologize. I know it must have been hard, especially for you. But we couldn't return, I'm sorry."

At the word we Vash turned in Roderich's grip to catch sight of the people behind him. A woman with long brown hair was tucking a strand behind her ear, eyebrow raised. "I'm not sure whether I should be worried about the two of you, or be saving this image in my mind because it's too cute," Elizaveta said, eyeing the position Vash and her husband were in.

"A little of both maybe?" A tall man with shoulder-length fair blond hair and blue eyes commented lightly. "But I'm thinking that you and I should handle the rest of the mess here, right, Elizaveta? After all, I'm dying to get a shot at that prick king myself, hmm?"

"Right, Francis," Elizaveta smirked.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

"Why isn't my baby crying?! Arthur asked desperately, voice rising to a scream of dread and panic.

"Yao, Lich, hold him down!" Antonio commanded, standing up and tearing his hand from Arthur's grasp to take the unmoving infant from Liech. He ignored Arthur's anguished screams, backing up a good few steps from the bed, running fingers over closed eyes and mouth. Pushing the baby's mouth open, he blew a breath through the child's nose first, then sucking in swiftly through the mouth, gagging at the blood and birthing fluid that entered his own mouth instead. Spitting the stuff out on the floor, he repeated the movement, Arthur's screams echoing in his ears. He drew back once more, retching out the mouthful of horrid stuff he'd practically inhaled from the baby's lungs.

There was a strangled cough and Antonio blinked back tears as the infant in his arms choked and gasped, letting out an ear splitting wail. "He's all right!" he exclaimed, wiping a hand across his eyes to hide his tears. "It's a boy," he murmured almost to himself, and then louder, "It's a boy! He's all right!"

Arthur sobbed and sunk back into the mattress as Antonio laughed, practically bouncing over to him, screeching baby in hand. The blond blinked and reached up for the child, pulling him close as Antonio placed him in his arms. He whispered a silent thank you, relieved tears trickling out of emerald eyes as he rocked the infant in his arms. The boy had a fuzz of sandy-blond hair on his head, and Arthur bit his lip to hold back another strangled sob as he noticed the blue eyes, identical to Francis's.

"What are you going to name him?" Antonio asked, sitting on the edge of the bed again.

"Alfred," Arthur laughed, reality beginning to wash over him again, "That was the name Francis was dead set on. So since he was born first, his name is Alfred. Alfred Antonio Bonnefoy."

"Alfred Anto- What?!" Antonio stuttered.

"You saved his life," Arthur smiled, cradling the baby close.

Liech swooped in at that moment, taking the child from a reluctant Arthur. "Don't' forget that there's still one more. We don't want you to crush him, now do we?" She handed the newborn to Yao, "Go clean this one up. The next one should be much easier, so I can handle it."

Antonio winced as his hand was almost immediately crushed in Arthur's grip again. "I'll never be able to hold a blade properly after this," he muttered sourly.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

Roman didn't know how the fire started, since his men had tried so hard to prevent it from happening at all. They had wanted the castle intact, but he could see now that it would burn to the ground just as the North Fortress had. He could only assume that it was a soldier from the Main Hetalia army on the king's orders, and that was what unnerved him the most. If the king had given the order to set the castle aflame, then he was no longer inside its walls. "Get out!" he ordered his men, motioning towards the doors and windows around them. Third floor or not, jumping was a better option than death by smoke inhalation. And the trees around the walls had not yet caught fire. "Quick, everyone out! The king has escaped! Find him, cut him down!"

He'd started with surprise as one person raced past him. A girl. What was a young woman like that doing among his soldier's, wielding a blade no less? She looked to be well seasoned with it too. Her long brown hair was thrown over one shoulder and she brought her long-sword down across a Main Hetalia man's back as he tried to stop his men from escaping out the windows. Roman blinked, trying to recall where he'd seen her before. Wasn't she that Roderich boy's wife? But hadn't they both . . .

