=Note= Hey guys! Sorry it took forever for me to officially begin this story. I just got a new laptop so this means I get to work on this story (and many others) more now and hopefully finish them. I seen the follows and a lot more people are following this story than I honestly expected. And it wasn't even officially chapter one! You guys are awesome!

Anyways, here's chapter one of British Butler.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

And as for the pairings….eh, might not be any. We'll see though!

Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a badass butler. He can clean, shoot a gun, and teach you how to properly drink tea. Just don' let him cook! Part of what makes im badass is that he's British!

=IAL=

British Butler

Chapter 1: My Butler, the Violinist

The sweet, smooth sound of a violin echoed off of the walls of the Bonnefoy Manor. Each not was hit perfectly, the soft hum of the melody. But soon after, a sour note screeched, distasteful to the ears.

An Austrian man winced, quickly covering his ears at the horrible sound. A young blonde boy, around the age of nine, tried to concentrate hard despite the sour sounds of his notes. Hs tongue was peeked out from between his lips, a scowl of complete determination on his innocent childish face.

"Alfred!" the Austrian cried out in agony. "Please lad, stop for goodness sake!"

The boy immediately stopped, blinking in confusion at the man's outburst.

"Is there something wrong?" the boy innocently asked. Roderick sighed, closing his eyes and daintily pressed his fingers on his temples.

Listen to me boy," he said with repressed frustration. "I am only being honest with you. That was way worst than the first time!"

"I thought I did well," he young boy, Alfred, said with a pout.

"No no," Roderick said. "That was horrible. Absolutely horrible. Do you realize that you're performing in a few days? And where have we gone? Absolutely nowhere! What on earth are we going to do? What will the master think?"

"Oh, off if Roderick! Don't over work the boy!" a woman with long wavy brown hair said as she entered he room. "I hear you snapping at him from across the manor! He's doing his best, I'm sure. After all, no one's as good as you musically."

Roderick huffed, crossing his arms and wagging the bow of his violin at the Hungarian woman. "Do not try to swoon me with those words, Elizaveta. I know that trick."

"Well, get off the boy why don't you?" Elizaveta scolded. "At least he's improving!"

Little Alfred sighed as the two continued to bicker. He slid off his seat, dragging his violin behind as he slipped out of the room. Closing the door, he sighed sliding slowly to the ground onto his knees.

It was true. He had to perform in front of the dukes and duchesses in a couple of days as a tribute to the anniversary of the two rich family's partnership. His father, Francis Bonnefoy, the head of the manor, suggested that he learned to play the violin. In result of that, Roderick was hired to teach him how to properly play the instrument. Alfred didn't have to play originally but he wanted to please his father in the best way he could.

Sadly it wasn't working out too good and his practices were getting worse and more stressful as the day came closer.

Huffing, Alfred kicked his violin with a pout. "I hate this thin," he mumbled angrily. So much for trying to please his father.

"My, my," came a soft, smooth British voice. "I thought you were supposed to be practicing young master."

Alfred snapped his head up, his baby blue eyes connecting with emerald green ones.

A fairly tall man with messy blonde hair and green eyes came walking his way. He had rather bushy eyebrows but was still very handsome. He wore a black suit with a blue tie tucked in. White gloves clothed his hands and his shoes shone in the lighting. He was currently holding a silver tray with two cups of hot tea, a platter of sugar cubes and a jar of cream.

The blonde man came to a halt before the boy, a slight scowl on his face.

"Not meaning to intrude, but aren't you supposed to b practicing?" he asked Alfred. "You're not giving up are you?"

"I don't like the way he teaches me," Alfred mumbled, breaking eye contact with the other. "He's always yelling at me and insulting me."

Arthur raised a brow, kneeling before the boy, placing the tray beside him. He pulled the other's chin up, making direct eye contact. "Your father won't be pleased now will he?" he asked sternly. Alfred shrugged.

"It's not like anything I do is good enough for him anyways," Alfred bluntly said. "Besides, I really didn't want to play at this stupid event."

"Yes you did," Arthur said. "If you did not, you wouldn't have suggested it. And you are just saying that so that you can give up." Arthur smiled, standing at his full height while picking up the tray. "And that's far from the truth. Come long now, young master. At least finish up your lesson for the day!"

Arthur pushed the door open, only to be greeted with Elizeveta waving a frying pan at the Austrian instructor.

"I say, I see why the boy doesn't want to pursue his lessons," Arthur said slightly over their loud arguing. Elizeveta stopped her shouting, looking over to see a not-so-amused Arthur and a nervous Alfred.

"Oh, Arthur," she said hiding her pan behind her back. "I was checking on the progress of young master."

"Shouldn't you be preparing a meal for master Bonnefoy and the duke?" Arthur asked with a raised brow. "I suggest you get to it immediately."

"YYes sir," Elizeveta said, quickly walking out of the room.

Roderick straightened his tie, clearing his throat. "I thought she'd never leave," he said. "I say, she's not much of a lady-"

"It will be greatly appreciated if you teach young master properly instead of insulting him, you bloody git," Arthur hissed. "It'll be on your ass if he learns nothing and embarrass himself and the family."

