Hetalia - The Cold of War
Chapter 21! Ha, I can only apologise for the long delay, school has been busy with university application and the like. While I would love to continue pumping this story out, over the next two-three weeks or so I will be having mock exams so it will be extremely unlikely any new content will be posted within that time frame. Fear not though! For after that horrid period passes, I'll be back in action, just perhaps a little slower then before. Anyway, thank you all who reviewed as always, you guys are the reason I keep coming back. And without further ado, the next chapter!
Enjoy!
The Nordic Kingdom, The Royal Palace, The Entrance Courtyard.
Pinned down to the dirty ice coated cobbles under a crushing metal net, Allistor Kirkland waited for the bite of his own backstabbing steel. Waited with teeth on edge for it to cleave through his head and dash his brains out so that the crimson mess would splatter against the too innocent snow. In front of where he lay, Natasha raised the hefty tomahawk and, as any good executioner would, slung it down without hesitant nor mercy. It's slice vibrated through the air and it's death whistle shilled. It was the end for Allistor Kirkland, the man who had once been the proud unwavering pillar of strength to his Brothers. In his darkest hour despair toiled and ultimately reigned, and so, Allistor closed his eyes and waited. But then,
Fate!
Natasha abruptly screamed as a crossbow bolt impaled itself into her raised arm, the hesitant axe slipped out of her grip and clattered loudly to the ground as she spastically recoiled . She stumbled back and was immediately enveloped by her guards, the black armoured men protectively covering her as she limped away back to the road to the whirring warsships.
"All men retreat, we fall back now!" She shrilly commanded as she was ushered away, the bolt lodged in her arm had began to drip tiny droplets of blood in at trail after her. Allistor struggled to turn his head to the crossbow wielder and glimpsed the rebel general himself, more colour in his cheeks then when he had passed him on his way here. With his mental and emotional state a wreck, Allistor's distracted eyes missed the blur that shot past him and only just heard Vlad cry out. The blur was a small asian man; a look of cold determination flashing in his dark eyes as he closed in on Vlad before he had a chance to run. The frantic sorcerer, with a yelp wildly threw an inexperienced punch in a weak attempt to stay the speedster, but the attacker was already upon him. The man smoothly caught Vlad's punch and pulled the arm out straight, before he snapped the elbow up with a sharp strike upwards. The sorcerer shrieked as his arm broke and the Asian one spun and kicked the soft section behind his knees, forcing Vlad to kneel. The man whipped out a knife from his belt as he snaked his other arm around Vlad's windpipe, pressing the point of the blade threateningly to his temple. As the Imperial soldiers disappeared from sight in the blizzard back to their ship, Ludwig strode forward with shoulders back and jaw squared; dark strains blotted his crinkled olive green uniform.
"Are there more? Was this the only assault garrison deployed?" He interrogated as he pressed the crossbow's loaded bolt tip into Vlad's quivering neck as the prisoner gulped and frantically shook his strawberry blonde head.
"There's no more. There was the only squadron, I promise. Only one". Ludwig cocked his head as he observed the shivering man. Behind him more surviving rebels filtered towards them from across the blood patched yard.
"They brought you here as a sorcerer, and yet they don't seem concerned about leaving you behind" Ludwig mused and a line formed between Vlad's brows.
"They have something much more valuable then a sorcerer" He dejected with a small shake of his head, as though he actually pitied the man he had assisted capturing. There was a pregnant pause as the blood chilling truth of the loss settled on the men's minds; with Arthur and a third of their numbers gone, the strength of the Rebel now seemed feeble. The Imperial's assault had left the North with scars that would never heal. Ludwig only shook his head with a set jaw he motioned for the prisoner to the brought as he turned and headed back to the palace, a glint of something sinister in his eye. With a grunt that drew the attention of passing northern soldiers to come help, Allistor managed to lift himself to one knee as the hefty chain net was slowly pulled off him. Once free, Allistor numbly scanned the yard; his empty eyes settled on the limb body of the American Arthur had taken to. As the rebels came into the yard to clean up the wounded and dead, Allistor clumsily heaved over to the still youth. Another wave of misery rolled over him as he saw what his little brother had done.
The boy's neck was a blistered bloody red, and where Arthur had clearly strangled him, the black-purple bruised impression of a hand sickeningly bloomed. Allistor cautiously crouched above the gaping chapped mouth and listened for a sign of life. When he felt no breath on his ear, Allistor looked for the life force flame and took a sharp inhale of breath when he saw it was but an ember; the boy nearly dead. The surge of the magic-adrenaline shot through Allistor's veins as he invoked his magic and firmly pressed his hands against Alfred's unmoving chest. He fought with himself as he forced his healing factor to transfer into the foreign body before it. The Scot weakened as his healing factor temporarily flooded into it's new host, the chest jumped as though it had been electrically shocked and the boy's faintly beating heart thundered . Knowing that at least Alfred would survive the empty night, Allistor roughly lurched out the way as a cotton stretcher was brought forward and the American loaded and taken away. The Scot huffed as they went and felt his leaded limbs wobble in exhaustion, already feeling the draining effects of his absent healing factor. Gods, he didn't care who it was for, he was never doing that again. Little puffs of snow caught in his jade eyes as Allistor looked to the Imperial airships that faded away into the grey snow clouds; Arthur bound and alone on one of them.