It was the next person who passed him that made his heart skip a beat in shock. Blond hair, blue eyes, so much like his deceased mother . . . "Francis!" he cried out, reaching out to grasp his son's arm.

"Father!" Francis too looked slightly off balance upon seeing the man for the first time in seven years.

"You're alive . . . Where were you all this time?"

"I got a little tied up, "Francis smiled apologetically. "You know, gashing wound to the stomach and all. Almost didn't make it. Roderich and Elizaveta carried me out of the castle, and it was weeks before I could even properly sit up again, let alone walk. Sorry I'm late."

"That husband of yours is going to eat you alive when you get back," Roman grinned. "Angsty little thing you captured with that one."

Francis flashed him a thumbs up, "That just makes the sex all the better!" He motioned towards one of the open windows, "You said the king escaped?"

"Had to have, otherwise he wouldn't let the castle burn to the ground." He shot a wary glance at the ceiling as the flames began to lick up the walls, tickling the edges of the wooden beams above, "Now get, I have to make sure everyone's out. Got it?"

The blond raised a skeptical eyebrow but edged backwards towards the window all the same, "Got it . . . See you in a few then?"

"Of course," Roman smiled, stepping forward as the beam above them creaked ominously. His eyes flicked up to it as it cracked and groaned and he lunged for Francis, shoving him out the window.

Francis yelled in surprise, landing in the boughs of a tree a floor below, flames exploding out through the window he'd fallen from. "No!" he cried, trying to untangle himself from the branches, only to be caught by Elizaveta from a lower perch.

"Let's get out of here, Francis! The room collapsed, there's nothing we can do!" she urged, pulling him down from the tree, "If you kill the king, everything they all did will be avenged."

The blond gritted his teeth, "I know."

Germania coughed as smoke billowed out down the hallway. Strangely enough, the fire had started from an upper floor, which made him suspect that the king had escaped somehow. He'd already sent his men out, and was running through the halls, checking for any stragglers. As he passed one room, he heard a moan and a cough and he faltered where he stood. The blonde eyed the room, almost completely consumed in orange and crimson flames. But he could have sworn he'd heard something.

He darted inside despite the fire as he caught sight of a mop of dark brown hair amidst a pile of rubble. He left his sword in the doorway, stumbling over to where a heavy ceiling beam had fallen, fingers finding a grip on the other side of it. "Roman! Roman you idiot, don't you dare be dead!"

A hand reached up and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from lifting the wood off of his companion. Roman looked up at the blond with clouded eyes, a weak smile on his face, "Don't lift it. Just get out of here."

"I'm not going to leave you here to burn!" Germania hissed, trying to reach the beam again, but Roman's strong grip held him back.

"That thing crushed my spine," Roman smiled, "I'll die instantly if you lift it away. So . . . Please . . . Leave before you get hurt too."
Germania slowly sunk down to his knees, blue eyes wide with shock, "No . . ." He twisted his hand so that it gripped the other man's. "That . . . That can't be . . ."

"Go," Roman urged desperately. "Get out of here."

The blonde's eyes darkened at his, "I can't do that, Rome."

"Wh-what? Get out you idiot! You'll die if you stay here!"

A small smile pricked at the corners of Germania's mouth, "I know." He lay down until he was on his stomach, eye level with the other High Prince. "But . . . It's okay if I die here. It's okay."
"Stop that. Please don't do this," Roman pleaded, gripping the other's shoulders, "You have two little kids at home, Germania!"

"Two strong children," Germania murmured, pressing his face into the crook of Roman's neck, "They can get by without me."

Roman's hands shook as they curled around Germania's back, another beam crashing down nearby. "The floor's going to give out soon . . ." he whispered.

"Probably," Germania replied lightly, as if it didn't really matter to him.

The dark haired man pressed as close as he could without removing himself from beneath the wood holding his body together. "Hey, Germania?" He waited as the other murmured a soft, "hmm," near his ear. "That boy . . . Ludwig . . . Is that . . ."

"Yeah," Germania whispered.