"Wha!?" Roderick said eyes wide in shock. "Are you accusing me of not doing my job right?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I am indeed doing my best, but it's like the boy isn't giving his all!"

Alfred winced at the tone, gripping Arthur's pants tightly. Arthur patted his head comfortingly, scowling at the other man. "Let's take a small break," he said. "We have a couple more days, am I right? Let's let the lad rest"

"Thank God!" Roderick said, accepting the tea offer.

Arthur rolled his eyes, looking down at Alfred who was glaring at the Austrian. He chuckled, gently pushing the child towards the door. "Come along," he said with a smile. "We have lunch to present."

=IAL=

"Can you teach me how to play the violin?" Alfred asked with his mouth full.

"Please lad, use manners," Arthur chastised. Letting out a sigh, he took a napkin and wiped Alfred's cheek that had sauce on it. "And I don't know. I have a lot to do around here.

"You can ask my dad," Alfred suggested with a twinkle in his eye. "He knows you and I are close! So why not?"

"I don't know," Arthur sighed, refilling Alfred's teacup. "Your father and I…aren't the best of friends."

"Why?" Alfred curiously asked.

"It's complicated," Arthur said with a scowl. "Nothing you should worry about."

Alfred nodded slowly, chewing his food.

"How do you know I can play the violin anyways?" Arthur asked. Alfred shrugged.

"I hear you play all of the time during the night."

"You were up after your bedtime?" Arthur asked with a disapproved frown.

"No," Alfred answered with nervousness. "I heard you from my room. Besides, you were awesome!

"Is that so?" Arthur asked with a smile. "I am a monster at Beethoven.

Alfred giggled, pushing himself from the table and smiled up at Arthur. "We should start now! I want to learn from you."

"Now young master," Arthur said. "I have to assist your father today for dinner."

"Can't Elizeveta do that?" Alfred whined. "I want you to teach me!"

"We have all the time in the world," Arthur tried to calmly explain but his patience was quickly running thin. "You should get ready for bed."

Alfred sighed as Arthur closed the door, enveloping him in the room that was slowly setting.

=IAL=

An aristocrat with perfectly blonde hair that was a length to his shoulders took a sip of his wine, humming in approval.

"This is a fine choice, Arthur," he said in a smooth voice. "Remind me to reward you later."

"Anything my lord," Arthur bowed in respect. It's the same bloody wine you use for guests you git! He growled in his mind while he filled the elegant glass with the blood red color liquid.

Francis sighed with bliss, leaning back in his seat. He weaved his fingers under his chin, staring at the British gentleman with a slight, coy smile. "You look rather dashing this evening Arthur," he purred. "Are those new gloves?"

Arthur rolled his eyes as he placed the other's food in front of him. Holding back a snappy remark at the Frenchman's witty flirting attempts, he allowed himself to smile coldly.

"You've noticed?" he asked with slight sarcasim.

Francis chuckled, taking the wine and pressing the glass to his lips. "No need to be so tense, amour," he said. "I only kid. You are so tense my little English boy."

Arthur felt his temper rise but was saved by the opening of the doors. Catching both attentions, Elizeveta entered in. Bowing slightly, her long hair rained over her shoulders. "Excuse me sir," she said. "The duke of Prussia is here…and as annoying as ever," she mumbled the last part.

Francis gave a cheerful laugh, beckoning with his finger. "Oh please let him in quickly. I have been expecting him! Arthur, bring out the first course please."

"Yes master," Arthur hissed, bowing stubbornly and exiting. Sensing the vibe, Francis' happy mood switched quickly, a scowl taking over his face.

"Oh. And Arthur," he called in a annoying voice just to coax a reaction.

"What is it?" Arthur turned with a scowl on his own face. Francis gave a sinister smile, blue eyes darkening.

"Let's not forget our deal, non?" he purred. "I own you now. This means that you show me some respect whether you want to or not."

Arthur glared hard at the grinning male, wanting so bad to smack that grin from his face. Eyes clouding over and fists clutching, teeth gritting it took all of Arthur's will power not to walk over and suck the man dry. He had to remain calm. "No one owns me. Get that through your thick head you-"

"What's that? You said you wan Alfred punished?" Francis said in a teasing tone. Arthur snapped his mouth shut, quickly exiting the room to fetch dinner. Francis chuckled to himself.

He knew the other had a soft spot for the boy. If anything, the butler treated the child as if he were his own. It was too bad Francis didn't want the child to begin wit. The child was nothing of use and he refused to allow some bastard child inherit his earnings. He only took the child in to show the public his act of kindness.

Alfred was born outside of marriage and with a prostitute no less. How sad it is that he was forced to keep he child. Thank goodness Arthur came along for him to just chunk the responsibilities on him instead. Oh well.

=Note=

Sorry it just cut off like that. I'm going through a wicked case of Writer's Block and it's troubling me how rushed this chapter seems. I might go back and edit. We'll see how you guys opinions are.

Anyways, thanks for your patience for the update of this chapter. Sorry for keeping you waitng. The next chapter should be up really soon though!