But Allistor didn't trust himself to think of his brother. The thought threatened to paralyse him as he stood. Even as he deliberately avoid it, his resolve quivered like a bow string strung too tight as he was barely able to hold himself together with a kind of nervous tension, shaky and unstable. With the slightest disturbance and he'd fracture.
A touch on his arm caused Allistor to turn and spied Lukas at his elbow, the fellow sorcerer's dismayed eyes bouncing from the blood patterned yard to the Deadman corpses and then back to Allistor's dulled ones.
"I came as soon as I sensed the light. Allistor, that power… that was not of this Earth. What was that? Where is Arthur?" Lukas trailed off as he saw the typhoon of pain surge behind Allistor's eyes, eyes that looked shattered beyond broken "He- he can't be, Arthur, they- he's gone?" Allistor didn't find the strength to even left his head in a nod. Lukas grasped his heart as he huffed over the titanic weight of the loss, his paled hands shaking uncontrollably as sorrow and guilt consumed him. Unable to stop the torturous thoughts of 'What if?; what if I still had my eyes? would I have been able to save them?'. Even as the inward storm raged inside his skull, Lukas put on his brave face as he practically moved to support Allistor, allowing him to heavily lean his weight onto him as they staggered to join the flowing current of rebels into the Entrance hall.
"They took him," Allistor whispered as they slowly trudged inside the hurting palace "His Grace, that tha old man an' I worked ta keep sealed, woke up. He's- Arthur's, no longer fully human". The Entrance hall was cramped and stank of blood and sweaty men, many of which were laid down in packed rows on top of dirty cloths. Red faced physicians feverishly darted about and scrambled from patient to patient, arms overloaded with bandages and bottles of alcohol to disinfect wounds. The air was stuffy and hectic with no clear direction and the King and his right man were worryingly nowhere in sight. Lukas blunderingly dragged Allistor over to an empty bench where Allistor heavily slumped down and dropped his head into his hands. Concerned to get on with Allistor's medical examination, Lukas unclasped Allistor's cloak off him and pulled his tunic top over his head before he began; wincing when he saw the purple bruises that decorated Allistor's ribs and stomach.
"Gods have mercy. I suspected something unnatural because of the oddity in his life force flame, but I never thought. The mere idea of it is inconceivable at best. What have you done to yourself Allistor, why hasn't this healed already?" Lukas questioned as he prodded Allistor's battered ribs before he pressed his warm glowing palms to the damage and focused on healing the internal bleeding.
"They took him, they'll get his Name," Allistor hollowly continued, lost in his own shock "He'll be on the Emperor's leash forever an' I'll be powerless ta do anything. I've failed; I failed as a sorcerer to protect one of our own, I failed as a son to keep his father's one wish and, I failed as a brother…". The eldest Kirkland stopped and clenched his hands into tight fists, strands of autumn red hair painfully pulled taunt in their grasp. "I don't have tha right ta carry tha name-"
"You have the only right" Lukas firmly interrupted, his voice overbearingly strong compared to Allistor's trembling one, the wise aged voice spoke the truest of advice. "There is no one more worthy. Do not think yourself weak Allistor, there is no dishonour in bearing a bleeding heart. Let us move away from the wounded, then we may mourn in peace" Allistor didn't look up when Lukas rose to his feet and began to lead him away. Neither said a word when they travelled down into the deepest, darkest, most private chambers below the Nordic Kingdom. It was after Lukas guided him to a small circular room and closed the creaky door, that Allistor Kirkland crumpled to his knees after concealing the hurt for so long and wrapped his shuddering arms around himself; trying to hold his quaking frame together.
He howled and cursed and wept, and then did the whole bloody thing all over again in the vicious cycle. His hammering heart clenched and fought against him as he tried to raise himself off his front, only to find his strength had also betrayed him. He managed to lift his head before it gave up and thudded back down, the pain rattling his brain inside his skull. Allistor rose again as saw that there was a resulting red smudge now. A spark, a cruel sense of control crept into his manic mind. He did it again, intentionally this time, and found the pain easier then the loss of his brother. Again, again and again until Allistor lost count how many times he slammed his bleeding forehead against the hard stone. Resilient until whatever minimal power he had left to fled him, dirty traitors that abandoned him and left him alone to his nightmarish reflections.
Oh Allistor... Yeah so Allistor didn't die! I honestly don't think I could bring myself to kill off one of my favourite characters, he's too fun to write for. Not much plot advancement but rather feeling the aftermath of the battle. The North remembers ;). So the next chapter I plan to write is going to be fun, checking in our little bound Angel, look forward to it.
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you are enjoying this series and wish to see it long continue, then please consider leaving a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Any writing criticism is welcomed, of course I want to improve and it'll make reading my content more enjoyable for you to. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,
Until next time folks!