Roman laughed, tears leaking out of his dark eyes, "That was some drunken night, wasn't it? Two years ago almost now, wasn't it."

"Two years ago today exactly," Germania huffed. "He's quite a terror you know. Always hiding like you did when you were young. Likes being by himself more than he likes being with others."

"What? That's like you, stupid! I was the one who always came to find you when we were little," Roman complained.

"Really, I could have sworn it was the other way around . . ."

"Wasn't," Roman snorted. He buried his face against the other's neck again, repressing more tears. "It's sad, really. Don't you think? He won't remember either of us. He's too little. How pitiful."

"Gilbert knows. He'll tell Ludwig when he's old enough to understand," Germania replied softly.

"Hey . . . Germania?" Roman murmured weakly, his eyelids begging to drop.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry . . . Sorry it had to be this way . . ." He inhaled a shallow breath, "Sorry that I never told you . . . That . . . I . . ."

Germania drew back a bit, "That you what?" Roman didn't answer. "Roman, stay with me! What were you going to say?! Roman!" He bit his lip as the hands against his back slackened their grip, and he squeezed his eye shut to hold back the wave of grief that washed over him. The floor shifted beneath them and he pressed his face against the shoulder of the other's unmoving body with a strangled, anguished noise. "Me too . . . Roman. I'm sorry. But I . . . Me too . . . Always. Always, always, always."

Francis was over a thousand yards from the castle when it collapsed. And he did not turn around to see it happen, holding a hand to his eyes, trying not to let Elizaveta see his knowing tears.

^-^ ^-^ ^-^

The second infant's fuzz of hair was a lighter shade of blond, much more like Francis's than Arthur's. And his eyes were slightly darker than Alfred's, almost a light lavender rather than blue. Arthur smiled to himself as he held both children, a tired, but content smile.

"Two boys, huh?" Antonio commented from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "What's the other one going to be named?"
"Matthew," Arthur murmured. "I can't decide on a middle name though. What do you think?" He laughed softly as Antonio stared blankly at him, "Does Matthew Roman Bonnefoy sound halfway decent?"

Antonio grinned, "After mine and Francis's dad? That's great! He'll be so excited when you tell him that." He held up a hand, naming out the letter of the child's name, "M, R, B. As long as it doesn't spell anything, you can give the kid any middle name you want, really."

"Spell anything?" Arthur echoed, raising a characteristic eyebrow questioningly.

"You don't want to know," Antonio said immediately, waving a hand like the subject itself was a bad omen, "My dad has a sick sense of humor sometimes. Alfred is actually Francis's middle name, did you know? So what does that spell?"

"FAB?" Arthur snorted, "As is short for fabulous? Good lord, that's perfect."

"His is halfway decent," Antonio muttered. "You don't even want to know mine."

"Can I guess it?"

"No," Antonio commanded, standing up from the side of the bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go keep a lookout for Liech and our victorious returning soldiers. And you," he turned to point an accusing finger at the blond, "You . . . Get some sleep. Or you'll be too tired to greet everyone. And they'll all want to see you, so, sleep!"

Arthur laughed as the other man left, "Right, right. I'll sleep in a little bit, don't worry about me." But as soon as the door closed softly behind Antonio, Arthur turned back to the infants balanced in his arms. No matter how cliché it sounded, he couldn't stop looking at them. And if he hadn't already promised Antonio he'd get some sleep, he would have stayed awake all night just watching them. He could see bits and pieces of Francis in the both of them. Their eyes, Matthew's wavy light hair, Alfred's fine eyebrows. Arthur laid back against the pillows, closing his eyes and biting his lip. It would be a dark reality after the battle was over. He'd have to run a kingdom with four children to take care of, and no one at his side. Lifting his hand up towards the moonlight spilling through the window, he caught the glint of the silver band on his ring finger. His hand clenched into a fist, and he sighed in remorse that for now, the matcher to the ring was still nowhere to be found.

