Chapter 7: the end?!
Authors note: it's with pride and great pleasure I wrap up the story and hope you will all find the ending as complete and satisfying as I did.
When one wakes up tied to a chair with no recollection of how one gets there one panics. As it so happened Alfred was in this situation and like any one would do was panicking. He kicked and clawed with nails he didn't have, bitten to nubs…not by him of course, and flailed violently until he succeeded on knocking himself over and on slamming his chin upon someone's shoe.
Not realizing someone had come in he strained his neck up and gasped. His memory came back as he looked at his father who had become different since he last saw him at Alfred's house.
Besides the fact he was taller than Alfred with Alfred sprawled on the floor, his father's hair was smoothed back and father's eyes were, cold, and narrowed; but most disturbing was either the dark clearly magical waves he was giving off or the fact he was holding a long sharp knife.
"WHY!?" he screamed bending down in Alfred's face. Alfred flinched opening his mouth to speak but unable to answer. His father covered his mouth eyes slightly softer.
"shhhh shhh my little boy, so pretty, such soft skin," he bent down and kissed Alfred's cheek. It was different back when Alfred had been a kid and a kiss on the cheek was a reward or a token of affection filled with warmth and love.
He always had loved his father's kisses the best, France's having been to scratchy because of his beard; but his dad's were always just right to prevent his tears or comfort him. This time however his lips were cold and instead of love he could feel a chilling lust all the way from his head to his toes. Then the ropes suddenly became no more than little severed strings after one flick of Arthur's knife.
Alfred wouldn't call him his father for this man groveling beside him this man pressing his lips against his, whose wandering hands didn't make him feel safe but rather vulnerable and powerless was not his father. Sure he fought Arthur trying to gently push his off him growing more uncomfortable by the minute, but part of him, curse his stupid inner child, couldn't bear to hurt his dad.
However when the hands started wandering too much and he felt a burning tongue slip its way into his mouth searching and marking its territory a pissed off and beyond embarrassed Alfred drew the line. Using his feet he kicked hard and watched with a mix of satisfaction and horror as his father rocketed back hitting the cabinet with a skinning thud.
"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM ARTHUR!" he hollered jumping to his feet and straightening his shirt and pants.
"Your father…," he retorted liking his lips and standing up seemingly unfazed. Then without warning he lunged forward knife extended, eyes darkening and nicked Alfred's ear who ducked missing near decapitation and swearing loudly. Being a country though young as he was, Alfred had been through multiple military training most that came to him through instinct; however it was a different ball game when vs. another country. Also despite the height and weight,…not in a fat or bad way, that Alfred had as an advantage his f…, no Arthur was more experienced by far and had more skills…., not to say that would ever be admitted out loud, so Alfred's chances of winning all were slim especially now that perverted daddy had now been transformed into psycho killer daddy.
That was all the time for thinking Alfred had because psycho killer daddy had whirled around and this time came at him head on. Then as the met fists hitting fists collided like a perfectly time routine, and kicks deflected, both of them using everything from chairs to knifes to throw at the other.
They were no longer countries; no longer family this was a clear matter of survival, and if there's one thing countries become engraved with at birth it's just that. Finally Arthur landed a blow which sent Alfred stumbling back his head hitting the concrete floor, followed by a chair leg skillfully swung by his father hitting him upside the head.
Blood clotted his vision and he knew it was the end, panic took over, but even stronger than that was him remembering something…someone. He remembered a boy with light blond hair, with brilliant violet eyes, and whose smile made him feel like he was king of the world, Mathew…his Mattie…..his brother…..he had failed him yet again…and this time his brother really would be all alone.
Arthur lifted the chair leg up again and Alfred caught a glimpse of black pit less eyes and a long twisting tongue. Then the chair leg made contact with his head and Alfred's world went black.
Authors note: JUST KIDDING~! I apologize but no need to worry for this is far from the end, I'd even go so far as to say it was merely a glimpse of the beginning.
Side note:
Alfred: R.I.P for the brave hero who never rises again.
Mathew: *at the table eating pancakes* some hero you were killed by a chair leg, not even a whole chair….
Alfred: y….y….yeah well…it…it had a lot of magical voodoo.
Mathew…magical voodoo?
Alfred: precisely! I died a heroic hero
me: *nonchalantly* I would let that slide….if you had really died.
Mathew, Alfred: WHAT?!
me: *at the table also eating pancakes* shhh I'm trying to come up with a dramatic ending
Alfred: you mean begging?
Mathew: *spits out mouthful of pancake* OMG!
Alfred: what?
Mathew: YOU WERE ACTUALLY PAYING ATTENTION!
Alfred: *slugs Mathew which leads to a punching match over the table*
me: I SWEAR IF I OWNED HETALIA I'D GROUND YOUR SORRY $$es!