When Arthur awoke again it was still dark out, but when he tilted his head towards the window, he could just make out the faintest rays of the rising sun. Pink hues on the edges of a midnight-black sky. His arms were still around the twins, the pair nestled tightly against his chest. He hadn't let them go, even in his sleep. Smiling to himself, he glanced towards the other side of the room, specifically at the door. There were no sounds of returning soldiers, so he closed his eyes again.

A hand rested in his hair, briefly skimming through golden locks before falling back to the mattress. Arthur kept his eyes closed, a feeling of contentment washing over him at the touch. He remembered this hand, larger than his own, rough from the practice of battle, gentle with love. Ah, he thought to himself, this is his hand. A dream.

"Francis, why haven't you come to find me yet?" he whispered, deciding to scold the illusion, blinking open his eyes to stare into the sky-blue of the other man.

Francis was leaning on the edge of the bed, head resting in his folded arms, cheek on the mattress. He smiled, "I'm sorry, cherie. I couldn't come to you right away, no matter how much I wanted to."

"Hmm . . ." Arthur hummed to himself, "I know. You would have been here long before now if you could have." Emerald eyes slid closed again, "They look like you, you know?"

"Oh? Enlighten me," Francis murmured.

"They both have your eyes," the younger man smiled. "And they're sorta chubby, just like you."

"I am offended," Francis smiled, reaching out to take Arthur's hand.

Arthur opened his eyes again, gazing at him dazedly, "Francis . . . When will you come back? It . . . It hurts, so bad . . . I don't know how long I can take it."

Francis kissed the other's upturned palm reassuringly, "No matter where I am in the world, Angleterre, I will always be with you."

The younger blond snorted and turned away, "That's a cheesy answer, frog."

"I know."

The next time Arthur opened his eye, the sun was just barely above the horizon. The twins were starting to sniffle, so he sat up, swinging his legs out of bed with a groan before carrying them to the kitchen. To his surprise, there was no one in there. Usually, Yao and Liech were already bustling about making the other children breakfast. But this morning, the room was absolutely deserted. He stared at the emptiness for a moment before shrugging it off and opening a cabinet, searching for the powdered milk that Liech had said she'd leave out the night before.

He mixed up two bottles, placing them in boiling water to heat them up the desirable temperature, testing it on his wrists before he sat down on the counter, Matthew on his lap and Alfred in the crook of his arm. Arthur hummed softly to himself as he fed them, mind straying back to last night. He smiled, "Hard to believe you were still inside of me twenty-four hours ago," he murmured to the infants, shifting their positions so that he Matthew in his arm instead. "We have a long road ahead, don't we? A kingdom to run and only one daddy to do it." His smile faltered slightly, but he held it in place. "Let's go bother Antonio now. That should be interesting. And he probably has news from the Main Hetalia castle by now."

Arthur hopped off the counter, baby in each arm, and made his way out of the kitchen and down the hall. He paused outside of Ivan's room, but noticed immediately that the boy wasn't in there, so he carried on. It was starting to become slightly unnerving how eerily silent it was in the castle. The blond stopped near the entrance to the common room, startled to hear a multitude of voices from inside. He jumped as the side of his pants was suddenly grabbed, Ivan staring up at him wordlessly with shining lavender eyes.

The blond grinned when he saw the gathered crowd, spread out across couches and tables. Liech was bustling between them, passing out bandages and water as she went. Antonio was sitting with Gilbert on his lap and Ludwig balanced on his shoulders. Both Antonio and the albino child looked rather somber, but smiled at him when he entered the room. Vash was perched on the back of a sofa, his right arm that was swollen and red from poison and heat from the fire was being wrapped by Roderich, who sat with his knees on the couch, gently binding the arm.

It was then that Arthur's heart stopped. Roderich. Roderich ha died in the fire of the North Fortress. This couldn't be. At that moment, Elizaveta skipped out of the crowd towards him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He stared at her in shock, gazing at her bloodstained armor and then closing his eyes as if blinking away a mirage. "What . . ."

"Happy to see us?" she laughed, "Surprised? We're sorry about not getting here earlier, but we had injured party members." Elizaveta smiled, "And look, I missed the babies being born. I'm disappointed."

"So am I," another voice laughed from behind Arthur, making his eye widen in disbelief. "I mean, you couldn't have held them in or something?"

"You can't hold a baby in," Elizaveta scoffed, "It's not like holding in poop or anything. Which you shouldn't do, by the way. It's bad for you."

Arthur stood completely still, not daring to turn and face the other speaker in case he was hallucinating, and hardly daring to breathe unless he woke up from whatever dream this was, "Angleterre, you're standing like a tree doing that, you'll hurt your back." A hand rested on his shoulder, the same hand that had messed with his hair the night before.

Tears began to trickle out of Arthur's emerald eyes, and he choked on them, letting Elizaveta take the twins from him before whirling around to face the other. He stared in shock for a moment before flinging his arms around the other man with a strangled, relieved cry. Francis laughed, hugging him close, murmuring meaningless things into his ear as he tried to sooth him. The taller of the two kneeled down on the floor, taking Arthur with him, pulling him as close as he could, "Shhh . . . Shhh . . . Cherie, I know . . . But I promise here and now, to never, ever, leave you alone again. I'm sorry I took so long."

"Idiot," Arthur sobbed, pressing his face into the folds of Francis's clothes. "I was so sure . . . I saw you get stabbed . . . I was sure you had died . . . Even though I . . . I kept telling everyone you were still alive . . ." He hiccupped, repressing another sob. "And last night . . . Alfred . . . Francis, I was so scared . . ."

Francis untangled one arm from around the other man, reaching out for Elizaveta to hand him one of the children. He pushed Arthur back a bit, cradling the baby in one arm before taking the other. "Which one is Alfred, mon cherie?"

Arthur smiled, wiping a hand across his eyes, "This one, with the slightly dark hair," he took the infant from his spouse, tucking him into the crook of his arm, "And this one is Matthew."

"Those are good names," Francis whispered. He smiled, reaching with his free hand that wasn't holding Matthew to pull Arthur to him again, kissing his forehead lightly, "Two beautiful sons. You did good, Angleterre."

Arthur smiled in return, blinking as his nightclothes were tugged on by Ivan from behind, "Actually, we have four children," he said, ruffling Ivan's hair, "Ivan, Natalia, Alfred, and Matthew."

"There's going to be no time at all for sex, is there," Francis sighed, scooping up Ivan and plopping the boy down onto his lap. "Oh well . . ."

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Arrrrggghhhhh . . . . School. Anywho . . . This chapter took SOOO long! I'm sorry, those of you waiting for the new LDoH chapter as well, but this had priority, sort of.

And yes, I am a secret Austria/Switzerland fan. But I have a rule of supporting at least one straight pair in every anime/manga. So if I went all out with that fandom too, I'd destroy both straight pairs I like, Switzeland/Liechtenstein and Austria/Hungary. So I added meaningless fluff for them here. Ignore it if you wish. And the Rome/Germania stuff is based on the fact that I am so confused about Holy Roman Empire's origins. His dad is Germania, it says so in the stats. But his granddad is Rome? But everyone knows that Rome isn't any of their granddad. He's actually their father, but says he's not. So . . . HRE/Germany is the child of Rome and Germania then, right? So I added suggestions of that here.

*sigh* I'm beat right now, but I've barely started on the new LDoH, so back to work. D:

But I was f-ing around with Windows Movie Maker for a bit yesterday, so I can only blame myself. But I really like the vid I made. I think I included every pairing I like except for Rome/Germania. But they're a bit hard to find stuff for, so whatever.

Net chapter will be a short little bonus thing with Francis and Arthur's family life a few months from the current date, before we skip over a few years to Alfred's childhood.

Oh, and I seem to get more reviews when I hand out threats. You masochists. Lol. So here, REVIEW OR GILBERT AND IVAN WILL TIE YOU UP AND BEAT YOU!